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Chapter 155: The Night's Watch Dilemma
🕑 Added 2025-02-17 12:27:19 +0000 UTC“I know nothing of Asshai either. You will have to uncover that information on your own.” Maester Aemon could only shake his head at questions regarding Asshai. With no answers to offer, he turned his attention back to Lynd. “What else do you wish to know?”
“The Horn of Winter,” Lynd said without hesitation. “My purpose in traveling to the Land of Always Winter is to find the Horn and bring it south of The Wall. If the legends are true and the Horn of Winter has the power to bring down The Wall, then it should not be left anywhere near it. The South should be its final resting place.”
Maester Aemon was silent for a long moment before finally speaking. “Ser Lynd, your question makes me feel as though I have been transported back thousands of years. Why do you believe in the existence of the Horn of Winter?”
“Because The Wall itself exists,” Lynd replied solemnly. “Do you believe that a structure like The Wall could have been built by human hands? Not just in the barbaric era of the First Men—even today, with all the people of the Seven Kingdoms working together, it would be utterly impossible to construct something so grand. If The Wall, which humans could not have built, stands before us, then why should the Horn of Winter not exist as well?”
Maester Aemon fell silent, deep in thought, before asking, “So you also believe in those ancient legends? The stories of the White Walkers?”
“Yes,” Lynd admitted without hesitation. “People in the South believe that The Wall exists to keep the wildlings at bay, but that is only because they have never seen it. If they had, they would know that such a structure was never built to defend against men. A barrier this massive, this imposing—only something non-human would require such an extraordinary defense. The White Walkers in the old stories must be the true enemy The Wall was meant to hold back.”
“That is why Lord Willas continues sending prisoners to replenish the ranks of the Night’s Watch,” Maester Aemon said in a low voice.
Lynd nodded. “Lord Willas saw it himself—the White Walkers are gathering in the frozen north, and their leader is a woman. I suspect she must be the wife of the legendary Night King.”
“He saw it with his own eyes?” Maester Aemon asked, puzzled.
Lynd explained, “Someone took him flying beyond The Wall, into the frozen north.”
“The Greenseer?” Despite Lynd’s vague answer, Maester Aemon grasped the implication immediately. He fell into deep contemplation, his face lined with thought. After a long silence, he finally spoke. “I recall a book that mentioned the Horn of Winter.”
Saying this, he reached out, feeling for a rope at the side of his chair. Once he found it, he gave it a firm tug.
A few moments later, a Night’s Watchman knocked on the door and stepped inside. “Maester, what do you require?”
“Go to the library and fetch me a book called Ranger Rorschach’s Journal of His Travels,” Maester Aemon instructed.
The Watchman nodded and left the room.
Maester Aemon chuckled softly, shaking his head. “What an incredible day. I never thought I would find myself part of a legend.” With a smile, he reached beneath his desk, pulling out a bottle of wine and fumbling for a glass.
Lynd stepped forward, placing the wine glass on the table beside Maester Aemon’s hand and pouring him a drink.
Maester Aemon drained the glass as if it were water, then turned to Lynd. “Won’t you have a drink?”
“No, I never drink,” Lynd replied simply.
“That is a good habit,” Maester Aemon nodded approvingly. After a brief silence, he added, “Lord Lynd, while we wait for the book to be found, will you tell me what happened in Summerhall?”
Lynd met his gaze. “Are you certain you wish to hear it?”
“Do not worry,” Maester Aemon said with a faint smile. “I have lived long enough, seen and heard enough, to know that I can bear it.”
Seeing the certainty in the old maester’s expression, Lynd did not attempt to dissuade him. Instead, he recounted what had happened in the ruins of Summerhall, though he made some slight alterations. As he described the vision of Aegon V and Ser Duncan the Tall being crushed beneath the falling rubble, Maester Aemon’s expression turned sorrowful. His face, normally so composed, bore the weight of grief.
He reached for the bottle, intending to pour himself another glass, but after a brief hesitation, he set it back down with a heavy sigh.
“Aegon loved to hear tales of Queen Alysanne riding Silverwing across the Seven Kingdoms, bringing justice wherever she went,” Maester Aemon murmured. “He once said that he, too, would ride a dragon and travel the realm. He never abandoned his old ideals—not even at the end.”
