CHAPTER 286 Arrival at Castle Black

297 AC

As Jon, Benjen, and their group arrived at Castle Black, they were met with a mixture of disbelief and skepticism because of what they had encountered. Gathered in the common area, they recounted their harrowing experiences beyond the Wall to a crowd of curious and incredulous faces.

Benjen's voice carried a flicker of fear as he described the chilling encounter with the white walker and the monstrous ice spider, his words punctuated by Jon's corroborating accounts of the battle that ensued. Despite their earnestness, disbelief lingered in the air like a heavy fog.

Other than Ned, all the faces in the room looked at them with furrowed brows. Some of them trusted the words of their brother-in-arms, but for most, the fantastical nature of their account strained the limits of credulity. They exchanged dubious glances, murmuring amongst themselves as they struggled to make sense of what they were hearing.

As Jon and Benjen concluded their account, a heavy silence descended upon the room, you could only hear the crackling of the hearth. The room was in complete silence. Everyone was trying to contemplate what if it was real; what were they going to do? What could they do against the army of the dead?

Ned's mind was in turmoil, and for another reason, what Bran saw was real. They were really chased by darkness and death. Old Nan's stories came to his mind. At this point, they sounded more like historical accounts rather than stories.

He remembered the stories about the greenseers. If Others were real, the rest of the stories could be real, too. He looked at the teenager sitting right next to him. He felt nostalgic. When did his little boy turn into a young man?

His eyes drifted to the big, dire wolf lying at Bran's feet like an obedient dog. His son was a warg. He could be a greenseer too. Ned needed to talk about this with Aermir.

....

After pacifiying the free Folk Aermir reached the Castle Black. As he landed in the middle of the courtyard some looked at him with reverence and others with hatred. Valemen might have accepted their fate, but they hated Aermir with all their being.

Ned, Rob, Bran, and Jeor had come out of the keep and greeted him. Jear saluted him and, with a grateful voice, said, "Druid, I have a debt of gratitude for saving my men's lives."

The wooden mask turned into a smile, and Aermir said,

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"I am here to accomplish Old Gods' will. They decided Jon, Benjen, and the rest had more things to do for the betterment of the realm. Now, let us talk about what is important."

Just as they were getting ready to enter the keep, Bran got in front of Aermir and said,

"Teacher, thank you for saving my big brother." a tear dropped from one of his eyes, and he continued with a voice full of emotion, "I-I really thought we were going to lose him. I would like to serve you and learn more from you. I want to join the Temple of the Old Gods."

Aermir was a bit surprised; he had taught them about being a warg, but he didn't want to turn his childhood friends into his men since he didn't want to lose that connection. Whenever someone learned who he really was, the way they looked and acted around him always changed. The warm and friendly look on their face would be replaced with reverence or unconditional zealot love.

They would always stop seeing Aermir and only see Druid Emrys. He didn't want Jon, Rob, or Bran to look at him like how Bran was looking at him right now. His eyes were full of reverence; it was on the border of worship.

His mind had stopped, Aermir couldn't just refuse his service in front of all those people but if he accepted Bran into the Temple. When the time comes he has to tell him who he really was or he would feel excluded and left behind as he spent time in the Temple. Refusing his pledge would be a great insult to his honor.

He had to earn more time so he could think about what to do next. He tried to look as intimidating as possible. "I have been teaching you all because of your Lord Father. You can pledge yourself to the Old Gods and work for the Temple, too. All the children of the Old Gods are welcome there. I cannot decide who to accept or who to refuse, but to work for me cannot be achieved just because you want to. First, you need to train as a priest, and if you have what it takes. We will see if you can become a Druid."

Aermir looked at everyone's faces, and he saw they accepted his answer. This power made him too alone since he had to be cautious against his hidden enemy, but in times like this, it was a blessing. Because of his power, everyone accepted anything he said as long as he spewed some bullshit about the Old Gods. This stunt earned him six months or a year, but it wasn't a permanent solution to this problem.

...

After Bran's problem, Jon and Benjen came up to him and showed their gratitude to Aermir. The people inside the Castle saw respected and powerful people bow down to Aermir or show great respect to him. They, too, started to show respect to him.

After many shows of gratitude from many other people from the Night's Watchmen, They finally reached the meeting room. The meeting room of Castle Black was lit with many torches and some oil lamps. In the middle of the ceiling, there was a big circular frame, and on top of that frame were many torches. Along the walls, there were some torches too.

The torches were casting long shadows across the weathered wooden table. Tattered black banners adorned the stone walls representing the Watch. As the assembled leaders of the Night's Watch convened in the meeting room of Castle Black, the atmosphere was tense with skepticism and disbelief.

Jeor Mormont, the Lord Commander, presided over the gathering with a solemn demeanor; his grizzled visage looked more grim than usual since he was still contemplating how real and, if real, how powerful were Others.

...

"Alliser, Cotter, Jaremy," Mormont began, addressing the senior officers of the Watch, "I understand your concerns, but we cannot afford to underestimate the threat that looms beyond the Wall. The reports from Jon and Benjen are troubling, to say the least."

Alliser Thorne, ever the skeptic, scoffed dismissively. "With all due respect, Lord Commander, tales of white walkers and giant ice spiders belong in the realm of children's stories, not in the halls of Castle Black. I say we focus on the real enemies— the Wildlings who seek to breach our defenses and spill our blood."