GOT/ASOIAF: Ruler Beyond the Ice

Benjen gave a firm order to gather the remaining horses closer to the tent. He then took Aegor and Yoren to set up traps and alarm mechanisms among the surrounding trees to guard against another ambush. After organizing a rotation for night sentry duty, he allowed everyone to move about freely before focusing on preparing dinner again.

"What did I just witness? One moment you're quoting philosophers, and the next you're a proper warrior," Tyrion said, drinking what little broth was left in the pot. Though he tried to keep his tone light, his voice still carried the lingering shock of the attack. Protected by Aegor during the skirmish, the dwarf now regarded the Night's Watchman with a mix of gratitude and confusion. "I never believed that the Night's Watch were the most elite force in the Seven Kingdoms, but now... now I'm beginning to wonder if you really did kill a White Walker."

In any fight against wildlings, even a ragtag group of soldiers could seem like elite warriors, Aegor thought to himself with a wry smile. But he knew better than to diminish the prestige of the Night's Watch in front of an outsider. "Well, thank you for the compliment, but I wasn't lying to you."

"Call me Tyrion," the dwarf said, leaning back slightly. "I owe you a debt for your help today. I'll do my best to honor our agreement."

"Thank you, Tyrion... cough," Aegor replied, his voice stiff. After spending so much time adapting to the formalities and rigid hierarchy of Westeros, being addressed so informally caught him off guard.

The incident had begun and ended in mere moments. Aegor had no idea how Tyrion perceived his actions during the attack, but he was keenly aware that he hadn't done anything particularly remarkable.

The truly brave and capable wildlings had already gathered under Mance Rayder's banner, preparing for the harsh winter atop the Frostfangs and devising ways to confront the White Walkers. The wildlings who had attacked them were nothing more than stragglers, weak even by wildling standards. Any trained soldier could have won that fight, provided they weren't struck down by the initial volley of arrows.

Forming a defensive line and charging to drive the wildlings off was simply following Benjen's orders and executing them with precision. Any other ranger could have done the same.

The only unique thing Aegor had done was shield Tyrion during the chaos and that had been entirely deliberate. After all, Tyrion was his key to escaping the Wall. But even without his intervention, the wildlings' crude and scattered attacks wouldn't have posed any real danger to the dwarf. Perhaps it was this small, subconscious act of protection that left such an impression on Tyrion.

Still, Aegor saw no reason to clarify the situation. Tyrion was likely experiencing his first real battle and had let his imagination inflate the bravery and skill of those who protected him. Since this misunderstanding worked in Aegor's favor, there was no harm in leaving it uncorrected.

"Why were the wildlings here?" Jon asked, his voice tinged with both excitement and unease. He had killed an enemy for the first time in his life, and the mix of guilt and adrenaline still colored his face a deep red. He seemed unable to calm himself. "Back at Winterfell, we rarely heard of wildlings coming this far south."

"It's true that it hasn't happened often," Aegor replied seriously. "Crossing the Wall is incredibly dangerous. If they just wanted to survive, they could've made do with the resources in the Wolfswood. But these wildlings... they're not just looking for food. They're trying to get further south to find a place to wait out the winter and escape the White Walkers.

"But without proper transportation or supplies, they have no chance of avoiding the patrols of the northern lords, let alone making it as far as the Neck. That's why they're desperate enough to attack us. Even if they fail, they'll likely target the nearest villages next."

"White Walkers," muttered one of Tyrion's guards, shivering visibly. "Aren't those just old stories? Monsters from legend? You don't mean to say they're real?"

On any normal day, no one would take talk of White Walkers seriously. But fresh off the tension of the skirmish, and surrounded by the eerie, shifting shadows of the forest, the guard's nerves were clearly frayed. The cold wind rustled the trees, adding to the sense of unease.

"Don't worry," Jon said with sudden enthusiasm. "This guy killed one before." There was a hint of pride in his voice, as if knowing Aegor personally lent him some kind of reflected glory. "If one of those ghostly things shows up... Aegor, you still have that obsidian dagger, right?"

"Of course," Aegor replied, patting his bag with a grin. "Don't worry. Even if the White Walkers could get past the Wall, which they can't, I'd just take them down one by one."

Although he sounded confident, Aegor wasn't nearly as calm as he appeared. He couldn't shake the thought of what was happening north of the Wall at this very moment. The lands beyond the Wall had likely become a frozen wasteland of death, with scattered wildlings either fleeing south or joining the army of the dead.

The thought unsettled him deeply. Even though he had resolved to leave the Wall and avoid a direct confrontation with the White Walkers, he couldn't escape the reality that he was still part of this world. If the Wall were breached and the Seven Kingdoms fell under attack, what would a time traveler with no allies or powerful backing do? Escape to another continent? Even that would be an uncertain and perilous journey.

Dinner, which had been interrupted by the wildling attack, was eventually finished without further incident. No one felt tired enough to sleep, so the group lingered for a while, chatting quietly. Eventually, Benjen emerged from his tent, his face stern as he addressed the group.

"Stop talking and get some rest. Up until now, we've been able to camp in relatively secure areas. But the terrain ahead is flat and barren, offering no protection. If we continue at our current pace, we'll need three more days of travel and two nights in the open. That's far too dangerous." He paused, letting his words sink in. "After careful consideration, I've decided to start a forced march at dawn. We won't camp at night. We'll push the horses to their limits and try to reach Castle Black within a day and a half."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Aegor, however, couldn't help but notice how the plot seemed to be subtly shifting. This wildling attack wasn't part of the original timeline, and he couldn't help but wonder if his presence, the metaphorical butterfly had caused the ripple. Perhaps his actions had altered the group's route, or perhaps the wildlings who should have been killed by the White Walker he had slain had attacked them instead.

Either way, things were different now. One unexpected attack could lead to another. While the wildlings themselves weren't particularly threatening, their arrows and stones could still kill.

"All right, then," Aegor said, standing up. "You all head inside and get some rest. Jack and I will take the first watch. Leave your things here—we'll clean up."

The others quickly obeyed, and soon the camp was quiet. As Tyrion passed by, he patted Aegor on the shoulder. "Well then, be careful, the both of you."

The first half of the night passed uneventfully. When it was Jon and Morce's turn to take over the watch, Aegor and Jack finally got some rest.

At sunrise, the group rose early, packed up their tents and supplies, and saddled the horses for the forced march north.

The weather had worsened. The temperature had dropped below freezing, and snow now blanketed the ground. For Aegor, accustomed to grueling ranger missions and his harrowing Ten Days of Escape, the forced march was nothing unusual. But the rest of the group wasn't as hardened.

After traveling over a hundred leagues in a little more than a day, Tyrion and his two guards looked utterly miserable. By the time they passed through the gates of Castle Black, they could barely dismount their horses. Their legs trembled beneath them, and they stumbled like newborn calves, as though they'd forgotten how to walk.