At that moment, footsteps approached from outside. The Night’s Watchman who had left returned, carrying a book. Without a word, he placed it on Maester Aemon’s desk.
“Joe, you can go,” Maester Aemon said, taking the unfinished bottle of wine from the table and handing it to the Night’s Watchman. “Take this bottle and drink it. I don’t need it anymore.”
The Night’s Watchman gladly accepted the bottle and left the room, closing the door gently behind him.
Maester Aemon turned up the light on the table to its maximum, then opened the book and leaned in close to the pages, reading quickly. His eyes skimmed over one or two lines at a time, searching for what he needed before flipping to the next page.
After turning through several dozen pages, his pace slowed. He began reading more carefully, and after going through a few pages, he flipped back and reread certain lines. A smile spread across his face. “I remember, I remember,” he murmured.
“Have you found it already?” Lynd asked.
“Yes,” Maester Aemon replied, turning the book upside down on the table and pointing to the open page for Lynd to see.
For the past two years, Lynd had been studying languages and writing. He had discovered an exceptional ability to learn languages—far beyond what he had ever been capable of before. Because of this, he dedicated himself to learning various dialects of the Common Tongue, as well as Dothraki, High Valyrian, Low Valyrian, and any other language he thought might be useful in the future, all under Malora’s guidance.
Malora, in turn, enjoyed teaching Lynd languages, fascinated by how quickly he picked them up. He typically mastered reading, writing, and speaking a new language in just a month or two. Eager to test his limits, she continued challenging him with new linguistic variations.
At present, the book’s author used a variant of the Common Tongue commonly found in the North, which included unique prepositions interspersed throughout each sentence. To those unfamiliar with the dialect, the text would be difficult to decipher, but for someone well-versed in it, these specific prepositions made it easier to pinpoint key points, thereby speeding up comprehension.
The entire page boiled down to two crucial details. First, a Ranger named Rorschach and his companions had discovered the true tomb of Joramun, the King-Beyond-the-Wall from the Age of Myth, and had retrieved the Horn of Winter from within.
Second, when they returned to the Wall, they were ambushed by White Walkers. They fought their way back and eventually set up an ambush at the Fist of the First Men, where they managed to kill their pursuers.
But in the end, they all perished. Before his death, Rorschach buried his fallen comrades at the "index finger" corner of the Fist of the First Men—and sealed the Horn of Winter alongside them.
Lynd’s expression grew puzzled as he finished reading.
In terms of content, the account seemed plausible. It mentioned the Fist of the First Men, aligning with his own knowledge, and even specified the exact burial location, saving him the trouble of searching aimlessly.
But the problem was that this page—or perhaps the entire book—was riddled with contradictions.
Maester Aemon seemed to notice Lynd’s confusion and asked, “Is there something you don’t understand? Do you need me to explain it?”
“Maester, who wrote this book?” Lynd asked.
Maester Aemon explained, “Can’t you make out the title? The original author was the Ranger Rorschach, and a later Maester rewrote it based on Rorschach’s diary.”
Lynd frowned. “The text states that all the Rangers died at the Fist of the First Men—including Rorschach himself. If that’s true, then how could he have buried his comrades there and still managed to leave this book behind?”
Maester Aemon hesitated for a moment. “It could have been a mistake made by someone who recorded the account later. In reality, Rorschach didn’t die in battle.”
“That only makes it more questionable,” Lynd countered, shaking his head. “If Rorschach survived, why would he bury the Horn of Winter at the Fist of the First Men instead of bringing it back?”
Maester Aemon was at a loss for words. When he had read the book before, he hadn’t scrutinized it so closely. But now, hearing Lynd’s reasoning, he realized there were indeed contradictions. Carefully recalling the book’s entire contents, he found that while the first half seemed sound, the latter half—starting from the events at the Fist of the First Men—grew increasingly muddled.
He had previously assumed the inconsistencies stemmed from errors made by later scribes, but now he began to suspect that the problems had been present from the very beginning.
"Maester Aemon, is there an original copy of this book?" Lynd asked again.
Maester Aemon thought for a moment before replying, "There might be, but you'll have to look in the library."
Lynd chuckled. "That's good. I'll be here for seven days, so I can use that time to read. The Night's Watch must have many ancient books that can't be found anywhere else!"
