ASOIAF/GOT: The King On The Wall

"So, you brought back two broken swords to prove that you and Gary weren't deserters, but heroes who killed White Walkers?" Commander Mormont stared at Aegor with a grave expression, scrutinizing him as though searching for signs of deceit.

Aegor took a deep breath and replied calmly, "I wouldn't dare call myself a hero. The truth is, I fled the battlefield ten days ago. I failed to save Ser Waymar Royce, and I didn't bring back his body. But I thought it was more important to return to the Wall with the warning about their existence than to die fighting the White Walkers in vain."

"Obsidian can indeed kill White Walkers. That much is recorded in many old legends," said Maester Aemon, his blind eyes turned toward the obsidian dagger Aegor had handed over. Despite his lack of sight, he ran his fingers along its crude edges, clearly intrigued. "If I recall correctly, you're not from Westeros. You've only recently begun learning the Common Tongue. How is it that you know these legends so well?"

"There are similar tales in my homeland," Aegor said. "Back then, I thought they were just myths. But when I came here. when I saw the Wall with my own eyes. I started to understand."

The wight horses ridden by the White Walkers still had bags of oats tied to their saddles. After killing the Walkers, Aegor had found his own terrified horse a few hundred meters away. Feeding it the oats, he rested briefly before placing the gravely injured Gary on its back and leading it southward to the Wall.

Now, Aegor sat in a warm meeting room by the fire, facing the leaders of the Night's Watch for the first time. Over the year since being conscripted into their ranks, he'd tried everything to draw the attention of these high-ranking men. Finally, he had succeeded, but as a suspected deserter.

"Maester Aemon, you're a learned man," Aegor said, his tone steady but firm. "You should know this: when legends from entirely different places tell of the same event, it often means the story is based on truth. White Walkers are real, and they've returned."

The old man nodded slightly. Though he couldn't confirm what had happened north of the Wall, at least the latter part of Aegor's statement made sense.

"Hmph." Alliser Thorne's cold sneer broke the silence. "To me, it sounds like he wounded himself to avoid punishment, found a way to break those swords, and cooked up a convenient tale to make it look like he'd fought a great battle. This one was lazy during training, always cutting corners. And now we're supposed to believe he killed a White Walker? If such creatures even exist."

Aegor didn't respond immediately. He knew Thorne wasn't singling him out unfairly. Back in his former life, Aegor had also worked as a material testing engineer—a desk job. While he wasn't completely helpless, his pampered life had made him softer than even some of the noble-born recruits, let alone the low-born men conscripted into the Night's Watch. When he first arrived at the Wall, the rigorous training had been a brutal adjustment, and his occasional slacking had left a poor impression on Thorne.

That said, Thorne's own bitterness ran deep. A Targaryen loyalist forced to take the black after the dynasty fell, he was a cynical, humorless man who delighted in berating others. Few in the Night's Watch could tolerate his condescending tone. Even if Aegor had thrown himself into the training with full effort, it was unlikely Thorne would ever think well of him.

"Ser Alliser," Aegor said after a moment, keeping his voice level. "Have you seen many broken swords in your time?"

"More fine swords than you'll ever lay eyes on," Thorne replied curtly.

"Then take a look at the broken ends of the swords I brought back," Aegor said, his tone sharpening slightly. Thorne might be his superior, but Aegor was now a Ranger, and his fate wouldn't be decided by the man's disdain alone. "Night's Watch swords are forged from steel. Steel is strong and flexible, not brittle, like glass or ice. No matter how much force is applied or how quickly a blade is broken, the fractured ends will always deform. But that isn't the case with these swords."

He gestured toward the fragments he'd laid before them. "I brought back every piece on purpose. If you reassemble them, you'll see the edges fit perfectly, almost seamlessly. Except for a few minor gaps, it's like the blades were never broken at all."

Commander Mormont frowned and leaned forward, piecing the fragments together as Aegor instructed. Sure enough, aside from a few tiny chips along the edges, the swords looked whole again—straight, sharp, and nearly flawless.

"How could this happen?" the Commander murmured, clearly unsettled.

Aegor hesitated. He understood the science behind the phenomenon: low temperatures weaken the bonds between metal atoms, increasing brittleness. But there was no way to explain such concepts to these men, none of whom had ever studied physics. And in this world, full of magic and mysteries beyond reason, who could say what rules truly applied?

