A quarter of an hour later, over a thousand people had once again gathered in a circle in the courtyard.
Inside the circle, the old maester was clad in leather armor, wearing a training helmet woven from vines, and holding a dragonglass dagger. He stood face to face with a towering, muscular wight, standing 1.9 meters tall.
The wight had an iron chain bound around its neck—an exceptionally long one that dragged on the ground. Five meters away, Grenn held the other end, gripping it like he was walking a dog.
"Kill this wight, and even those who look down on your character will admire your courage—be they Night's Watch or Free Folk," Dany called out loudly.
Clink-clank—the wight dragged the long chain behind it, opening its rotting mouth wide and letting out a silent roar as it lunged at the old maester.
Gulp! Pylos' eyes widened in fear as he swallowed hard, clutching the dagger tightly and instinctively stepping back.
"It's too big! It's too tall and fierce—I can't win. Can I fight a female wildling wight instead? Or a child wight?" he cried.
"How about dueling a baby White Walker instead?" Dany sneered, then signaled Grenn with her eyes. The Night's Watchman instantly slackened the chain. Freed, the wight charged toward the old maester.
"Ahhhh—!" The old man shut his eyes, swinging the dagger wildly while screaming incoherently.
Thud! The wight struck him hard on the wrist, knocking the dagger loose. The old man howled in pain.
Then, like embracing a lover, the massive wight opened its arms and seized the old man, pulling him close. Its decaying blackened mouth snapped toward the faceplate of the vine-helmet.
Crunch, crunch! Like a child gnawing on a sweet potato, the training helmet cracked with sharp, brittle sounds.
Seeing the pale, rotting face pressed so close to his own, smelling the putrid stench from black-blood-stained teeth, the old man went stiff all over. His eyes rolled back, teeth chattering, mouth gasping helplessly, unable to form a single word.
Dany raised her hand. Grenn, the ox of a man, yanked the chain hard, pulling the wight's dripping, black-mouthed face away.
"Kill the cowardice in your heart. Be a man of the Night's Watch. Pick up the dagger and keep fighting!" she shouted to the old maester, who was now collapsed on the ground, his pants soaked with urine.
"I… I can't… I'm dying," the old maester moaned.
"Then die. It's not like you're afraid of death anyway," Dany said coldly. Then she turned to the nearby Night's Watchmen and said, "Bring him a new helmet. And wipe the filth off his face with a wet cloth."
Toad croaked with laughter, "What about his ass? He pissed himself—ha ha!"
After over an hour of struggle, with the sky growing dark, Pylos finally screamed and drove the dragonglass dagger into the wight's belly. With a sickening gush, feces, rotting guts, and soft, decomposing flesh spilled out, nearly burying the little old maester.
As the old man sobbed and vomited, crawling out from the foul-smelling heap of corpses, Donal the blacksmith finally stepped forward and draped a black sheepskin cloak over his shoulders.
Pylos had become a Night's Watch brother—honorably.
Afterward, Septon Cellador brought the old man to the simple sept of Castle Black, where, under the personal witness of High Septon Dany, the old maester recited the sacred oath:
The night gathers, and now my watch begins.It shall not end until my death.I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children.I shall wear no crowns and win no glory.I shall live and die at my post.I am the sword in the darkness.I am the watcher on the walls.I am the fire that burns against the cold,the light that brings the dawn,the horn that wakes the sleepers,the shield that guards the realms of men.I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch,for this night and all the nights to come.
After hitting rock bottom—enduring the most humiliating and lowest moment of his life—the old maester seemed to rebound, shaking off his sickly state and regaining the spirit of the spry elder he used to be. That very afternoon, he moved into the rookery below the Raven Tower and began helping Maester Aemon care for the ravens.
Oh, and with the consent of Dany, Stannis, and the Night's Watch, he sent a long letter to Oldtown in his name, detailing the situation regarding the wildlings and White Walkers.
That night, in the wooden hall of Castle Black, the Night's Watch, stag-banner knights, and wildling leaders gathered together.
At the high table sat Queen Daenerys, Stannis, Bowen Marsh, Cotter Pyke, Melisandre, and old Maester Aemon.
Below, the dining tables had been moved aside to leave an open space in the center, where Mance Rayder knelt in defeat.
This was the public trial of the King-Beyond-the-Wall.
Dany planned to leave the Wall tonight, but before that, she had to settle the wildling matter.
"Mance Rayder led the wildlings in an invasion of the Wall. He must be executed as a warning to others. Since he is my prisoner, I have the right to offer him to R'hllor, the Lord of Light," said the stag-antlered man solemnly.
"Ah!" Gasps echoed among both Night's Watch and wildlings in the hall.
Dany made no comment and instead asked the four Night's Watch representatives, "What do you think?"
"Never in history has a King-Beyond-the-Wall been pardoned, especially one who broke his vows to the Night's Watch. Any deserter of the Watch, once caught, may be summarily executed by any lord," Bowen Marsh said slowly.
"Yes, no matter what, Mance Rayder must die," Melisandre and Cotter Pyke both nodded in agreement.
"Sentencing him to death is fine, but can we hang him first—then burn him?" Maester Aemon asked with a frown.
"It's not burning—it's a sacrifice to the Lord of Light," Stannis emphasized through gritted teeth. "The offering must be alive!"
