LIGHTNOVELWORLD Chapter 54: Chapter 54
Perhaps it was the trace of murderous intent in Aegor's eyes, or perhaps it was guilt gnawing at her conscience, but the casual expression on Melisandre's face faded. She stared at him for a moment in silence before the corners of her lips curved into a faint smile. "Alright."
The Night's Watch had always been the backbone of the fight against the enemies of the Lord of Light. Aegor was the first man in black she had encountered since coming to Westeros. Despite her disdain for mortals, Melisandre decided it was unwise to risk offending a potential ally so quickly.
The red-robed woman turned and gestured toward two chairs in the corner of the room, inviting Aegor to sit. "Ask me anything. As long as my Lord does not forbid me from answering, I'll tell you everything I know."
Unceremoniously, Aegor strode to a chair and sat down. "You said I carry the aura of an alien god. What does that mean?"
"To be precise," Melisandre replied, "you have two auras. One is dark and evil, but very faint. The other is far stronger, though it carries no malice. Either way, you're fortunate to be alive."
"Why do I have these two auras?" Aegor pressed, his skepticism clear. Materialist by nature, he struggled to believe in talk of gods and divine powers. Yet in this world where the woman in front of him had just demonstrated abilities beyond his comprehension he knew better than to dismiss her words outright. "I'm just an ordinary soldier of the Night's Watch."
"No, you are not." Melisandre's red eyes glimmered. "I saw you in the flames, fighting a servant of the Great Other—the God of Cold. You were brave, but bravery alone does not explain your survival. Few mortals can slay such creatures, yet you killed a White Walker. The moment you did, you ceased to be ordinary. That act marked you, drawing the attention of the God of Cold."
Melisandre waved her hand, dismissing the guards and instructing them to close the door behind them. "The evil aura clinging to you is a remnant of that battle. In the future, should you enter the God of Cold's perception, you will be noticed far more quickly than your comrades."
Aegor's heart sank. It wasn't just her ability to glean his past from a few drops of blood that unsettled him, but the implications of her words. He had been marked by this so-called God of Cold. But what was the God of Cold? Was it just another name for the Night King? And how had Melisandre known about his encounter with the White Walker? Did she truly see it in the flames, or had Stannis learned of it through Jeor Mormont or Eddard Stark's letters and told her?
…
"What about the other, 'stronger' aura?" Aegor asked, masking his unease. "Yes, I killed a White Walker. It's the toughest enemy I've ever faced, and I only won because it underestimated me. If even that fight left me with a faint trace of evil, then what kind of fight would leave behind the powerful aura you sensed?"
"That's the mystery," Melisandre admitted, her gaze narrowing. "The existence that left the other aura is far weaker than the God of Cold, yet the mark it left on you is exceptionally vivid. Such a thing should only happen if you had direct contact with it, if you confronted it face to face. But for a mortal to survive such an encounter is… impossible. Stranger still, in the flames, I saw a boy falling from a great height. If you want me to explain further, you'll need to tell me: what happened?"
"You saw it all, didn't you?" Aegor retorted. "Why do you need me to explain?"
"Fire divination isn't as all-seeing as you might imagine," Melisandre replied. Once Aegor sat down, she took the seat across from him. "What I saw wasn't a complete picture. Your blood carried traces of the two forces I spoke of, and they revealed fragmented scenes. The evil aura was faint, so it only showed me flashes of your battle with the servant of the God of Cold—the White Walker. I saw you nearly perish as you plunged the dragonglass dagger into its chest. That was all.
"The stronger aura, however, allowed me to see more. I saw you running on a rooftop, speaking with a boy, and then… he fell. I couldn't hear what you said to him, nor could I decipher what relationship it had to a god. That's why I need your account. What were you doing that day?"
"I was trying to stop it…" Aegor replied, frowning. Then, as if struck by lightning, a single thought surged to the forefront of his mind: Greenseer!
…
The memory of that moment filled Aegor with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. He had failed to stop Bran from falling, and his interference had been clumsy and ill-planned. But now, after hearing Melisandre's words, he began to wonder if his failure had less to do with his own actions and more to do with forces beyond his control.
Could it be that the outcome had been inevitable? That his actions were meaningless against a powerful entity pulling the strings?
It was like the stock market, no matter how clever or precise a retail trader's moves were, they couldn't outplay the big players. And even those market makers, no matter how wealthy, wouldn't dare to challenge the system itself. The two sides operated on entirely different levels, and there was no doubt as to who would prevail.
Bran's fall wasn't an accident. It had been orchestrated, perhaps by the Greenseer himself.
The more Aegor thought about it, the more everything clicked into place. The Greenseer's influence might explain why Bran was so determined to climb the tower that day, why the Lannister twins seemed compelled to enter the First Keep, and why events unfolded exactly as they did.
Melisandre watched him closely, noting his hesitation and the way his expression shifted between contemplation and doubt. Interpreting his silence as evasion, her face darkened slightly. "Friend of the Night's Watch, I've been rude. I don't believe I've asked your name yet."
"You can call me Aegor," he said flatly.
"Well, Aegor," Melisandre said softly, her tone taking on a more persuasive edge, "if you know anything, it would be wise to tell me."
The witch regarded the Night's Watch as hardened warriors, standing guard against unimaginable horrors in the frozen North. In her eyes, they were the toughest of men, and Aegor, in particular, intrigued her. Deciding to adopt a gentler approach, she continued, "The two gods who left their marks on you are far beyond the power of mortals in the South. Either one could end your life with a single flick of their finger. Only the Lord of Light can protect you now."
---
Aegor hesitated. He didn't know whether the "gods" of this world were truly omnipotent, transcendent beings as described in legend, or simply more powerful entities that had mastered the use of magic. But regardless of which they were, one thing was clear: R'hllor, the Lord of Light, was a real and formidable force in this world.
If he had to pledge himself to a deity, R'hllor would certainly be a strong candidate. But Aegor faced a problem, he was not an ordinary man. He carried too many secrets. As the saying goes, an innocent man becomes guilty by holding a treasure. If he threw himself into the arms of a god recklessly, it might work out well if they could cooperate openly. But what if this "god" became greedy for the knowledge in his mind or curious about the possibilities of worlds beyond this one? What if it decided to drain him of everything he knew, and then discard or even destroy him? Aegor would have no means of resistance.
He couldn't even stand up to a single priest of R'hllor, let alone bargain with a divine being. Before he had the power to sit at the same table as these players, entrusting his life to someone or something he didn't understand would not be a wise move.
Moreover, he had to consider the backstory he had crafted for himself. An outsider from beyond the Sunset Sea who had managed to quickly integrate into Westerosi society was already a rarity. How could he reveal secrets that even the locals didn't know without exposing himself further?
In a cold, ruthless world filled with unfathomable supernatural powers, caution was always the best policy.
With that in mind, Aegor composed himself, adopting a confused expression. After organizing his thoughts, he began to speak:
"That happened during King Robert's northern tour. I went south with Chief Ranger Benjen Stark to report the movements of the wildlings and White Walkers beyond the Wall to the Warden of the North. One day, while I was training alone in a quiet corner of Winterfell, I noticed Lord Stark's second son climbing the castle walls. I was worried he might fall, so I tried to dissuade him... but the boy wouldn't listen. In the end, he was startled by someone who suddenly poked their head out of the First Keep and lost his footing.
"But no matter how you look at it, it was just an accident. If I offended any god in the process, then that god must have wanted Bran to fall to die, or to become disabled.