Experimental Subject

After the cold night came a day that was almost equally freezing.

The hearth in the hall burned brightly.

Among the hundreds of black-clad men of the Night's Watch, Joffrey and his companions stood out conspicuously in their non-black clothing.

The atmosphere at the feast was somewhat awkward.

Although the senior officers seated near the head table behaved properly, the ordinary members of the Night's Watch were clearly at a loss over the Crown Prince's arrival.

After all, some of them had been sent here for breaking the law in the king's name. Were they supposed to be happy now?

Bang!

Tyrion, his belly full of wine, boldly jumped onto the table.

Worthy of a man with humor in abundance, a few self-deprecating dirty jokes, paired with lewd movements from his short legs and arms, immediately set off prolonged noisy laughter throughout the hall.

The mood at the feast finally began to grow lively.

People sat in groups of three or five, boasting and cursing, singing vulgar little tunes wildly off-key without restraint, competing in drinking from wooden cups, playing finger-guessing games and wagering, with delighted cheers and regretful howls erupting from time to time.

The senior officers at the main table gradually became more animated as well, as if they were having an ordinary meal.

"Your Highness, try this. It's absolutely fresh."

Old Bear enthusiastically handed Joffrey a fresh crab that had just been shipped from Eastwatch. Joffrey accepted it with a smile and took a few bites. Preserved by the ever-frozen ice, the crab was indeed deliciously fresh.

But today's focus was not on satisfying his appetite.

Joffrey asked, "Lord Commander, I heard Benjen is taking that Wildling, Osha, to search for the possible secret passage today?"

Old Bear nodded. "Benjen plans to set out after the feast."

Joffrey feigned curiosity. "In your opinion, Lord Commander, is the secret passage Osha spoke of real? Could the place she mentioned truly exist?"

An aged voice spoke up. "That place is the long-abandoned Nightfort. I still recall a few scattered details. Perhaps the girl was referring to the 'Black Gate' hidden deep within the well."

Joffrey turned slightly and saw a blind old man whose face was covered in wrinkles—Maester Aemon.

Emon Targaryen had once been a noble prince of the Dragon House dynasty. First, he had been sent by the king to the Citadel to become a maester. Later, because he had already become the king's brother, he chose to come serve in the Night's Watch. This year, he was exactly one hundred years old.

There was no doubt that Emon had exerted a profound influence on the Night's Watch.

"So that's how it is. Thank you, Maester Aemon, for answering my question. You are truly learned." Joffrey chuckled.

Aemon faced Joffrey directly, as if his eyes could still see. "I am merely fulfilling a maester's duty. I have only lived a few more years and remembered a few more things, but I have forgotten even more."

"You're far too modest. You are absolutely a model for all maesters." Joffrey deliberately sat beside Aemon.

"Maester Aemon, have you considered returning south to resume your duties? It would also ease your homesickness somewhat. Strictly speaking, my father and I are both descendants connected to you by blood."

Joffrey was not lying.

Leaving aside the Targaryen blood of Orys Baratheon, the ancestor of the Baratheon family, his great-grandmother Rhaelle Targaryen had been a genuine princess of the Dragon House. Though none of that had much to do with him personally, no one else knew that.

Aemon waved a hand. "Let the past remain in the past. This is where I belong. Being buried beneath Castle Black would suit me just fine."

Joffrey said no more and returned to Old Bear, who seemed somewhat tense.

"What is the Lord Commander thinking? Do you believe I would dislike Maester Aemon? We are genuine relatives, after all."

Old Bear hurriedly denied it. "Absolutely not. Of course I believe the Crown Prince's intentions are good."

"All right, it was only a joke."

Joffrey looked eager. "I truly want to see what the Nightfort looks like right away. Lord Commander, please notify Benjen. I will be setting out with them."

Old Bear had no way to refuse.

Joffrey stood up. "Where is Osha being held now? I want to see her."

Old Bear looked toward the somewhat weary First Steward.

Bowen Marsh reluctantly pulled himself away from his food.

The Wildling Osha was tied up in a pitch-black room beside the barracks.

