"Ser, do we still have a majority of gold dragons left?" Dany looked at the old knight.
"More than thirty," he replied.
"Hand them all over to Steward Marsi. Winter is coming, and the days will only get harder. Starting today, every brother of the Night's Watch will receive one silver stag per month until the next summer arrives. When the money runs out, I'll send over a few more sacks," she said.
One gold dragon could be exchanged for 210 silver stags. Thirty gold dragons would just about cover the wages of the entire Night's Watch for a year.
"A few sacks?"
"Your Grace, are you serious?" Toad-faced Tod couldn't help shouting.
"One silver coin? Gods, I've never even seen a silver stag before!" a short Night's Watch brother said excitedly.
"One silver stag a month, twelve a year... Seven above, even the knight who tends the fields at the village entrance, with only a couple hundred acres, doesn't earn that much!" an old Night's Watch brother with missing front teeth counted on his fingers.
"Isn't that a bit much?" Maester Aemon frowned.
"Too much? If it weren't for the scarcity of supplies up here, and if there were things to spend on, I'd hand out a gold dragon each!" Dany said boldly.
"Gulp." Old Aemon struggled to swallow his saliva and almost fainted.
"A gold dragon each..." Gasps filled the hall.
Dany smiled faintly and declared to everyone, "Do not doubt it. You can send ravens to the Seven Kingdoms and tell all of Westeros: As long as you don the black and survive the winter, when spring comes, I will award fifty gold dragons to each Night's Watch brother — one gold dragon per month for four years of the Long Winter!"
"How much money would that be?!" Aemon murmured, dazed.
"Your Grace, you're not joking?" Steward Pomegranate asked incredulously.
"Targaryens always keep their word!"
"Thud, thud..." Seven or eight black brothers, their faces flushed and blood rushing to their heads, fainted from excitement.
"Your Grace, once this news spreads, countless desperate peasants will flock to the Wall to join the Night's Watch — by the thousands. If we can't fulfill this promise..." Maester Aemon warned anxiously.
"Hahaha! Even if ten thousand come, or even a hundred thousand, it's only five million gold dragons at most," Dany laughed heartily.
"Five million... gold dragons... only?" Alliser Thorne and Janos Slynt stammered, exchanging bewildered looks.
"Barristan," Dany called out to the red-nosed old man standing aside with a look of disdain, "tell everyone whether I can keep this promise."
The old knight gave the hall a sweeping glance, like a city man looking at country bumpkins, raised his chin slightly, and said indifferently, "If Her Majesty is not defeated by the allied forces after winter, not to mention a hundred thousand, even if a million joined the Night's Watch, she could support them. If the allied forces are defeated and Her Majesty becomes ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, even if every adult male comes to guard the Wall, it would be no problem. She'll be the world's supreme empress, with enough gold to build another Wall entirely out of gold!"
"Thud, thud, thud..." The legs of many Night's Watch brothers gave out; even Jon Snow wobbled unsteadily, shivering under Dany's overwhelming presence.
Dany's boldness wasn't purely for show — though, of course, it was partly for that. Coming to the Wall, she realized just how few brothers the Watch had left. If they had ten thousand men, the nineteen castles along the Wall could all be manned, and the wildlings would cease to be a threat.
With Dany around, she wasn't worried about wildlings breaching the Wall. But with only a few hundred men, how could they possibly manage the tens of thousands of captured wildlings?
Moreover, if she stayed on the right side of the Wall with her dragons and didn't wander off beyond it, a strong enough Watch would make it very difficult for the Night King to cross.
Compared to the fate of the entire world — even if Dany felt little affection for Westerosi — a few million gold dragons were a small price to pay.
At least it was a thousand times better spent than Robert Baratheon wasting it on wine and feasts.
"Long live Her Majesty the Queen! Long live the true dragon! Long live the mighty dragon!"
This time, the hall was nearly full. Hundreds of Night's Watch brothers raised their drinking horns and toasted Queen Dany, their cheers shaking the room, filled with genuine emotion and heartfelt loyalty.
After all, everyone now knew about the "winter bonus" Her Majesty had offered:
Fifty gold dragons!
How could they not sincerely bless her?
After several rounds of wine and food, Dany, sitting at the head of the table, cleared her throat and said to the senior members of the Watch on either side, "Lord Commander Mormont has been dead for more than half a year, and you still haven't elected a new Lord Commander. What are your plans? Tomorrow, we'll begin negotiations with the wildlings. Whether or not the talks succeed, you must at least send a representative."
"Your Grace, we must not let the wildlings cross the Wall!" Ser Alliser Thorne quickly protested.
"It's true that if they lay down their arms and surrender unconditionally, it would benefit both sides. But with only six or seven hundred brothers manning the Wall, we can't possibly control so many people outside," said Ser Denys Mallister, the cautious and steady commander of the Shadow Tower, also voicing opposition.
The gray-haired knight had been the commander of the Shadow Tower for thirty-three years. He was the uncle of the Lord of Seagard, a man of great seniority and prestige, and Dany had to respect his opinion.
"There are only three paths for the tens of thousands of wildlings outside:
Desperate resistance, breaking through the Wall and ravaging the North.
With my two dragons and your six hundred men, we could blockade the wildlings beyond the Wall and let the winter starve and freeze nine-tenths of them to death.
Negotiate and find a mutually acceptable solution to minimize casualties."
