GOT: Chapter 331: The Legendary Broken Engagement (Part 1)

The process of overthinking was the most painful. After making his decision inwardly, Aegor felt much more at ease. He forced himself to put aside the emotional weight of Roose Bolton’s words and threw himself into the work at hand.

With the White Walkers as his opponents, this was not hard to do.

On this trip south to request funds from the Northern lords, Aegor’s expectation had been to raise between thirty and fifty thousand golden dragons. But he soon discovered he was not the first Commander to ask for money upon taking office. The nobles, long accustomed to paying their “protection fees,” already had an amount in mind, leaving him no room to bargain. He could only accept what was offered.

From the various families, aside from the Boltons, he scraped together about fifteen thousand golden dragons in total. Adding the ten thousand borrowed from the Old Flayer, the sum surprisingly neared his minimum target, and most of it did not even need to be repaid.

The promises of gold were secured, but no one would bring such sums to the battlefield. Aegor would need to send his men with tokens to each castle to collect the funds. Beyond the money, Robb Stark, Warden of the North, had unexpectedly provided manpower as well. He issued an order across all his lands, commanding idle stonemasons, carpenters, and other craftsmen to assemble at Winterfell, preparing to march north to aid in constructing the West Coast military port.

The Gift did not lack for laborers, but skilled masters were almost nonexistent. The participation of this group would greatly improve the overall quality of Aegor’s workforce, and also save him a great deal of expense in recruiting talent. Robb attaching such importance to the military port was very useful to Aegor. After some thought, he decided to make a stop at Winterfell along the way, collect the Stark family’s “donation,” and then bring these craftsmen back to Crown Town. It would show his respect to the Warden of the North, and also make clear his regard for technical skill.

...

With the construction and development of the Gift, Crown Town at its center grew increasingly tied to the South. Winterfell, standing on the King’s Road, had inevitably become a vital hub. Every few days, Night’s Watch Industry workers on business would pass through, staying temporarily in the castle.

Normally, frequent uninvited guests would not be welcome. Yet, under Robb’s command, Winterfell did not dare to slight them. More servants were added to ensure no oversight, and rooms in the guest building were even set aside exclusively for personnel of the Night’s Watch.

At this moment, Aegor stood by the training yard in front of the guest building, breathing fresh air as he observed the soldiers drilling in the yard.

He would have preferred to simply take the money, receive the craftsmen, and leave quietly. But the castle was only so large, and news of his visit could not be hidden from the second young lady.

As expected, after only a short while, Arya came running excitedly toward him.

“Master, Master!”

Though his scalp tingled, Aegor forced a kindly smile, nodding at Arya, who no doubt thought he had come especially to see her. The one trailing behind her—no, she should be called Maeve now—was also present.

“Master,” Arya said as she clung unhesitatingly to his arm, “Maeve wanted to ask how her two brothers are doing at the Wall, but she was too embarrassed to come alone, so I came with her.”

“They are not at the Wall,” Aegor said with a gentle smile to the former Princess of House Baratheon. “They are in Crown Town, far from the front lines, at the school I established for the Grey Area Citizens. They serve as Night’s Watch members ‘supervising’ the students. Of course, while they hold the title of supervisors, they are also studying. I instructed the teachers to give them extra care. With the background of their Maester training, they should find it quite easy.”

“My Lord’s words put me at ease. I am truly grateful—”

“I already told you, my Master will take good care of your brothers. As long as Joffrey doesn’t think himself a Prince and bully others again... Hmph.” Arya interrupted as usual, cutting Maeve off. But her excited expression quickly turned into irritation for some reason. “Master, my thirteenth nameday is coming soon!”

A nameday in Westeros was much like a birthday. Aegor was surprised, quickly putting on an apologetic look. “Oh, really... Oh dear, I did not prepare a gift for you.”

“Who wants your gift!” Arya stamped her foot in annoyance. “That Harry is here. He says he wants to celebrate my nameday with me!”

“Which Harry?” Aegor was confused. Surely not Harry Potter?

His cluelessness instantly betrayed that he did not care for her affairs, which angered the girl. Arya shook his arm harder and even pinched him. “Harrold Hardyng! My cousin Robert Arryn’s heir, everyone calls him ‘Harry the Heir!’ Oh gods, he’s my betrothed!”

Ah, so that was it. Aegor suddenly understood. It was not that he had forgotten, but rather that the man had little connection to him and was not worth remembering.

