A month ago, Aegor had proposed transferring Samwell Tarly to Queenscrown to raise messenger ravens, but training the birds to fly between multiple locations was not something that could be accomplished overnight. Now, the shortcomings of lacking an efficient communication system were becoming painfully obvious: if they needed information, they had to rely on messengers traveling on foot or horseback. Fearing the message might be misunderstood, he simply went himself.
…
"The Lord of Winterfell has called on the Northern lords to set aside a quarter of their harvest and sell the rest to the Wall at fair prices in support. The response from the families was generally cooperative. Aside from the Dreadfort and Hornwood, which were slow to respond due to not having appointed agents, most agreed to the arrangement. However, due to the distance, only the Umbers of Last Hearth have delivered the first shipment of grain and fodder. As for the other regions…" Yam explained, "I found out that the main grain-producing areas in the North are the plains east of the Barrowlands and the fertile lands to the north and south of the Bay of Seals. These areas lie in the southern and western parts of the North. If the Ironborn continue to invade, these areas will come under threat and won't be able to defend themselves, much less send grain north."
"Damn Ironborn…" Judging by the timing, Euron would soon return to assassinate Balon and claim the throne. For the first time in his life, Aegor hoped a villain would appear earlier—at least that madman would head south to plunder the rich Westerlands and the Riverlands, rather than foolishly throwing himself against the tough, impoverished North. "How much grain did House Umber send?"
Yam pulled out the records and calculated. "Enough to feed a thousand people for one month."
"There will likely be follow-up shipments, but as the Ironborn spread east and approach the Kingsroad, we'll soon have to send troops to escort the grain caravans."
Send troops to escort caravans? There were over 7,000 people now spread across ten castles along the Wall. The clansmen were brave and ready to fight, with both men and women serving as soldiers, but there were only about a thousand Night's Watch brothers... At best, only 3,000 could be considered combat-ready. That was barely enough to hold a hundred-league defensive line against tens of thousands of wildlings trying to break south. It was already somewhat inadequate for clearing out the raiders inside the Gift. How could they spare men to guard supply lines?
The most obvious option was to recruit more clans from the mountains to make up the numbers. But those new arrivals would need to be fed. More mouths meant more grain. More grain meant sourcing from more places, which would require more escorts.
A vicious cycle. Once you fall into it, there's no way out. A terrible idea.
"Can we bring in food by sea? Buy from the Riverlands and send it to Eastwatch by ship?"
...
...
"In theory, yes, but the Riverlands are blocked by the Ironborn on the western coast, and the eastern coast has no usable ports. Only White Harbor has functioning ships. But White Harbor…" Yam hesitated.
Aegor looked at White Harbor on the map. A few dozen miles to the west lay the Gulf of Calimar, which had already been taken by the Ironborn. For grain to be shipped from the Riverlands to White Harbor, it would have to pass through the Neck, which was now blocked. Moreover, to prevent wildling attacks, White Harbor might have already placed restrictions on its port.
He was in serious trouble. "The only remaining option is to request help from the king. Transport the grain from the Riverlands to King's Landing, load it onto ships at Blackwater Bay, and sail it north to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea."
"But that involves too many parties and layers of authority. We don't have the power to compel cooperation between nobles from two regions." Yam frowned. "Besides, the Riverlands have been supplying King's Landing continuously. Now that war has broken out between the Reach and the Iron Throne, food prices in the capital have skyrocketed. With the Riverlands already struggling to meet demand, who would dare suggest diverting grain to the Night's Watch instead—at a loss, no less—and let the capital starve?"
It was a grave problem. What now? This was the risk of running a region that couldn't support itself—you had to tiptoe carefully around every issue. And Aegor had stepped right into a pit. He had been cautious from the beginning, only pulling a few thousand clansmen from the mountains and preserving funds for the Night Watch's industry, but even feeding that number had become unexpectedly difficult.