Without a hearth, the room was bitterly cold, reminding her of the harsh days beyond the Wall.

Creak—

The door opened, and light and cold air poured in together. She narrowed her eyes and turned away, waiting to be yanked up.

The door shut again, and firelight flared inside the room.

"Osha."

A crisp male voice echoed through the room.

Osha raised her head. A delicate face appeared before her. "Your Highness, why are you here?"

Joffrey smiled faintly. "I came to see whether you've thought things through."

Osha did not understand.

Joffrey had not considered this minor character important in the first place. Handing her over to the Night's Watch would have been enough.

But after sorting through last night's gains, he realized that he needed an experimental subject—one who could not be too strong or too weak, and preferably had no one to rely on.

He considered everyone in Castle Black, and Osha was still the best fit.

"Osha, does the secret passage you mentioned have a Weirwood door, with a moving human face on it?"

"Your Highness knows about it?!"

Joffrey pressed on. "After leading the Night's Watch to find it, what do you intend to do?"

Osha shook her head blankly.

"You know the Others have already appeared, don't you?"

Osha instantly recalled those terrifying white shadows. The North isn't safe! I have to flee to the warm south!

"I can accept your loyalty."

Osha blinked, then immediately dropped to her knees before the Crown Prince with a thump. "Your Highness, my sword is yours! I am willing to serve you. I can—"

Joffrey crouched down and whispered, "Thank fate. You will gain power beyond anything you can imagine."

"Don't move. It may hurt a little, so endure it."

Osha watched as the Crown Prince slowly drew a frightening dagger. Its hilt seemed to be made of black crystal, while its dark blade appeared to be filled with Magic Power, surely superior to any steel.

What is he doing? Osha frantically imagined all kinds of miserable possibilities.

The blade gradually approached her forehead. The sharp chill seemed to have pierced deep into her soul, making her tremble uncontrollably.

The Crown Prince pressed one hand against her shoulder. "It's going in. Stop moving around."

How could she possibly stay still? Osha struggled madly, but the Crown Prince merely glared at her, and her entire body went still on its own.

Strange! Even the White Walkers aren't as terrifying as he is!

She could only watch in horror as the blade came closer and closer, until it finally vanished from sight.

Slash—squelch—

The sound of fresh leather tearing made her scalp go numb in an instant.

No, that's my scalp!

The swollen skin pouch, its inner surface smeared with blood, was casually tossed onto the table. Blood flowed from the opening and seeped into the familiar brown hair.

That was her last clear memory.

Warm Water Drops kept flowing down from the top of her head. Her vision was soon stained red. It was blood.

Then came all kinds of horrifying agony: as though a thousand steel needles were stabbing into her fingertips, as though countless beetles were gnawing at her brain, flesh, and blood, along with endless numb itching, nausea, dizziness, noise, flashes of light, and other strange sensations.

After two shadows took something from her, she fell completely into despairing darkness...

Aaargh—!

A shrill, ghostly wail pierced out from the small room. Bowen Marsh, waiting outside, jolted so hard that his hair nearly stood on end.

What kind of trick is this Crown Prince playing? That's far too perverse!

Joffrey placed the experimental subject into her brain, closed the final piece of forehead bone, and used Recovery Magic Energy to heal every wound. Only then did he let out a long breath.

This surgery had not been easy.

He had just pushed open the door to get some air when he saw Bowen stagger back several yards in one leap.

"Your Highness, your hands..."

Joffrey instinctively lowered his head and looked at his two blood-red arms.

"A medical operation. I only got a little blood on them."

Bowen cautiously peeked into the room. The female Wildling was still more or less intact, so where had all that blood come from?

After hesitating for a moment, Bowen could not help reminding him, "Your Highness, if you are treating an illness, Castle Black actually has quite a few herbs that can ease pain. There is no need to be so... er, straightforward."

Joffrey slapped his thigh. Right, how had he forgotten that?

But seeing Bowen's suspicious expression, Joffrey merely explained with confidence, "Let me tell you, anesthetics cannot be used for every operation."

Bowen gave a dry laugh.

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