"You won't be disappointed," Maester Aemon assured him with a nod. He then rang a bell, summoning his attendant and instructing him to guide Lynd to the library.
For the next several days, Lynd spent most of his time in the library, browsing through the vast collection of books gathered by the Night's Watch over the years. Old Bear eventually decided to move Lynd’s quarters into the library itself, making it easier for him to continue his research.
The Night's Watch library primarily consisted of the personal journals of past members—records that proved invaluable to Lynd, who was preparing to journey to the Land of Always Winter.
The furthest documented expedition into the Land of Always Winter reached Thenn, the northernmost point of the Frostfangs Mountains, near the source of the Milkwater River. This region encompassed nearly all the land beyond the Wall that had been explored.
However, most of these journals were filled with mundane personal details of their authors, with little truly useful information. Because of this, Lynd read through them quickly, finishing all the diaries in just two days. In terms of written knowledge about the lands beyond the Wall, he might now rival even the most experienced rangers.
After completing the diaries, he turned his attention to much older books, including a volume of runes written by the First Men in an ancient language. This particular book was unlike anything else he had encountered—it was not made of parchment or leather but crafted from a metal similar to bronze, its surface engraved with intricate runes. Despite being thousands of years old, the book gleamed as if brand new.
Lynd even began to suspect that it might possess some form of magic. However, neither he nor Glory could detect any magical properties within it.
Realizing its rarity and the lack of anyone actively studying the ancient language of the First Men at the Wall, Lynd asked the Old Bear if he was willing to sell it so he could take it back to Malora for research.
Initially, the Old Bear was reluctant to part with such a valuable artifact. But when Lynd named his price, he hesitated. The Night’s Watch was in desperate need of funds.
In earlier times, when their numbers were fewer, the Watch had been able to sustain itself on the resources from the Gift. However, with the influx of criminals and outcasts being sent to the Wall, their financial situation had become dire. The previous Lord Commander had even borrowed money from the Starks just to cover daily expenses, but such a solution was unsustainable.
Now, with an additional seven hundred recruits joining the Night’s Watch, the costs had skyrocketed yet again. The treasury was critically low, and an urgent infusion of funds was needed to prevent further crisis.
Lynd’s offer was simply too generous to refuse.
Yet, despite seeing the dire state of the Night's Watch's finances, Lynd had no clear solution.
The Watch did possess valuable resources—rare items and high-quality timber unavailable in the South—but the logistical challenge was immense. The Wall was simply too far from Lynd’s own territory.
Setting up a trade route with the Wall and transporting its goods south could generate profit, but the time required for his fleet to make a single trip to the North was equivalent to completing three or four journeys across the Narrow Sea, where trade was far more lucrative. The return on investment simply didn’t justify the effort, leaving him feeling helpless about the Watch’s financial predicament.
As for stopping Willas from sending more prisoners to the Wall, that was an impossibility. Even if Willas agreed, the Night’s Watch itself would resist. With their increased manpower, they had finally reached a point where they were not constantly stretched to their limits. The boost in numbers had reduced the dangers of patrolling beyond the Wall, and they had no desire to return to the days of constant fear and vulnerability.
In fact, they hoped for even more recruits, not fewer.
Meanwhile, the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms would never allow the Night’s Watch to refuse prisoners. Regardless of tradition, the Wall was simply the most convenient way to rid themselves of problematic individuals who couldn't be executed but also couldn't be allowed to roam free. That alone ensured that the flow of convicts to the Wall would continue indefinitely.
As a result, the Watch's financial crisis had reached a dead end. If a solution wasn't found soon, internal unrest could erupt among the ranks.
The Old Bear was fully aware of this, yet there was little he could do.
Lynd, however, had proposed one idea—expansion. If they couldn't move south, why not move north? He suggested constructing a new castle in the Haunted Forest, the closest region beyond the Wall. Establishing a permanent outpost there would allow the Night's Watch to claim and exploit its vast natural resources, ensuring a steady supply of timber and other valuable materials for years to come.
Old Bear did not respond to Lynd’s proposal, making it clear that he wasn’t taking the idea seriously. Perhaps, when desperation finally set in, he would remember Lynd’s suggestion.