"Legends say White Walkers use ice magic," Aegor explained, choosing his words carefully. "Maybe their sorcery froze the steel, causing it to crack. I don't know the exact reason. But I swear, no matter who you ask or what tests you run, you won't find a way to replicate this. Lord Commander, take these swords to the blacksmiths of Castle Black. If any of them can break a steel blade in the same way, then you're free to call me a liar and a deserter."

---

Donal Noye, the one-armed blacksmith of Castle Black, a man with a storied past. Once a private blacksmith and soldier in service to House Baratheon, he had joined the Night's Watch after losing an arm during the Siege of Storm's End. Before that, he had followed Stannis Baratheon across the Seven Kingdoms, eaten the finest food, bedded women from all corners of Westeros, and fought in countless battles. It was said that the warhammer Robert Baratheon used to kill Rhaegar Targaryen on the Trident was forged by his hands. In the original story, Donal Noye would later sacrifice his life in the tunnels under the Wall, battling the giant king Mag the Mighty during the wildling assault on Castle Black. Truly, he was a legendary figure.

Compared to a man like that, Aegor had little to his name. Other than the fact that he had just killed a White Walker, there was nothing worth praising about his past. However, before he found himself in this world, he had worked as a material testing engineer. Right next to his office had been an array of metal performance testing machines, including impact testers. When it came to forging iron, he couldn't hold a candle to Donal Noye. But in terms of theoretical knowledge about metal properties, no blacksmith in this world, no matter how skilled, could rival him.

To make a steel sword brittle enough to break like those he brought back, the temperature would have to drop to at least -200 degrees Celsius. Even in the modern world Aegor had left behind, achieving such conditions required highly specialized and expensive equipment. Medieval blacksmiths could easily reach temperatures of 200 or even 2,000 degrees but below zero? That was beyond their capabilities. It would be easier to capture a White Walker and force it to demonstrate its ice magic firsthand.

Aegor's calm expression and confident tone had a visible effect on the Night's Watch officers seated behind the long table. These men, most of whom came from noble backgrounds, seemed to sense that Aegor was no ordinary soldier from some forgotten corner of the realm. He carried himself with an air of knowledge and conviction, one that even the so-called "nobility" could not shake.

"I've sent someone to examine Gary's wound," Maester Aemon finally broke the silence. "It's strange. The wound was made by a sharp weapon, but it shows clear signs of severe frostbite. Yet the frostbite is contained to a very small area, both inside and around the wound itself. It took several men half a day to remove all the necrotic tissue. I don't know if Donal could break a steel sword in the way you described, but I know that I could not create a wound like this."

Among the senior officers present, Maester Aemon was the first to openly express his belief in Aegor's account. Aegor remained composed, though relief swept over him. No matter the time or place, it was always easier to reason with learned and insightful individuals. His life, it seemed, had a chance of being spared.

Commander Mormont turned his attention to the chief ranger seated silently beside him. "Benjen, this man is under your command. What do you think?"

Benjen Stark, the leader of the rangers and the only Stark in the Night's Watch, raised his head. Thin but sharp-eyed, he had been quietly studying the evidence Aegor had brought back. Now, called upon by the Lord Commander, it was time for him to speak.

"We are the Night's Watch," Benjen began, his voice steady. "We guard the northernmost reaches of the kingdom. Yet when it comes to the vast unknown lands beyond the Wall, we know little more than the southerners do." His expression darkened slightly. "I've never seen a White Walker myself, but I would not dare claim that they don't exist. Seeing is believing. In a few days, I will personally lead an elite patrol north to investigate the claims made by Ser Aegor. But for now..."

Aegor held his breath as Benjen paused, awaiting his judgment.

"The most pressing matter at hand is to inform Waymar Royce's family of his disappearance and provide them with an explanation," Benjen continued. "As for Aegor, he will be placed in solitary confinement for the time being. When I patrol north, he will lead the way. Whether or not his words are true, he will have the chance to prove them with his actions."

As expected, Gary had been right, Aegor would end up leading the way.

Two brothers escorted him out of the meeting room, his mind already racing with thoughts of what lay ahead. Just before the door closed behind him, he caught the tail end of a conversation between Maester Aemon and Benjen Stark.

"Before you lead a patrol north, there is something else that requires your attention," Aemon said. "The raven brought word—Jon Arryn is dead, and the king is on his way north. Lord Eddard has requested that you return to Winterfell to meet him."