Chapter 73 - A Weighted Decision

125 AC

The twenty third day of the third moon

Harlon Pov

After a long and arduous journey, we had finally arrived at our destination – The Wall. It was a sight beyond imagination, a colossal structure that seemed to defy the very laws of nature. The Wall, a titanic barrier, stretched a staggering one hundred leagues in length, which equated to a mind-boggling three hundred miles. At its highest point, it reached over seven hundred feet into the sky, casting a shadow that darkened the land beneath.

This immense structure was more than just a wall; it was a formidable fortress of ice, a bulwark that spanned the northern border of the Seven Kingdoms. The Wall served as a formidable barrier, a guardian that separated the civilized realm from the untamed wilderness that lay beyond.

The Wall's sheer scale was awe-inspiring. It towered over the landscape, standing like an impenetrable monolith, a symbol of strength and endurance. The ice that composed it was a brilliant, gleaming white, a stark contrast to the rugged terrain around it. The icy surface glistened like a frozen wonderland, capturing the ethereal beauty of the North.

"Now I know why you wanted to come here, Ulf," I said, my eyes fixed on him as he mirrored my astonishment.

He merely smiled in response, but his grin sent a queasy twist through my stomach. The weight of the task assigned to me by the princess weighed heavily on my mind, its gravity impossible to escape. "When the time comes, the White Knight shall die," her words echoed in my memory. I couldn't forget them, and I felt the cool touch of the vial in my hand that contained the essence meant to end his life.

I couldn't help but wonder, "Why couldn't he have met his end in Winterfell?" At least there, he could have met his death with honor, surrounded by those who respected him. But what lay before me now was something far worse.

Here, in this place, there would be no honor in his death. It would be a clandestine and shadowed act, far removed from the honorable battles of Winterfell. My heart was heavy with the knowledge of the dark path I was about to tread, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding as the reality of my mission settled upon me.

As we drew closer to Castle Black, it became evident that this stronghold was unlike any traditional castle, for it had no walls to shield it from threats on the west, east, or south. It was an enclave surrounded only by the immense Wall that loomed to the north. The castle, if one could call it that, consisted of a collection of stone towers and timber keeps, giving it a rugged, practical appearance. Its stark simplicity stood as a testament to the harsh and unforgiving northern terrain.

As we approached the gates, the watchful eyes of the Night's Watch brothers fell upon us, assessing our presence and intentions. We were soon led into a building known as the Lord Commander's Tower, also referred to as the "Lord Commander's Keep," the place where the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch resided.

Upon our arrival, we were met by an imposing figure, an elderly man with weathered features. His once-brown hair had begun to fade with time, but his presence exuded strength and authority. He stood tall at an impressive six feet six inches, his gaze unwavering as he inspected us. Adorned in black robes, he wore a sturdy suit of armor that added to his formidable appearance.

"You are the White Knight," he declared, his voice resonating with a firmness that brooked no doubt.

"I am," Ulf replied, his tone filled with unwavering confidence.

The elderly man introduced himself, his words carrying the weight of his position. "I am Harrod Umber, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."

"Lord Cregan Stark sent word of your arrival through a raven," Lord Commander Harrod Umber informed us, revealing the network of communication that spanned these northern lands.

"Come to my solar; I have matters to discuss," he invited, signaling for us to follow him.

We found ourselves in the Lord Commander's solar, the weight of our purpose palpable in the room as we faced Lord Commander Harrod Umber. A heavy silence enveloped us until he finally broke it with a direct and searching question.

"Why have you come to the Wall, White Knight?" he asked, his eyes piercing as they bore into Ulf.

Ulf, ever the enigmatic figure, responded with a disarming smile, his words veiled in mystery. "Do you believe I came here for a singular reason?"

Lord Commander Harrod Umber was having none of it. "That's a load of horseshit, and you know it. No one willingly comes to the Wall unless they are compelled or possess some hidden purpose," he stated, his gaze narrowing.

Ulf didn't dispute the assertion. "You are absolutely right, Lord Commander Harrod."

His request, however, left us all intrigued and baffled. "I wish to visit the Nightfort," Ulf declared, and the Lord Commander's curiosity was mirrored in my puzzled expression.

"Why do you wish to go there? We abandoned it during the reign of the Old King," Lord Commander Harrod reminded us.

"I have my reasons, Lord Commander Harrod," Ulf replied, his tone leaving no room for further discussion.

Harrod continued cautiously, revealing his own motive. "I'm willing to dispatch some rangers to take you to the Nightfort, but..." He paused, letting the unspoken condition hang in the air.

"But what?" Ulf inquired.

"I won't do it out of the goodness of my heart. I want something in return," Lord Commander Harrod stated, emphasizing the pragmatism of the Night's Watch.

Ulf's words took a turn that could have easily led to offense. "Whoever said that the members of House Umber were oafs were wrong. It seems that you do have a certain low cunning."

Surprisingly, Lord Commander Harrod burst into hearty laughter. "You're right about that, Southerner."

And then came the stipulation, delivered with a sober tone. "I want you to write a letter to the man who knighted you, Prince Daemon Targaryen."

The terms were laid out clearly. "In that letter, I want you to convey the dire needs of the Night's Watch, our need for both good men and gold," he specified.

Ulf, ever the pragmatic diplomat, sought clarity. "Wasn't the New Gift enough for the Night's Watch to be self-sustained?"

Lord Commander Harrod's snort spoke volumes. "The smallfolk living there began to shift away ages ago, and the men of Night's Watch have dwindled as well."

He shared a poignant truth. "During Aegon's Conquest, there were ten thousand of us." The nostalgia in his voice was undeniable. "And now there are less than five thousand."

Ulf nodded solemnly, accepting the responsibility. "Very well, I will write to Prince Daemon and request aid for the Night's Watch."

Leaving the solar, my thoughts raced with the complexities of the journey that lay ahead. The goal Princess Rhaenrya had entrusted me with, to end Ulf's life, weighed heavily on my conscience. As my fingers softly clutched the vial of poison hidden beneath my cloak, I was acutely aware of the malevolent power it held, and the dreadful choice that loomed.

Outside the door, the stark, cold winds of the North bit into my flesh, reminding me of the harsh reality of this land. The decision I would make would define not just the fate of Ulf but also the course of my own life.

As I stood in solitude, a subtle melancholy etched across my face, the door to the solar creaked open. Ulf emerged, his pale lilac eyes locking onto mine. He did not know the burden I carried, the sinister task I had been assigned.

In the chill of the northern winds, we stood at a crossroads, bound by a destiny neither of us had chosen. The vial of poison, concealed in my trembling hand, seemed to pulse with an ominous heartbeat, a harbinger of the choice that I had made.