SovereignOfHeaven
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Chapter 77: Leading By Example
🕑 Added 2024-07-26 00:43:12 +0000 UTC[Jaime’s POV]
Bowen Marsh was not near hateful enough to misuse a knight of his talents, making Jaime Lannister a ranger rather than a steward or builder. He was the finest raider they had in their ranks, the best swordsman by far and knew just about as much about building as any fish knew about climbing trees. Stewardship was nearly just as terrible and dull. Jaime would’ve considered slipping on his sword a fonder fate than cooking meals, farming, making clothes, counting inventories and providing supplies to mostly poachers, thieves and rapists for the rest of his life.
Though, if his officers commanded it so, he went about his duty.
He would remain at Castle Black, voluntarily teaching new recruits and even more seasoned brothers how to wield a sword properly. He had never been one to train others - always honing his personal skill alone. He learned a little patience in dealing with inexperienced half-wits.
Not all men had been lawless criminals, Jaime admitted. Some were Targaryen loyalists, some were younger sons of lords seeking glory and honour elsewhere, and other men simply volunteered of their own will. Food and a sense of purpose were enough for some of them.
He had been assistant to Donal Noye on a couple afternoons, aiding the smith as per his duties. The blacksmith didn’t hide his distaste, but he didn’t turn him away. Bowen Marsh enjoyed giving Jaime menial tasks - that was of no debate. However, even though Jaime never took an interest in smithing, the old man was a curious fellow of great experience. A Baratheon man who forged Robert’s Warhammer, the same one that crushed his father’s head. The irony of it all was not lost on him.
He was so fond of metals that the blacksmith could describe men with them. One of those days, he spoke of the Baratheons, comparing Robert to true steel, Stannis to iron and Renly to copper. Given his sound reasoning, Jaime did not disagree.
Though, it made him wonder…
“What metal would you say Edric is?”
“Never met the boy.” Donal Noye kept hammering at his new sword. “That would be a question for you to answer, ser. Were you not the one to knight him?”
“He took after Renly in some ways, shiny and bright. Quick to smile.” Jaime mused, working the grindstone on a dull blade. “Though, he does not lack for strength. He has his father’s steel, as you’d say. The courage to face any foe, the daring to speak his mind and act as boldly as his heart wills. In some ways, he is blunt and sharp, stubborn in his ways, yet in others… it’s hard to say that the King is near the boy I rested my sword upon.”
Valyrian Steel mayhaps, Jaime thought to himself, magical and fatally sharp. However, Valyrian Steel is light, and Edric is anything but that.
“The shape of a metal may change, along with its colour and how it looks on the outside. It may be stronger, weaker, brighter or darker; it may even bend or break. Much can change with time.” Donal Noye said, looking at Jaime. “The metal will remain the same regardless.”
The metal will remain the same, Jaime mused.
“I don’t believe so.” Jaime Lannister said, shaking his head. “A boy can change as easy as the wind; so can a man if there is enough reason for it. I know that best of all - for I did not leave my mother’s womb as the Kingslayer. I need not die as him.”
“The Realm will not forget.” Donal Noye said, eyeing the knight. “Even though the black cloak washes you free of your crimes, no one will ever forget. The stain will remain long past your death.”
“I am not seeking the forgiveness of the Realm,” Jaime said, observing the sword he had sharpened. “I doubt I will ever have it, truth be told. It is a fruitless effort.”
“The black cloak did not dull your pride.”
“It’s not a matter of pride, smith.” Jaime Lannister smiled ever so slightly. “I could beg on my knees until my last breath, and it would never be enough. The best I can do now is make use of my sword here and hope that some song comes of it. An amusing song, doubtless. Shadow of Gold, The Kingslayer’s Last Oath, Lion in the Night... what do you think?”
“Do not forget your vows a third time.” Donal Noye said bluntly, almost scoffing at him. “The men of the Night’s Watch wear no crowns and win no glory. It is a duty without applause, recognition or songs. We die forgotten, our deeds dead in the snow. Only our black brothers remain to sing, and they too, pass on before long.”
Jaime did not disagree, knowing full well just how the Night’s Watch was viewed further down south.
“They do not make for great singers, either.” Jaime humoured himself, chuckling.
The Wall would gain a great surge of volunteers soon enough, all Lannister men. A good forty of them in total, a quarter knights and the rest men at arms. These men had not only fought against the royal army, but they also fought for it in the invasion of the Iron Islands. It would not be wrong to say that they were more battle-ready than most of the Night’s Watch, who had only fought small groups of wildlings at the most.
As they entered, Jaime Lannister unofficially became an officer in all but name... for these men would surely not deny any command of his.
I am not lost to my brother; after all, Jaime smiled as he watched the men enter Castle Black. Some faces were ones that he recognised.
Bowen Marsh and the remaining officers at Castle Black have been deeply suspicious of him ever since, though Jaime did not act any differently. The men would take the black before long and bolster the forces at Castle Black, which had been weakened due to the disastrous Great Ranging. It was said that a great host of wights - dead men living - had killed many a black brother. After that, unsurprisingly, there was a mutiny, and only a few loyalists managed to return.
Jaime Lannister found the idea of wights being more than stories to frighten children quite... sinister. It only strengthened the possibility of the Others being true as well - and what more could lay beyond? What dangers had men before him experienced yet never lived to tell?
In some ways, it gladdened the Lannister. His sword wouldn’t be wasted on wildlings alone. Mayhaps he could find some glory here.
...
“Lord Stark is marching north with a great host of fifteen thousand as we speak.” Bowen Marsha said, rallying all of the fighting men at Castle Black. This included Jaime Lannister. “However, the wildling threat is already upon us. We shall take west, where they are looking for an easy way to get over the Wall. We won’t give them that pleasure.”