"I hold a different opinion." Daenerys's lips curled into a faint smile as she asked, "How did Mance Rayder come to wear the black cloak?"
Maester Aemon thought for a moment and replied, "About thirty years ago, Ranger Targel was patrolling the Haunted Forest when he stumbled upon a small tribe whose village had been slaughtered. Of more than a hundred people, only a four- or five-year-old wildling boy survived.
That boy was Mance Rayder. Targel brought him back to Castle Black, where he was raised by the Night's Watch. Naturally, he grew up to don the black and become a brother."
"Four or five years old..." Daenerys nodded, then turned to Mance and asked, "Why did you break your oath and betray the Night's Watch?"
"Heh, because of a piece of clothing," Mance gave a bitter laugh, his tone complicated. "I was once a loyal brother of the Night's Watch and thought I would serve till the end. Until one day, I fell in love with something called 'freedom.'
During one patrol, I was gravely wounded. My brothers feared I wouldn't make it back to the Wall, so they left me with a free folk woman—
Hey, don't get that look. There was nothing romantic. She was an old spearwife, very ugly, very old. She had no interest, and I had no desire.
While I recovered, she mended my torn cloak with a piece of red cloth. But when I returned to the Wall, the commander immediately ordered me to change into a proper black cloak.So, I left."
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"Uh, just because of that?" Everyone was stunned.
"If I couldn't even choose the clothes I liked, how could I continue living as a crow? I wanted freedom!" Mance shouted.
Maester Aemon spoke gravely: "South of the Wall, whenever nobles meet a brother of the Night's Watch on official duty, they offer food and supplies out of respect for the black cloak—even kings do. The black cloak is our shackle, but also our banner and our pride."
"I don't want this damned honor—I want freedom!" Mance declared loudly.
Daenerys rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache coming on.
"Your entire family was freely slaughtered, and you still don't understand how terrifying chaotic, uncontrolled freedom can be?"
"I realized it after our last 'verbal race war', but I still couldn't bear the constraints of the Night's Watch."
"He wasn't cut out to be a brother. He didn't join willingly, nor as punishment. He was a child—too young to fully understand—and took the oath in confusion. That's not fair."
Then, Daenerys shifted into the persona of the High Septon of the Faith of the Seven. Her expression grew solemn, her pale face seemingly glowing with sacred light:
"In The Seven-Pointed Star, Chapter 23, the Father tells Hugo: 'Any holy vow or sacred marriage not entered into voluntarily is not protected by the Seven and should be scorned by all.'"
South of Braavos lies a range of hills called Andas, the ancestral homeland of the Andals. Hugo, the King of the Hills, was their first monarch—akin to King David in the Bible.
Much of the Seven-Pointed Star is written as dialogues between Hugo and the Seven.
In the Faith, breaking sacred oaths or marriages is as serious a sin as violating guest rights. But there's a caveat: both parties must enter the oath voluntarily.
Here, "voluntarily" means without a knife to the throat—it doesn't matter what the person truly feels inside.
For example, when Sansa married Tyrion, she clearly didn't want to. But since she didn't scream or resist and silently accepted it, their marriage was protected by the Seven.
If Tywin had forced her into the marriage at swordpoint, not only would the union have been invalid, it would have been cursed by the gods—assuming the Seven truly exist.
At this point, Daenerys was somewhat stretching the argument.
"If Mance's oath doesn't count, then no sacred vow in the world matters anymore," Stannis retorted, glaring.
"I'm not saying it doesn't count. But exceptional cases need exceptional handling. He was just a child. Can't you all show a little compassion?"
A child?Mance Rayder's face twisted.
"He's no child—he's much older than you," said Ser Melisandre with a twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Daenerys was a little embarrassed, rubbed her nose, and forced a laugh:
"The Wall currently shelters hundreds of wildling youths. They're temporary brothers of the Night's Watch, allowed to leave freely after the Long Night. Mance's case is similar—just an orphan taken in by the Watch, not a true brother."
"That's a new rule you made up—it doesn't reflect the traditions of the Night's Watch," Stannis said sternly.
Daenerys leaned back in her chair and gave him a sidelong glance. "Do you all really want him dead so badly?"
"The law is the law. There's no room for favoritism!" Stannis insisted.
"You've got a screw loose!" Daenerys pointed at him bluntly and mocked, "You have no political sense at all. Keeping Mance Rayder under control would give us influence over the ten thousand scattered wildlings beyond the Wall. Isn't that better?Sure, killing him would be clean—but right after, the wildlings will elect a new leader, a new King-Beyond-the-Wall, and they'll start harassing the Wall again—or worse, ally with the White Walkers.If we keep Mance, whether he obeys us or not, as long as he holds the title of King-Beyond-the-Wall, no new leader can rise. The wildlings will remain disorganized.
Even with a hundred thousand wildlings, if they're scattered and leaderless, they're no threat to the Wall."
The Night's Watch, Baratheon knights, and wildlings all stared at the Dragon Queen—shocked and awed:The Dragon Queen makes so much sense. The Dragon Queen is terrifying!
Even the furious expression on the two Baratheons' faces began to freeze. Their gaping mouths slowly closed as they sank into serious thought.
"Ah! Kill me—just kill me already! I'm guilty! I broke my vows! I led troops to invade the Wall!" Mance suddenly howled.
(End of chapter)
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