…
Aegor stared at the map, trying to find a solution. The Riverlands weren't the only grain-producing region. Should he go to the Reach and ask the Tyrells? But they likely wanted trouble in the North, to weaken Stannis by cutting off one of his strongest allies. He could already imagine the reaction of the lords of the Reach—they'd pretend the raven never arrived. If he visited in person, Margaery, an old acquaintance, would surely receive him warmly and offer him every courtesy. But when it came to real business, there would be one excuse after another—too many obstacles, too little time—and they'd offer no real help.
Just as he was mulling this over, a guard knocked on the door and came to report. "My lords, a large group has arrived from the Kingsroad, claiming to be reinforcements sent by King Stannis to support the Night's Watch... There are too many of them. I didn't dare let them in without your permission."
"King Stannis sent reinforcements?" Aegor looked at the guard in confusion. This should be good news, but he was worried about having more mouths to feed. "Did they bring food?"
"It seems... not," the guard replied with a blink. "They brought two wagons, but they're full of people. Doesn't look like they're carrying supplies."
More mouths to feed. But with enough debts, you stop worrying about the new ones. Aegor figured that since they were sent by Stannis, at least they could be made to understand the food shortage and perhaps relay the issue back to the king directly.
"Let's go out and meet them."
Aegor and several aides left the administrative hall of Queenscrown and walked to the gate. There, they saw the group that had been stopped outside.
From a distance, Aegor caught sight of a fiery silhouette among the crowd and was instantly taken aback. That red witch again!
"Well, Lord Logistician, we meet again." Melisandre couldn't possibly guess what was going through Aegor's mind. She smiled and said, "This little town you've built is quite impressive. But your gatekeepers are far too rude… Why not invite us in?"
"Ah, of course. Please, come in." Aegor didn't dare offend the Red Priestess. He quickly gestured for the gates to be opened and let the party enter. But before he could turn around, a small figure burst from Melisandre's side and threw herself into his arms.
"Master—!"
"Arya!" Aegor was stunned. He hadn't seen her in over a month, and her hair hadn't fully grown back. She wore a plain gray cloak, and standing quietly behind the red-robed woman, he hadn't noticed her at all. "How did you end up with..." He stopped himself from saying "with the witch," and rephrased. "How did you get here? Does your family know?"
"I'm afraid not," Melisandre said with a smile as her group entered Queenscrown beneath the banner of the burning heart. "She ran away from home. She caught up with us two days ago, so I brought her along to find you."
Ran away from home? This little rascal again...
Winterfell was hundreds of miles from Queenscrown. Along the way were Free Folk and the threat of Ironborn. If it hadn't been for her companions, she would have walked one of the most dangerous roads in the Seven Kingdoms... Aegor really wanted to pry open Arya's head and see what was going on inside.
He looked at her sternly. "Well? Explain."
Arya sniffled and buried her head in his chest, shaking her head and refusing to answer.
"Fine. We'll talk about it later." Aegor wanted to scold her, but seeing her cry, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He turned his attention to the other matter. Melisandre still wore the same loose red robe as when they first met, with no outer cloak for warmth—and likely nothing beneath either. She looked as if she might freeze, yet standing near her, he could clearly feel warmth.
"Lady Melisandre, thank you for coming all this way to support the Night's Watch. Please allow me to welcome you on behalf of the Watch."
"There is no need for thanks, Lord Aegor," Melisandre said calmly. "The Long Night is coming. The ancient god of darkness, the Lord of Light's eternal foe—he who cannot be named—has set his sights on all living things. Everyone must contribute their strength to this battle."
"Well said, my lady. But we are in the midst of great hardship." Aegor sighed, but decided not to start complaining right away. "You've come a long way. Let us prepare a room and a hot meal for you first. We'll speak again over supper."
Melisandre nodded in agreement and followed Aegor into the town. He gestured for Yam to handle accommodations for the others, then brought Arya into his office, where the two sat face-to-face.
"There's no one else here now. Speak up. Why did you come all this way? Don't tell me you've got a stomachache again and want me to rub it for you?"
(To be continued.)
***
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