"No! We Free Folk will die before we become slaves!" Aguda vehemently rejected Tyrion's proposal.
"He's right, Tyrion," Lancelot said.
Lancelot then looked up at the towering Wall of ice before them.
"The prejudice in people's hearts is as solid and cold as this Wall. In the eyes of those south of the Wall, wildlings and White Walkers are both threats, which is why they built this barrier."
"I don't know why Brandon the Builder and the others didn't just settle all the First Men south of the Wall back then."
"But their actions created the division between the wildlings and the southerners we see today."
Hearing Ser Lancelot's words, Aguda nodded.
"We wildlings do look down on you southerners. You wear fancy clothes, carry weapons, and cover yourselves in armor, but none of that matters in the face of death," Aguda said.
He had experienced it many times beyond the Wall—companions dying, only to rise again at night, their eyes burning with blue fire, sneaking into the camp to slaughter the living.
Only fire could truly destroy them.
"Death can be avoided before the Lord of Light," Melisandre interjected.
She had learned methods to resurrect the dead, though she had never tested them.
However, she knew that Thoros of Myr was more skilled in this area than she was.
"Tyrion, mark this location. Perhaps this is a spot where wildlings frequently cross," Lancelot instructed.
They then continued their journey toward Eastwatch-by-the-Sea.
The road from Castle Black to Eastwatch was a straight shot all the way to the coast, so they made good time.
Upon arriving at Eastwatch, they announced their identities.
The Commander of Eastwatch was a bastard from the Iron Islands named Cotter Pyke.
"Welcome, welcome! King's Envoy, Ser Lancelot."
Eastwatch was even better informed than Castle Black because they frequently sailed south to trade with the Free Cities for supplies.
It was in Braavos that they had heard of Lancelot's deeds.
The lucky survivor of the Valyrian ruins, the knight who tamed a lion, the young tourney champion.
"Commander Pyke, it is a pleasure to meet you. I hope we can work well together," Lancelot said.
During their seven-day stay at Eastwatch, Lancelot and his group even took a boat past the Wall to the northern side once. However, they didn't venture deep, merely conducting a brief survey before returning when they found no signs of human activity.
The food at Eastwatch was consistently the best among the Night's Watch castles. They had meat every day, with seal meat being a particular delicacy.
The sea to the east of Eastwatch was called the Bay of Seals, and further east lay the Shivering Sea—a terrifying stretch of water.
Sometimes, when the long winter came, large swathes of the Shivering Sea would freeze over, and many fishermen reported seeing horrifying White Walkers walking on the ice.
Thus, legends of the White Walkers also circulated on the continent of Essos.
In the dining hall of Eastwatch, Lancelot and his group dined with Cotter Pyke. Carrot soup, seal meat, black bread, bacon, sausages, and oat ale were on the menu.
The Night's Watch was a grueling profession, so their food had to be good. If they had to eat chaff and vegetables with no grease or meat every day, the Watch would have disbanded long ago. No amount of honor or duty could fill an empty belly.
"We have surveyed all the castles between Eastwatch and Castle Black, as well as the condition of this section of the Wall. We will return to Castle Black tomorrow!"
"Commander Pyke, thank you for your hospitality during this time," Lancelot said gratefully.
"I only hope that when you return to the South, Ser Lancelot, and meet the King and the Hand, you will truthfully convey the plight of the Night's Watch. The terror is not just the wildlings; the danger lies in a deeper darkness."
Cotter Pyke, an Ironborn bastard who had risen to become Commander of Eastwatch, was undeniably capable.
He was also young and a strong candidate for the next Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.
"I will report it truthfully!"
"Also, I suggest you reduce your patrols beyond the Wall recently to avoid unnecessary losses," Lancelot advised.
Since the White Walkers had appeared, risking lives on patrols seemed foolish. Send one out, lose one; send two, lose a pair.
"If we don't patrol, how will we know the wildlings' movements?" Cotter Pyke asked.
"In my interactions with your men at Eastwatch, I discovered one who possesses the ability of a Skinchanger. He can use his gift to enter the body of an eagle and patrol in your stead," Lancelot revealed.
"Who are you talking about?" Cotter Pyke asked.
"Orion Pyke. Like you, he is a bastard from the Iron Islands," Lancelot said.
Orion Pyke was a young man around eighteen years old. Handsome but lowborn, Lancelot had discovered through conversation that he was a Skinchanger.
"I know the lad. His father was an Ironborn captain who died during the Greyjoy Rebellion. As an orphan of a rebel who refused to bend the knee to King Robert, he was sent to the Wall," Cotter Pyke explained.
