The Night's Watch Cannot Save the Seven Kingdoms

The Wall, a structure gifted with the name of a miracle, had stood for a thousand years.

Its western half stretched straight, like a gleaming blade cleaving the earth.

Its eastern half curved like a silver serpent, disappearing into the sea.

The Wall, together with the Night's Watch, guarded the northern gateway of the Seven Kingdoms, blocking the Wildlings and the legendary White Walkers.

Within Castle Black, which accompanied this icy wall, a middle-aged man with graying whiskers and an elderly man with white hair sat facing each other.

The middle-aged man was none other than Jeor Mormont, the current Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.

Hailing from Bear Island, he possessed a burly frame, and a pet raven perched upon his shoulder.

The old man sitting across from him was named Aemon, a surviving bloodline of the fallen Targaryen Dynasty.

He was so old that even the new king had forgotten him.

However, the old man was both aged and blind, his two eyes always staring vacantly upward, posing no threat to the new king's position.

Standing beside the two was a youth of sixteen or seventeen, waiting in attendance.

His body was somewhat portly, his belly nearly pressing against the edge of the table as he read a letter to the two men.

"

...Respected Maester Aemon, the moment I saw you, I felt a deep sense of kinship, as if I had met a relative I had never known.

I do not possess your level of resolve, perhaps because I have yet to take the vows of the Night's Watch.

As a son, I cannot ignore the news that my father has been framed...

"

More than a decade ago, when the Targaryen Dynasty was overthrown and its members slaughtered, Maester Aemon had been devastated, wishing to do something.

Yet, in the end, he decided to remain at the Wall, upholding the vows he had taken.

The somewhat chubby member of the Night's Watch read the letter in his hand while carefully observing the expressions of the two men.

Both of their expressions were grave.

His name was Sam, and he was a close friend of the letter's author.

Although his friend had indeed not taken the Night's Watch oath, in a Westeros that prized honor, such behavior was no different from desertion.

Once "caught," the chances of being beheaded were high.

Perhaps his status as the bastard son of the Lord of Winterfell could grant him some room for maneuver, but who could say?

"...Respected Lord Commander Mormont,

Although I have not been at the Wall for long, I can feel the attention and expectations you have placed upon me.

I do not wish to make excuses about not having sworn the oath to become a true member of the Night's Watch.

I promise that one day I will return to fulfill my duty.

--Jon Snow, a bastard from Winterfell.

"

Sam finished reading the signature and looked toward the two elders.

One was the Lord Commander, the man with the most authority on the Wall.

The other was the Maester of the Night's Watch, the most respected man on the Wall; their choices would determine the fate of his friend.

Life,

or death.

Lord Commander Mormont snorted coldly and spoke:

"I will have Alliser take men to drag that little bastard back! Send Qhorin as well."

Hearing Mormont's decision, Sam's heart turned cold, and his lips trembled.

He wanted to plead for his good friend, but he lacked the courage.

The Lord Commander's anger was justified; this man, whose words and expressions were always cold, had been grooming his friend as a successor.

Jon's "desertion" naturally infuriated him beyond measure.

Alliser was at odds with Jon daily, seizing every opportunity to humiliate him.

Qhorin was a Ranger of the Night's Watch, spending his days beyond the Wall, living among the brutal Wildlings.

If Jon were caught by them, he would likely lose half his life before even returning to the Wall.

Sam instinctively turned his head to look at the old Maester, hoping he might intercede for Jon.

Yet he dared not speak, and the old Maester could not see his frantic signals.

A moment later, the old Maester pursed his thin lips and spoke:

"I shall write a letter to Winterfell."

Sam's head exploded with a roar; this meant they had even cut off Jon's retreat.

Mormont did not speak, rising to leave.

Now, only Sam and the old Maester remained in the room.

"Maester Aemon..." Sam began weakly, only to be interrupted by the old man.

"Sam, just write that Jon has left the Night's Watch, and also deliver this letter he left behind to Winterfell."

The Kingsroad was first built during the Targaryen Dynasty.

Although it was called a road, many sections turned into a muddy mess whenever it rained.

But at the very least, it was a path that connected most parts of the Seven Kingdoms.

On this road, a somewhat dark and thin youth was riding a horse toward the south, white foam seeping from the corners of the horse's mouth.

Continuous galloping had pushed it to its limit.

Furthermore, a snow-white direwolf followed behind the youth.

He was Jon Snow, a deserter of the Night's Watch, though he was no longer the original Jon.

He knew that his father was actually his uncle, and his true father was the prince of the previous dynasty, Rhaegar.

And he was no bastard, either.

His true name was Aegon Targaryen.

But mentioning any of that now was completely useless.

According to the original storyline, Jon only hesitated about whether to head south to join the force avenging Eddard Stark after he had taken his vows to the Night's Watch.

As a transmigrator, he had made up his mind to head south, so he found an opportunity to leave a letter and slipped away.

Based on his understanding, as long as one did not take the vows, one could not be considered a true member of the Night's Watch.

At the very least, there was a moral loophole.

Subsequently, he chose his moment, leaving the Wall at night with a horse, prepared to support the "Young Wolf" who was about to raise an army to rescue his father.

However, "the current Jon" knew that Eddard Stark could not be saved, no matter what.

In a few months, he would die at the hands of King Joffrey.

Not to mention that the Westerlands army was already ravaging the Riverlands; without a single soldier, he could not possibly get through.

Therefore, Jon's current goal was to find a way for the Starks to emerge from this war unscathed.

