Are those cunning creatures also capable of scheming?
Daenerys raised her delicate brows slightly, feeling that Aegor was being overly suspicious.
However, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch was leading his own army in his own war. She had only just become his liege two days ago and had not yet fulfilled her side of the agreement. It did seem somewhat improper to immediately seize the credit for destroying the White Walkers by relying solely on her dragons.
With this in mind, she shrugged and offered no objection. "What made you suspect something was wrong?"
"Not what I saw, but what I calculated." Aegor pointed at the map spread out before them, his finger tracing the line connecting the western section of the Wall to Crown Town, the capital of the Gift. "Since we're marching with the army, we have a clear understanding of our pace. So, our pursuit speed is known. Likewise, we can estimate the average marching speed of the wight army based on their movement from Stone Door Fortress to Crown Town in a day. Considering they began marching more than ten hours ahead of us and can march day and night without rest, this is..."
It was a typical pursuit problem, the sort even a primary school student could solve. But this world had neither schools nor such terminology. Lacking a better word, Aegor finally settled on, "This is a basic arithmetic problem."
Under Daenerys's questioning gaze, he pulled out a blank piece of parchment and quickly scribbled down his calculations, explaining as he went. "Unfortunately, whether I estimate by feel, mental math, or paper, substituting either the upper or lower limits of the wight army's speed, the final result is always the same. We shouldn't have caught up before reaching Long Lake."
"But we have caught up."
The Queen enjoyed watching men draw on maps and scratch calculations on parchment, but she was even more curious about how Aegor would explain the contradiction between his logic and reality.
"Exactly. Either I miscalculated, or something else has gone wrong, causing the results to deviate from expectations." Aegor sighed and handed the parchment to a few literate guards nearby. "Take a look and see if I made any mistakes... but I doubt it. This model is too simple to get wrong. So, if it's not a miscalculation, then there are a few possibilities. Either Last Hearth put up more resistance than expected, and the White Walkers wasted over ten hours attacking it, which is unlikely... or the more concerning reason—their pace has dropped below even my most conservative estimates."
"That sounds like good news. Why stop the march?"
"Because moving that slowly falls into one of two scenarios: either they are truly slowed by exhaustion or terrain, or they are deliberately moving slowly, maybe even waiting for us to catch up. Based on what we currently know, we can't determine which it is." Aegor's voice deepened as he narrowed his eyes. "It's already dark, and the men haven't finished their meals. If we push forward now, we may be forced to fight a hard battle in the dark on empty stomachs. Rather than gamble, it's wiser to hold our impatience, camp here, and wait one night. By tomorrow, we'll know for sure."
He took back the parchment from the guards, who shook their heads to confirm his math, and gave his conclusion. "If they really are slower than the lowest estimate, we'll set out at first light and inevitably catch them before noon. But if we still only reach them near sunset tomorrow, then it confirms my suspicion—they're deliberately keeping a fixed distance, trying to lure Your Grace to fly ahead on dragonback and walk into a trap."
"Lord Aegor is certainly thoughtful and cautious. This is a strategic probe, a way to confirm the enemy's intentions." Moqorro, who had caught up from Nightfort, smiled as he turned to Daenerys. "Your Grace, if it turns out the Commander is overly cautious, the cost is merely a single day's delay. But if he's right, and the enemy has set a trap, then any rash action would endanger both you and your dragons. A queen must not take such risks."
Daenerys listened carefully to Aegor and Moqorro, understanding their meaning, and nodded in agreement. At that moment, a scout still standing nearby, awaiting orders, could not help but ask, "Then... my lord, what should we do about Last Hearth?"
"No need to deal with it," Bran Stark, silent until now in his wheelchair, opened his eyes. He had completed a short-range reconnaissance through the eyes of his ravens. "The corpses inside and outside the Umber stronghold are real. The White Walkers likely didn't have enough magic to reanimate them, which is why they left them behind. Send word to Crown Town and have the garrison dispatch logistics crews to handle cleanup. No special attention is required."
"They don't have enough magic to raise wights?" Aegor's brow twitched. He nearly asked if that meant they couldn't raise wight dragons either, but held his tongue and swallowed the words before they escaped.
"Waiting another night is fine," Daenerys said, "but there's still a problem. If we catch them tomorrow, that's ideal. But if it turns out they are deliberately slowing down to lure me, then what? We can't have the dragons follow the army all the way south."
"They're not fleeing North beyond the Wall, but heading deeper into the North. As long as we keep close enough, someone can always hinder their pace and force them to slow down." As it happened, an army was already heading north that could serve this purpose. Aegor had initially worried that the White Walkers would keep adding to their ranks, forming another massive horde like before, but with their magic shortage, even that concern was fading. He felt completely at ease now. "Bran, where is your brother's army? Can you use ravens to determine their position and try to contact them, so the two forces can coordinate and ideally encircle the White Walkers from north and south?"
---
Robb Stark had issued a general call to arms throughout the North as soon as he received the alarm from the Wall.