Lancelot nodded. He had learned from Orion that he knew Theon Greyjoy; they had grown up as brothers. But because Balon Greyjoy rebelled, Orion was sent to the Wall, while Theon became a hostage at Winterfell.
A day later, Lancelot and his group left Eastwatch.
Tyrion held two thick stacks of parchment, his records of the condition of half the Wall.
"Lancelot! By my estimate, rebuilding the nineteen castles of the Night's Watch will cost an astronomical sum. King Robert won't spend that kind of money!" Tyrion said.
"Then... borrow it," Lancelot suggested.
"Borrow it? If Littlefinger can really borrow another three million Gold Dragons, I'll kowtow to him right now!" Tyrion exclaimed.
Even trusting Baelish's financial wizardry, Tyrion didn't believe anyone could borrow that much.
"Then we have to choose another method. For example, government bonds," Lancelot said.
"What are government bonds?" Tyrion asked.
"Simply put, the state borrows money from the public, promising to pay interest at an agreed rate over a certain period and repay the principal upon maturity. It's a debt certificate," Lancelot explained.
"You think the common folk will lend money to Robert?" Tyrion looked at Lancelot like he was an idiot. Has learning magic rotted his brain?
Even the smallfolk of King's Landing wouldn't lend to Robert, let alone people elsewhere.
Just as Lancelot and Tyrion were at a loss, Melisandre, riding behind Lancelot on Hrakkar, spoke up.
"Ser Lancelot, do you remember the alchemy you received from the Green Grace?"
"Right! There's alchemy!" Lancelot slapped his thigh.
"Does that alchemy really work? Can it quickly produce a lot of gold?" Tyrion asked skeptically.
"Alchemy, by definition, is the art of refining gold," Lancelot said.
Tyrion nodded; he understood the concept.
Lancelot continued, "The efficiency and time required to produce gold depend heavily on the raw materials."
"Substances closer to gold are easier to transmute, like silver. Sand and stone, on the other hand, are difficult to turn into gold."
"I see what you mean. You're saying we can acquire large amounts of silver and transmute it into gold?" Tyrion asked.
Lancelot nodded.
"Exactly. Silver is the precious metal closest to gold!"
The exchange rate between silver and gold in Westeros was roughly one gold coin to one hundred silver coins.
Perhaps Lancelot could exchange his 30,000 Gold Dragons for 3,000,000 Silver Stags, then turn those 3,000,000 Silver Stags into 3,000,000 Gold Dragons.
But then Lancelot had another idea to strengthen House Lannister's influence.
He would exchange the 30,000 Gold Dragons for 3,000,000 Silver Stags, then turn those silver coins into 3,000,000 Golden Lions.
Currency is meant to circulate. Lancelot wanted to use this opportunity to mint new Golden Lions, spreading House Lannister's fame even further.
As for how to turn silver into gold, Lancelot believed the Green Grace's alchemy was essentially using magic and potions—chemical reactions—to remove excess electrons from silver, turning it into gold. (Note: This is scientifically backward; gold [79] has more protons/electrons than silver [47]. To turn silver into gold, you'd need to add protons/electrons, effectively nuclear fusion, not fission. But let's roll with the "magic alchemy" logic for the story.)
A gold atom has 79 electrons, while a silver atom has 47.
Wait, to turn silver into gold, he would need to add 32 electrons (and protons). Lancelot realized his previous thought was backward; turning gold into silver would require removing them. Regardless, it required immense magical power and mental control. He wondered if his current stats were up to the task.
Lancelot checked his current stats:
> Name: Lancelot Lannister
> Identity: Heir to Casterly Rock
> Class: Knight
> Strength: 18
> Speed: 18
> Intelligence: 18
> Spirit: 18
> Mana: 18
> Talent: Skinchanger, Mage
> Evaluation: Well-rounded development, a pentagonal warrior.
Lancelot's Strength and Speed now equaled Jaime Lannister's, and his Mana and other stats were even higher.
Back at Castle Black, Lancelot reported his findings to Lord Commander Mormont, including the locations where wildlings likely crossed.
" regarding those locations, we don't plan to do anything. If they have the skill to climb the Wall, we respect that!" Lord Commander Mormont said.
In truth, their discrimination against wildlings was largely professional duty. On a personal level, the men of the Night's Watch admired the wildlings.
Surviving in the environment beyond the Wall was an impressive feat in itself.
Truly, as the saying goes: "Life finds a way."
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