"Ser Mallister, do you have a fourth option?" she asked.
"I do not, but..." The gray-haired old knight's face was firm and resolute as he gritted his teeth. "Winter always brings death. Thousands of commoners across the Seven Kingdoms will freeze and starve. The North, having endured endless strife, is barely better off than the wildlings. But food supplies are limited. Even if we capture all the wildlings, we don't have enough provisions to save them."
"How do we deal with the White Walkers?" Jon, seated among the common members, couldn't help but ask.
"White Walkers..." The old knight's hard, cold expression cracked slightly as he shook his head in helplessness. "I don't know. I understand what you're trying to say—one wildling falls, another wight rises—but I truly have no idea how to resolve this crisis."
"Are White Walkers even real?" Perestan, sitting across from Jon, frowned.
He had firmly believed that White Walkers were nothing more than a gimmick the Night's Watch used to scam sponsorships. However, after arriving at the Wall and seeing how naturally the Night's Watch treated their existence as fact, his beliefs began to waver.
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"Your Grace, you toured beyond the Wall this morning—did you find any White Walkers?" the old man asked.
"No, not even a living dead. It seems they're avoiding the sunlight. When we negotiate with the King-beyond-the-Wall tomorrow, we can ask them," Dany shook her head and replied.
"Ah, if only Slaver's Bay wasn't so far away, food wouldn't be a problem at all," Barristan Selmy sighed.
"Hmm, Ser, your words have given me an idea," Dany's eyes lit up as inspiration struck, and she smiled brightly. "How about this—we select wildlings who have families to guard the Wall, while their families accompany me across the Narrow Sea.
With their loved ones held as hostages, even the most unruly wildlings would have to obey the Night's Watch. Meanwhile, their families could cultivate the fertile lands of the Rhoyne River Plains."
"This—" Such a fantastical plan left the Night's Watchmen listening in the hall utterly bewildered.
"Your Grace, I don't quite understand. How would the wildlings even get to Essos? We're talking about tens of thousands of people—how many ships would that require? And why would the Free Cities even agree to take them in?" Aemon asked curiously after regaining his composure.
"Old Master, the lands seen by a true dragon are all royal domains!" Dany said, a cold, proud smile curling at the corner of her mouth. "Why should it matter whether they agree? Even without the wildlings, with just the few hundred giants and my dragons, who in the world could stand against my might?"
"Using the wildlings to conquer the Free Cities?" Jon's brow furrowed into an awkward expression. He said unhappily, "Is it right to attack other countries without cause? How many would die?"
"Boy, you're missing the point. The Free Cities have already declared war on Her Majesty," the red-nosed old maester said, shaking his head and giving Dany a complex look. "Your Grace's breadth, vision, and wisdom are truly admirable—to come up with a plan that solves the problems of the wildlings, the White Walkers, and our alliances all at once!
Without a doubt, this plan would be a victory for Your Grace, for the wildlings, and for Westeros. Perhaps before winter even fully arrives, Your Grace could be crowned the first Empress of the world."
The hall fell silent. Several senior members of the Night's Watch furrowed their brows in deep thought. Even the usually rowdy brothers, who loved drinking and telling bawdy jokes, became unnaturally quiet, moving about softly.
"This matter is too great for me alone. I can't bear the responsibility or consequences. Only the Lord Commander can give you a final answer," said Bowen Marsh, his face full of unease.
"Then let's elect a new Lord Commander!" Dany said, looking around with curiosity. "Who are the candidates?"
"All brothers of the Night's Watch are eligible to become Lord Commander—and all have the right to vote."
Just as Maester Aemon finished speaking, a short, stocky man with a double chin—Janos Slynt—stood up and said loudly, "I was once Commander of the City Watch, leading three thousand gold cloaks, and I was also the Earl of Harrenhal—"
"Earl, your title has changed," the red-nosed old maester reminded him, giving him a complicated look. "At present, Harrenhal belongs to Duke Petyr Baelish."
Slynt's jaw trembled for a moment before he forced a laugh and said, "Good, then. Everyone knows Harrenhal is cursed.
'Blackheart' Harren was burned alive inside Harrenhal by Balerion the Black Dread the very day it was completed. Afterward, House Qoherys was exterminated by 'Redheart' Harwyn, then the third lord, House Harroway, was slaughtered by Maegor the Cruel. The fourth, House Towers, died out without heirs... Sigh, thinking about it, it's truly terrifying. In just three hundred years, Harrenhal has had nine different ruling houses. I was the tenth.
Yet before I could even reach the castle, I fell into ruin, just like the previous lords. At least I still have the black to wear and can serve the people of the Seven Kingdoms.
Now that Littlefinger is the eleventh lord... who knows how long he'll last?"
Even Dany was stunned. She hadn't realized before, but with this reminder, she saw that Harrenhal really did seem cursed. She didn't know what would happen to Slynt, but Littlefinger was definitely doomed.
Who would become the twelfth lord of Harrenhal?Maybe, in the future, she could send Tyrion or Jon to give it a try—If they survived the Long Night.
Puffing out his chest, Slynt declared loudly, "Brothers, I have the qualifications and ability to be Lord Commander. Please trust me and cast your vote for me!"
"You're not suitable," Dany shook her head. "Neither you nor Ser Alliser can become Lord Commander."
(End of Chapter)
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