According to the original storyline, the Young Wolf would perish due to a conspiracy.

But before that, the Young Wolf still had many winning moves.

Jon's minimum goal was to make Robb keep his pants on and retreat safely to the North; that way, with the strength of the entire North supporting the Night's Watch, the situation for the Night's Watch would not be so dire.

When the time came, two or three thousand troops would guard the hundred-foot-tall Wall.

As long as Daenerys didn't throw the game, Jon truly couldn't imagine how the Night King would get across.

Of course, if the Night King had other tricks, they would deal with that then; it was still far better than letting the pathetic handful of men at the Wall face an uncountable army of White Walkers.

"No matter what, the Night's Watch cannot save the Seven Kingdoms. To fight the White Walkers, I must participate in this Game of Thrones!"

Jon looked at the direwolf beside him and thought silently.

Just then, the direwolf Ghost suddenly pricked up his ears and looked back.

His scarlet eyes revealed vigilance.

Jon also felt that something was wrong, so he turned to look, only to see more than a dozen riders in black cloaks galloping rapidly toward him.

"They've come for me."

A bitter smile appeared on Jon's somewhat dark and thin face; the cold reality pulled him back from his fantasies.

He raised his riding crop to urge his exhausted warhorse.

This horse had been traveling for three days straight, eating nothing but weeds along the way.

And the cavalry behind him had two horses per man; catching up to him was only a matter of time.

With the surrounding terrain flat, if he wanted to shake off his pursuers... Jon turned his head to look around and found only one choice—the Wolfswood.

"Ghost! We're going into the woods!"

Receiving Jon's command, the direwolf, whose body length almost exceeded that of a grown man, turned into a white blur and dashed rapidly toward the Wolfswood.

Seeing Jon run toward the Wolfswood, the cavalry behind him accelerated to give chase.

"That little bastard!"

One of the rangers, who looked like an officer, gave the most ferocious pursuit.

It was as if he wasn't chasing a deserter of the Night's Watch, but rather a noble lady without her clothes.

His name was Alliser, the master-at-arms for the Night's Watch recruits.

Just as Sam feared, Alliser and Jon had never gotten along back at The Wall.

He loved giving people nicknames, such as dubbing Jon "Lord Jon" or "My Lord."

As a bastard, Jon had no claim to the title of lord or ser.

Such nicknames were clearly meant as mockery.

When Alliser learned that the Lord Commander had entrusted him with the task of capturing Jon, he was overjoyed.

He swore that once he caught Jon, he would humiliate him thoroughly.

Even if the boy were lucky enough to avoid the executioner's block, he would never be able to hold his head high again.

When the pursuing party reached the edge of the vast Wolfswood, Alliser turned to a man as silent as a stone wall and said:

"Ser Qhorin, why don't you take a few men and head ahead to block that boy?"

Qhorin tugged at his reins and spoke with a touch of cold indifference:

"No need."

With that, he spurred his horse and plunged into the woods.

Rangers were accustomed to working alone; traversing the vast lands Beyond the Wall was second nature to him, and catching someone in the Wolfswood was nothing.

Watching the ranger depart, Alliser's expression shifted, and he spoke without looking back:

"Dumb... Pyp, take your friend and go 'invite' our Lord Jon back.

If you fail to bring him back, his only remaining fate will be the axe."

As soon as he finished speaking, two young Night's Watch recruits rode out from the ranks.

The youth named Pyp was slight of build, while his companion was tall and broad.

Yet his stature gave him the air of a simpleton.

The big man was named Grenn, and because of his build, Alliser had given him the nickname "Dumb Ox."

He had used the nickname so often that he had even forgotten Grenn's real name.

The two said nothing, instead hurrying into the Wolfswood.

Alliser knew that as Jon's friends, and with his threats hanging over them, they would surely do their utmost to find him.

But to be safe, he sent another man to follow them.

Among the men he had brought were many recruits; he was not well-liked, and he intended to use Jon to establish his authority.

He turned to the men behind him and said:

"If we catch that deserter, it will be fine, but if we don't, you will all be on patrol duty for a month straight!"

The lands Beyond the Wall were cold enough, but The Wall itself was worse; at night, the wind atop the ramparts felt as if it would pierce right to the bone.

The Night's Watch usually took turns standing guard, and a month of continuous duty would surely leave a man with lasting ailments.

Hearing Alliser's words, most of the men shrank back in fear.

Of course, a small number of them had eyes filled with malice and resentment.

Yet, they all did as he commanded.

Alliser was of noble birth, and he knew exactly how to deal with runaway peasants and soldiers.

At a time like this, the best course of action was to blockade the area rather than chase him down.

He believed that there was no way Jon could escape.

And things were indeed developing in the direction he hoped.

The constant shouting in the Wolfswood startled the birds and beasts, sending them all into hiding.

"Jon! Come back with us!"

"Jon! Just come back! At least you won't be beheaded!"

"Go back, Jon! As long as you return, the Lord Commander won't kill you!"

"..."

In the woods, Jon listened to the voices calling for his surrender, the pressure in his heart slowly mounting.

His horse stumbled and collapsed to the ground, panting heavily.

Looking at the horse, which had pressed its head against the earth and closed its eyes, Jon sighed.

"I intended to save this for the battlefield, but it seems now is not the time for restraint."

As his will shifted, lines of multicolored text appeared before his eyes:

[Swordsmanship]: Blue

[Archery]: Green

[Horsemanship]: Green

[Gods' Eye]: Green

[Skinchanger]: Green

Remaining upgrade points: 1