"Fear," Aegor concluded, his tone grave. "The greatest fortifications and standing armies were built to confront the most terrifying of enemies. It was fear that drove our ancestors thousands of years ago to construct walls as high as these and to sustain an army of over ten thousand n, soldiers who neither produced anything nor were mobilized for daily affairs. There is no other reasonable explanation."
"Well, you make a valid point," Tyrion admitted candidly. "But, forgive for being insistent, I simply cannot believe in the existence of legendary monsters until I see one with my own eyes."
"It's your right not to believe," Aegor said with a shrug, clearly unbothered. He wasn't trying to convince Tyrion of the existence of the White Walkers. "In truth, I didn't believe it myself, until the day I faced a White Walker in battle. I watched as it shattered the steel sword in my hand with its ice blade as if the sword were made of fragile glass."
"Until just now, I thought you were rely the Night's Watch's accountant. How does soone like you end up fighting White Walkers?" Tyrion asked curiously. "Are you a ranger, or do you hold so other post?"
"Ranger," Aegor replied, nodding. Then his gaze shifted to Jon. "Young man, do you want to know why your uncle doesn't support you joining the Night's Watch? Co with and see the steel sword that was shattered by the White Walker. You'll soon understand how utterly powerless swordsmanship and skills are against such an enemy."
Without hesitation, Jon followed Aegor, curiosity written across his face. Tyrion hesitated for a mont but eventually trailed behind them. Aegor felt a small sense of relief, his real intention wasn't just to show Jon the broken blade, but to find a pretext to get closer to Tyrion and discuss a matter of interest.
Aegor led them to the room Benjen had arranged for them. Inside, the Night's Watchman presented the evidence he had brought back from the Wall to Winterfell, which was ant to be shown to Eddard Stark in a plea for aid. He laid it all out on a small wooden table for his two guests to examine.
"The sword that belonged to Waymar Royce was more severely damaged, so it was left to your father, Lord Benjen, to be passed on to the victim's family—the Earl of Runestone," Aegor explained as he placed several broken swords on the table. "The ones you see here belonged to and my comrade, Gary."
Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "The version I heard was that Waymar Royce went missing on patrol and is confird dead."
"I saw him fighting the White Walkers with my own eyes," Aegor lied, his expression calm. In truth, he had only heard about it, but the fact remained, Waymar was dead. "Originally, my fellow ranger and I were destined to die as well, but a dragonglass dagger saved our lives. That black shard you see there, I made it myself. If you're curious, you can place the broken swords together and take a closer look. Not many people get to see a steel blade frozen and cracked by ice magic."
Jon, being young and eager, quickly leaned in to inspect the shards. Tyrion, on the other hand, showed little interest in broken weapons. With his hands clasped behind his back, he strolled leisurely around the room. Not spotting any wine jugs or goblets, he returned to Aegor and looked up at him.
"Your na is Aegor? Aegor what?"
Aegor chuckled inwardly, relieved at the chance to keep the conversation going. "That's not my real na. It's just a nickna given to by so Westerosi farrs. I don't even know what it ans." He gave a self-deprecating smile. "I don't have a proper surna like most people. Where I co from, nas are... a little different."
"I thought you looked a bit different. You're not from Westeros. Where are you from? Essos? The Sumr Isles? Surely not Sothoryos?" Tyrion speculated.
"None of those," Aegor replied. "I co from a land your people call Tsena, a continent far west beyond the Sunset Sea. In my language, Tsena ans 'Middle-earth.' For thousands of years, we've believed our land is the center of the world, surrounded by nothing but endless ocean and scattered islands."
"Tsena, huh?" Tyrion's initial intent was to indulge his curiosity about the Night's Watchman, but Aegor's unexpected answer piqued his interest. "I've never heard of this place. How did you co to Westeros and end up as a Night's Watchman?"
"That's a long story," Aegor said, sensing that things were progressing smoothly. Tyrion was clearly hooked. Now, Aegor needed to steer the conversation carefully. "Our scholars studied the stars, made calculations, and reached a conclusion: the world is a sphere. They theorized that if a ship sailed far enough in one direction, it would eventually return to the starting point. To prove this, the ruler of Tsena ordered a fleet to undertake long-distance exploration. We built several sturdy steel ships and sent them sailing north, south, east, and west."
"Steel ships? That's impossible," Tyrion interrupted, his brow furrowed in disbelief.
"Does an iron bowl sink when placed in water?" Aegor countered. "A steel ship works on the sa principle. What determines whether a ship floats is displacent, not the material it's made from. Tsena's technology is far ahead of Westeros's. I could explain it in detail if you're interested."
"Iron bowls... displacent..." Tyrion muttered, his sharp mind quickly grasping the concept. But soon, another question arose. "Still, how do you build an iron bowl large enough to carry people? Wouldn't it sink the mont there's a leak?"
"We use a technique called welding," Aegor explained. "It lts the joints between steel plates, fusing them into a single piece. I'm not an expert, so I can't give you the finer details, but that's the general idea."
"Fascinating," Tyrion admitted, his mind clearly racing as he visualized the process. "Alright, go on with your story."
"As a known adventurer, I couldn't resist joining such an extraordinary expedition. After donating a considerable amount of money to the project, I secured a cabin on one of the ships and set sail with the fleet heading east. After several months at sea, we finally reached Westeros."
"I haven't heard of any foreign ships landing on the Sunset Sea. Where's your ship now?" Tyrion asked.
"It sank," Aegor admitted with a rueful sigh. "We encountered a storm while searching for a place to land. Although our steel ship was designed to withstand storms, a monstrous wave hurled it onto a reef. As you suspected, steel ships are strong but sink faster than anything once breached. I was lucky to survive, as I happened to be on deck admiring the waves. After drifting for several days, I eventually made it ashore."
"And after that?" Tyrion pressed. "Have the northerners gone mad, arresting every stray foreigner and sending them to the Wall?"
"I was starving when I reached land. The first thing I did was search for food. Unfortunately, I ca across a village where no one understood and refused to help. Left with no choice, I decided to take what I needed. Clearly, theft isn't my strong suit, I was caught almost imdiately." Aegor gave a self-mocking laugh. "The magistrate gave a choice: lose a hand or take the black. So, here I am."
"You an to say," Tyrion's eyes widened in disbelief, "you're the first man from Tsena to reach Westeros, and you ended up as a conscript of the Night's Watch?"
"That's one way to put it," Aegor said with a shrug.
"This," Tyrion said, his tone laced with incredulity, "is the most absurd story I've heard all year. If I had to choose, I think I'd sooner believe in the existence of White Walkers."
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