"What?"
"What!"
Two voices sounded at the same time, one filled with doubt, the other with shock.
Lord Royce glanced strangely at Aegon, who looked as if he had seen a ghost: "What did you see? Tell me in detail, don't miss any specifics."
"The camp is two miles away, over a small snow slope, right next to a stream," Will replied. "The campfire has gone out, only a pile of embers is smoking. The Wildlings are lying around haphazardly nearby, I counted eight people in total, about the same as the original estimate, but I didn't see any children... Everyone was motionless, including one in a tree. I crept as close as I could and observed carefully for a long time. I didn't see any blood, but living people would never lie so quietly."
"Living people wouldn't let the campfire go out at all," Gared said. "The temperature has dropped sharply these past two days, maybe they weren't prepared and froze to death?"
"Perhaps," Will shivered cooperatively, "Lord, what do we do now?"
"If you're cold, put on more clothes." The young Royce exhaled. "When we set out nine days ago, The Wall was dripping water. This past week there's been some frost and occasional snow, but it's definitely not cold enough to freeze a group of Wildlings to death. What's more, they were wearing warm furs to keep out the cold, the terrain they were in was enough to shelter them from wind and snow, and they had a fire."
...
Listening to the discussion and conversation among the three Night's Watchmen, Aegon only felt the cold seeping into his bones inch by inch—how could this be? A thousand grass-mud horses galloped through his mind, and he secretly cursed the Royce family's ancestors eighteen generations back.
Even with the worst memory, this extremely déjà vu scene made him realize: he was facing the very beginning of the Ice and Fire story. This damned Waymar Royce, on his first patrol, was leading his brothers straight into the White Walkers. The only difference from the original was that this time, he was here too!
"Since the Wildlings are dead," Gared frowned and spoke with some unease, "let's go back."
"Are dead men frightening you?" Waymar turned back, a light, contemptuous smile on his face, continuing the lines Aegon seemed to have heard before.
"Dead men aren't scary," Aegon realized he couldn't remain silent and invisible any longer. He was now facing a matter of life and death: if he allowed Waymar Royce to lead the group to investigate the site where the Wildlings were slaughtered, they would run headfirst into the White Walkers. And he didn't think for a moment that the original lineup of three, plus himself, could deal with that terrifying existence that had almost wiped out humanity thousands of years ago: "What I'm afraid of is the thing that killed those Wildlings."
"Something that can kill Wildlings might not necessarily be able to kill Night's Watchmen," the young knight said confidently, though inwardly a little surprised. In his impression, Aegon rarely expressed opinions in public. "Besides, are you sure they're really dead? Where's the proof?"
"Will might not be a warrior, but he wouldn't lie. Since he saw it, I believe him." Gared looked at the others with a grim face. "The higher-ups ordered us to investigate the Wildlings' movements, and we did. Now they won't bother us anymore..."
"Do you think the Commander won't ask us the cause of death?" Waymar interrupted the veteran unceremoniously. "Mount up, take me to see."
Gared showed an indignant expression, but ultimately said nothing, turning to walk towards his horse.
"I'm not going." This time, Aegon couldn't just go with the flow. This was a moment of life and death. "Call me a coward if you like, or a scaredy-cat, I'm just terrified. For the past few days, I've felt something terrifying and malicious watching us from nearby... The Wildlings must have been killed by that thing, and we are no match for it."
"I have that feeling too," Will was always indecisive, but seeing someone take the lead, he quickly stammered his support for Aegon.
"It's getting dark," Gared looked at Aegon with some confusion. He could occasionally challenge this parachuted captain based on his seniority as a veteran, but where did this young man, who rarely conflicted with others in their shared room, get the nerve to openly disobey orders? "We can investigate tomorrow."
"Interesting, Night's Watchmen, afraid of the dark?" Waymar's expression twisted slightly. He was used to Gared contradicting him, but the fact that all three soldiers were opposing him with one voice for the first time completely triggered his rebellious streak: "My mind is made up. Now—mount up and go to the scene immediately. I won't say it a third time."
"No." Aegon intuitively felt that even if he spoke with silver tongue now, he would never be able to persuade the stubborn young knight before him. He made a desperate last stand. He looked at Gared, hoping to get support from the veteran Night's Watchman. Unfortunately, the other man looked back at him for a moment with confusion, then gently shook his head, signaling him not to argue with the officer. "I have a strong premonition that if we go this time, there's a high probability I will die."
"I don't believe your premonition," Waymar narrowed his eyes. "If you insist on not going, then run. But hand over your weapon before you leave, and you're not allowed to ride a horse. If you're confident you can run back, I won't stop you. Go on?"
Aegon met his gaze, watching the other man place his hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist. Their eyes locked for a moment, and ultimately, he bowed to reality.
Leaving would mean becoming a deserter, with no place left in Westeros. Furthermore, this place was a hundred miles from The Wall. Although the Ranger training included wilderness survival, theory and practice were two different things. Even if beasts and White Walkers didn't trouble him, hunger, cold, and getting lost would be enough to swallow up this small mortal. And resisting... even assuming Will and Gared stood by, with his limited combat experience, he would never be a match for this noble's son, who was a few years younger but had been trained by a family swordmaster since childhood.
He had no choice. It seemed he could only hope that the small preparations he had made to save his life would come in handy.
"Mount up. You and Will go in front." Aegon's capitulation made Waymar breathe a sigh of relief. He pursed his lips dismissively: "Don't think about any tricks. I'll be watching you the whole way from behind."
...
The four mounted their horses and set off. Will led the way with Aegon, both riding forward nervously and cautiously. There had been a light snowfall last night, and now beneath the thin, soft layer of snow were many rocks, roots, and puddles; a single mistake could make a horse stumble. Aegon suppressed the fear in his heart, one hand gripping the reins, the other reaching into his bag, fumbling for and grasping the Obsidian Dagger he had gone to great lengths to acquire.
***
obsidian, also known as Dragon Crystal, is called 'frozen fire' in Old Valyrian. This thing is actually a type of natural glass formed by geological activity... In the world Aegon originally came from, this thing naturally had nothing special about it, but he speculated: perhaps in this world where magic exists, this crystal has a special interaction with some unknown energy, giving it unique abilities.
The White Walkers had disappeared for thousands of years. This thing, said to be able to kill White Walkers, was usually sold on the market as an ordinary low-grade gem. Due to its fragility and dark color, it wasn't as popular as corundum-type gems—not precious, it naturally didn't sell for a good price, and thus few people did business in this area.
This led to: although obsidian was neither expensive nor rare, it wasn't easy to get your hands on it. Aegon spent a lot of time arranging for a fellow Night's Watch recruit from his training group, who was assigned to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, to buy it from overseas merchants trading with the Black Cloaks. It cost him several months' worth of allowance.
When he first got it, it was just a bar-shaped ore about the thickness of his forearm. Aegon spent several weeks of his training leisure time slowly carving and polishing it into a rough dagger shape, wrapping the lower half with cloth pieces, and keeping it by his side as an amulet.
For this thing, he couldn't even afford to add an extra dish to his meals for a long time, and was laughed at by his brothers around him for quite a while.
If this thing could ultimately save his life today, then at least these hard days of 'eating dirt' were worth it.
Everyone must die, some deaths heavier than Mount Tai, others lighter than a feather. Aegon wasn't a coward terrified to the point of madness, but he absolutely refused to accept: dying anonymously in an unnamed corner in the far north of this foreign world, bearing a name given to him by a few peasants, at the hands of something the world didn't believe existed.