Knowing the fighting was in the Gift and that Winterfell lay at the North's center, he chose a village along the King's Road west of Last Hearth as the assembly point, so lords from farther north wouldn't lose time reaching Winterfell first. It was mid-winter, and most smallfolk had gathered in Winter Town. The North had also maintained high vigilance due to its long war with the Ironborn, so the bannermen responded quickly. Winterfell's forces set out the same day the alarm was received, just as the wights were marching from Stone Door Fortress to Crown Town.
They moved swiftly but in good order. Along the way, they met with forces from Houses Cerwyn, Glover, and Bolton, who shared the same route. Their combined strength exceeded six thousand men. After several days of marching, they had reached the area near Long Lake, just two days' march from Last Hearth.
But that morning, after spending the night camped along the King's Road west of the lake and preparing to continue marching to the designated rendezvous point, the Warden of the North encountered something unusual.
A raven descended from the sky and landed directly on his shoulder as he was eating breakfast. He reached out to catch it, and it did not flee. Attached to its leg was a small scroll. The letter contained urgent intelligence: Last Hearth had fallen, the White Walkers were leading a large army south, and the Northern host was to halt its advance, establish a fortified position, and prepare to intercept the enemy.
Trained messenger ravens capable of flying between rookeries were not rare. But no matter how well trained, they could not find a moving army, let alone deliver a letter so precisely into the hands of the commanding general. After reading the message, Robb immediately halted the army's preparations and shared the content of the letter with the nobles at breakfast.
"How did this raven find Your Lordship so accurately?" The gathered nobles looked at the large black bird, which had now returned to perch on Robb's shoulder, with suspicion. Lord Cerwyn spoke first. "I've never heard of ravens seeking out people. Could this be some enchantment sent by the enemy to confuse us, stalling our march so we arrive too late to assist the Wall?"
The raven gave a loud caw, almost as if protesting the accusation.
"The Night's Watch has taken in Wildlings from Beyond the Wall. Some of them do have the ability to control animals, especially birds," said Lord Glover. "Who signed the letter? Is there a seal?"
"The signature is my brother Bran. The seal is that of the Night's Watch. It does not appear to be forged." Robb frowned. Truthfully, he no longer remembered what Bran's handwriting looked like. "Perhaps he learned some magical way to send ravens during his time beyond the Wall. What do you lords think? How should we respond?"
"If the message is true, then what in the seven hells is the Night's Watch doing?" another noble snapped. "Didn't they say the White Walkers had crossed the Gorge into the Gift? How far is Last Hearth from the Gorge? How did it fall in under four days? Aegor West boasted endlessly about his skill, but the battle begins and he can't even hold the line for a few days?"
The various lords and their retainers all began shouting over each other, arguing furiously and interrupting what had started as a peaceful breakfast.
"Quiet, all of you!" Roose Bolton coughed and said coldly, "The White Walkers command the dead. It's foolish to judge their march by the standards of living armies. If they truly march day and night at the pace we're traveling, it's entirely possible they could reach Winterfell in three or four days. Regardless, the Night's Watch did issue the alarm immediately, and they are pursuing the enemy closely. They haven't been completely useless. That's more than can be said of 'Sleeping Jack' ninety years ago, who didn't even realize the enemy had crossed the border." The Lord of the Dreadfort didn't raise his voice, but it carried with icy clarity. "What we must now determine is whether this letter is truly from the Night's Watch, or, as Lord Cerwyn said, sorcery from the White Walkers."
His words shifted the debate and ignited a fresh round of arguments.
"First, lock up the raven and don't let it fly off! Poke it with dragonglass. If it's a spell from the White Walkers, it'll die instantly."
"That's absurd. What bird wouldn't die if you stabbed it with dragonglass?" one of the calmer lords countered. "What if the letter is genuine? When has the Northern Army ever had to take orders from the Night's Watch? We have dragonglass weapons, we brought pitch and oil. What are we afraid of? If we delay here, we let the enemy go deeper into the North."
"Rubbish. We all know what wights are like. Yes, letting them invade is incompetence, but marching six thousand men into them head-on and dying pointlessly is bravery? If the letter is true, then building defenses here and waiting for the Hornwood and Tallhart armies to arrive and combine our forces with the Night's Watch is the only way to survive. It's not about taking orders. It's the only viable path forward. Even if we hadn't received the letter, we would have no choice but to do the same."
...
Though the arguments were heated, they gave Robb a chance to hear every angle and refine his plan. Soon, the young Warden of the North had made up his mind.
"Enough!" Robb Stark raised a hand to silence the debate and gave his orders. "We set camp here. Each house will assign men and tools to cut wood from the forest and build temporary fortifications. Prepare for battle. In addition, select our best riders and provide them with fresh horses. Send them north to scout the enemy's position. Whether they encounter the White Walkers or reach Last Hearth, they are to return immediately and report what they see."
(To be continued.)
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