If all of the fighting men go west, it leaves Castle Black defended by the sickly and old.
“I do not believe that to be wise.” Jaime Lannister spoke out his thoughts. “The force heading west has to be bait for their true host to attack the Wall without any resistance. If all of the fighting men go west, there will be no one to guard Castle Black and the Wall-”
“You think yourself clever, Kingslayer?” Bowen Marsh raised an eyebrow. “Mance is not half so cunning to think of feinting us. He’s a wildling now, doubtless to say he attacks like them too.”
“We are giving up our advantage to feed theirs.” Jaime Lannister countered. “Castle Black can’t be left defended by the old, crippled and weak.”
“And it won’t be, Kingslayer.” Bowen Marsh looked confident. “If you were listening rather than dreaming of your sister’s dead cunt, you’d have heard that Lord Stark is riding north.”
Jaime Lannister felt the urge to draw his sword and gut Bowen Marsh, where he stood for the insult. No one could stop him; he was sure of it. He would be hanged or executed in some other way - but it would not be much of a price to pay.
His life is not worth mine own, Jaime thought, staying his blade.
“If it is a feint, as you say, Lord Stark will reinforce Castle Black and crush any wildling force that might trouble the Wall. Until then... we must ensure that no part of it is breached by wildlings.”
“Do as you will.” Jaime Lannister scoffed, shrugging his shoulders. “If your Stark is late and the Wall is overrun, the North will just have thousands of wildlings running about - pillaging and raping as they please.”
“Your voice is of little importance, lest you forget.” Bowen Marsh intended to remind him. “You are no Kingsguard, no heir to Casterly Rock, no Lannister, no officer... just a ranger. You’ll do as you’re told and no more.”
An upjumped steward who should have no hand in leading men to war, Jaime thought. His place is in counting coppers, spoons and forks.
“A knight.” Jaime reminded the castellan, knowing that Bowen Marsh had never had the honour. “Few men have that honour in this lot, I believe. It ought to mean something.”
“You are the furthest thing from a knight. Need I remind you of your honour?”
“I am reminded of it each time you speak the title Kingslayer. Yet, do you forget how I became Kingslayer for a second time?” Jaime questioned. “I gave Robert Baratheon his second and final defeat. I fought and led in the Greyjoy’s Rebellion before even that. Out of all of the men who remain, I am the most fit to lead the Watch in this war.”
“Hahahahaha.” Bowen Marsh broke into laughter, supported by a good number of his brothers. “You, lead? I’d sooner grow dragon wings and fly before the Night’s Watch acknowledges you as the voice of highest authority.”
“I thought that all crimes are forgiven once a man takes the black.” Jaime Lannister remarked. “Yet, I am still held up by my past deeds. Alas... do as you will, Lord Steward. Give the wildlings precisely what they want.”
“Heh.” Bowen Marsh scoffed, looking down on him. “Now that you’re done wasting precious time, we can set off and ride west. Or... are you too craven? Is that why you are so set on Castle Black - to hide in it?”
Jaime Lannister did not answer that, deciding his actions would speak for him.
~
The wildlings baited Bowen Marsh with several small raiding parties, leading him further and further west. Jaime Lannister gave no further advice, simply doing as he was told. They chased the wildlings to the Shadow Tower and beyond, into the Gorge.
Hundreds of wildlings had gathered there, seeking to pass the Bridge of Skulls. The Night’s Watch outnumbered them by at least a hundred, however. Jaime would lead the charge, carving a bloodied path through the poorly armed wildlings. He was not one to lack for courage... not in the least. He did not value his life at all, which, alongside his physical strength, speed, and skill with the sword, made for a frightening combination.
Battle... for the first time in a long time, he felt alive.
He’d parry one wildling, tossing his axe to the side, and open his gut with one swift stab - his blood flowing out like a broken dam. Another would angrily attack from his left, swinging a giant axe. Jaime would step to the side and effortlessly slash open his neck with a swift counter.
Another came - Jaime grabbed his assailant’s armed hand and twisted it. The man screamed in pain while Jaime turned him around and stabbed into his back. Afterwards, he shoved his bleeding body to the ground.
The wildlings were nothing more than cattle waiting to be slain, no matter how many came at him.
He considered himself the best swordsman alive... and no one on that field was proving him wrong.
His brothers rallied behind his valiant charge, all of the scorn of the ‘Kingslayer’ washing away in the heat of battle. At this moment, he was their leader. The Lion leading them to victory.
In time, he came across a tall, strong and strange wildling with a steel scythe who had killed a dozen black brothers. Jaime Lannister believed him to be the leader of this pack of wildlings, making his way through the wildlings and towards him.
“Golden crow... come face me!”
He shares my thoughts, Jaime grinned slightly. That awful weapon will do you no favours against me, wildling.
The wild man swung his giant and impractical scythe, but Jaime deflected its long edge and dashed towards him. The man would step back - trying to distance himself - but he was too slow. Jaime was like a flash of lightning, his sword chopping off the man’s right hand and the left. The scythe clattered to the ground.
Afterwards, he slashed open his chest, carved open his neck and gave him one final penetrating stab for good measure.
With the man Jaime later realised to be the famed ‘Weeping Man’ fallen, the warband of wildlings collapsed and retreated.
Death has escaped me, Jaime thought as he cleaned his bloodied blade and sheathed it.
...
The battle had been won, and not long after, riders came with word that Castle Black was preparing for an attack from the south by a band of wildlings that had scaled the Wall. In the worst case, they would be attacked from north and south at the same time. Jaime Lannister had the most shit-eating grin you could imagine as he looked at the silent Bowen Marsh. He was overflowing with the energy of ‘I told you so’.
“We ride for Castle Black at once!”