No wonder Catelyn had sent someone to Crown Town weeks ago to urge Arya to return. So, the son-in-law had arrived. “What, is he so eager to marry you? In the North, how young can one wed?”

“I don’t know, it seems there’s no rule?” Arya said gloomily. “Anyway, thirteen is old enough. What should I do? I still don’t want to marry.”

“Probably not. Harry is likely only here to meet you at his family’s urging, to begin fostering a bond,” Maeve said softly, trying to soothe her. “Thirteen is indeed the minimum age for marriage. But generally, only when the groom’s family is much stronger than the bride’s, or when both sides are desperate to seal an alliance, would marriage come so early. In Arya’s case, the Hardyngs would not dare to push it, at least not before she turns sixteen.”

...

Maeve was a princess by birth, and she understood the noble game well.

The reason House Stark had arranged Arya’s betrothal was because the current Lord of the Vale, Robert Arryn of the Eyrie, was a frail child prone to seizures. His health was very poor, and he might die before leaving an heir. Among the Vale nobility, “Harry the Heir,” by virtue of his grandmother being an Arryn, had risen to first in the line of succession.

But Robert Arryn still lived, and he was the cousin of the Lord of Winterfell. The alliance between the North and the Vale was natural, both by blood and by politics. The condition that “both parties are eager to confirm their alliance” clearly was not met. Arya’s betrothal was merely a safeguard, to be called upon only in the worst case.

...

“Did you hear that? Pray for your little cousin. As long as he lives, no one will push you to wed before sixteen. What are you panicking for?” Aegor tried to shake free of Arya’s arms but could not. He could only let her cling to him. “Your betrothed, where is he? Are you not afraid he will see you like this, grow jealous, and mistreat you in the future?”

“He is still on the way. Two more days before he arrives,” Arya said gloomily, still pressed against him. “But I just don’t want to marry. Not now, not at sixteen, never.”

“What nonsense is this? Do you think such matters rest on your whim?” Aegor sighed helplessly, recalling Roose Bolton’s suggestion. The Stark family’s place was coveted by others, yet Arya, the second daughter, still carried the naive thought of shirking her duty as a noble to secure her house’s position. It truly was...

“Master, help me think of a way to break off the engagement.”

Pfft. The legendary broken engagement? A classic scene.

The phrase instantly stirred odd associations in Aegor’s mind. But under his strong sense of reason, he quickly pushed them aside and glared at her. “What nonsense is that? Engagements cannot be broken lightly. And even if they could, what place do I, a Night’s Watch Commander, have in such matters?”

“Isn’t there nothing that can stump you? What’s so scary about helping your most obedient apprentice break off an engagement?” Arya began to act spoiled, twisting against him and rubbing her head against his arm. “Oh, I don’t care. You must think of a way for me. At least... at least three!”

Yes, you are my only apprentice. The most obedient, the most beautiful, the most adorable, the most excellent. With no competition, you get to say whatever you please. Aegor’s head throbbed. The impression he gave others, that he could solve anything, was not because he truly could, but because he never attempted tasks beyond his confidence.

But helping the Warden of the North’s sister break off her betrothal? This was not about confidence, it was about having nowhere to even begin.

“Stop this nonsense!”

“I will not!” Arya clung to him like a drowning girl to driftwood. “If you don’t give me three ideas today, I won’t leave. I’ll even crawl into your bed tonight!”

Gods, Aegor wailed inwardly. How could this brat say anything so recklessly? There were people listening! He truly should have gone straight back to Crown Town from Deepwood Motte. As for collecting funds and craftsmen at Winterfell, anyone else could have managed.

“All right, all right, I will think of ideas!” Aegor had no doubt Arya would keep her threat. Afraid that she might even reveal their sleeping arrangements if pressed, he yielded quickly. “Let go first.”

“Okay.” Arya released him and stood there beaming, triumphant. Most likely she thought that as long as it came from Aegor, it would be foolproof.

...

With the White Walkers threatening, Roose Bolton scheming, and now a noble girl demanding help to break off her betrothal, life was absurd indeed. Aegor resolved that, unless knives rained from the sky, he would set out for Crown Town as soon as Winterfell opened its gates tomorrow, leaving the rest for his subordinates.

Despite the headache, he began thinking seriously, wanting to come up with three ideas quickly, just to be rid of the little she-wolf for today.

(To be continued.)