The best techniques are passed down by the survivors. - The official motto of The Black Army as a whole.
No man ever won a war by dying for his country, he won it by making the other guy die for his country. - The official motto of Westerosi regular Infantry.
Obstacles exist to be overcome. - The official Motto of Westerosi Pikebreakers.
Death from above. - The official motto of Westerosi Ranged units.
The Lancers dies, they do not surrender. - The official motto of Westerosi light Cavalry.
We came, We saw, We conquered. - The official motto of Westerosi heavy cavalry.
Here and there and everywhere, stealth and cunning beyond compare. - The official motto of Westerosi Rangers and scouts.
Beneath the Dragon, you shall conquer. - The official motto of The Red Navy.
The greatest under the heavens. - The official motto of the Order of the Black Dragon.
We are the punishment of the Gods. If you had not committed great sins, the Gods would not have sent a punishment like us upon you. - The official motto of Westerosi Dragonriders.
Come hell or high water, the mail must go through. - The official motto of His Highness mail couriers.
Harder, better, faster, stronger. - The official motto of The Westerosi Games.
Justice does not expire. - The official motto of The department of Law and justice, and all it's Branches.
All for Westeros. - The official Motto of the Kingdom of Westeros.
Mottos of Westeros in the year in the year 60.
---
The "courtyard" of Icemark was doing it's regular business when a dragon landed right in the middle of it without any warning or forward of the Royal arrival.
It was quite the sight indeed, Steward Edmure mused as he watched from above as his brothers welcomed the dragon king with bows and courtesies.
It had truly been a long time since a king visited Icemark, some 400 years or so since one of the Brandon Starks had done a west to east journey along the wall. This was a new form of king, however. The king of all Westeros(well, except Dorne, but who counted them?), and supreme head of all the lands guarded by the wall.
Did that make him their king as well? It was a question that the king's letters to Commander Storm had reraised, after being dormant for quite a while.
Aegon had never cared much about the wall, or it's defenders, having left the institution to its own during his reign.
While the black brothers could never fight on the king's behalf, they would have been fools not to take into account that all the land they took their recruits from was now under the banner of one man.
Aegon had given them leave to take all the common prisoners they could find in his lands(A task made much easier by a stable peace) as recruits but had done little else to help the watch.
And with the king's peace, the number of total recruits had decreased sharply.
It was a huge problem. One which the man below had promised to rectify.
"Not exactly how I pictured the son of Aegon."
Young Duncan eyed the king with what was clearly a disappointed look.
"He gets it from his mother. Rhaenyra wasn't exactly a warrior woman. Not like Visenya was." Ser Lyonel piped in. "The difference between him and Maegor is like that of a wolf and a direwolf. It's all in the breeding stock."
Duncan turned to look at Lyonel, head cooked.
"You're talking as if their father didn't pass down anything to them."
Lyonel chuckled.
"Well, according to the rumors, he didn't. They say Aenys was actually fathered by one of Rhaeny's court favorites, while Visenya fathered Maegor with Black and dark sorcery."
"Truly?" Duncan asked, sounded genuinely curious.
"No," Lyonel replied, like a cold stone wall. "It's all fucking nonsense, the kind of shitty gossip people at court make up because reality is mundane. The simple fact of the matter is that not everyone takes after their father. Hell, if I did that, I would have golden curly locks, instead of my glorious red mane."
Said "mane", was as short as it could possibly be without him just being bald.
"I would recommend neither of you two brings it up in conversation with his grace. I don't think he would take kindly to having his parentage questioned."
Lyonel snorted. "I'm not bloody simpleton. I cannot speak for others though. Mayhaps Duncan would be brave enough to ask him on the matter?"
As usual, the smaller man got annoyed and they began another argument.
He tuned them out and instead watched the king, as he was hushed inside the wall by their commander, leaving his dragon resting in the middle of the yard.
Aenys had a curious look on his face as he inspected the castle, and the wall behind.
---
Icemark was not a particularly impressive castle. It was a decent administrative center, though. As a fortress, though, it was garbage. No outer wall to actually defend against attack.
Its yard was just an open field, nothing special. The actual buildings of the fortress were of considerably good quality though. If I didn't know any better I might think it was a thriving castle town, kept in good shape by its populace.
I knew better though. This was a penal military colony, and the men who kept it in shape were soldiers bound by an oath whose breaking meant death.
They were bound by duty and fear, not by any love for the realms of men. At least the parts not composed of Northmen anyway.
That said, despite the gloom Stark had told me, I saw no signs of decline which would eventually claim this order in canon.
The Night's Watch might be in decline, but it wasn't too far removed from the era where it was strong. Well over 5000 men held the wall, and they held it strongly. For now.
As we were ushered inside by my guard of black brothers, I saw more proof that the order was strong. All men here wore black chainmail, and at the very least carried a dirk in their belt. Ranger, builder and steward alike. Good.
They were prepared for actual combat. Which was good, because if I had my way, their order would become far more proactive in the near future.
"I apologize for the shabby accommodations your grace. We do not have many comforts here at the wall I'm afraid, but I shall see what I can do for food."
"If I wanted comfort, I would have stayed at Winterfell." Or remained at White Harbor. Or the Iron islands. Or anywhere south of the neck.
"As for food, your chefs can take their time, for now, I am much more interested in chatting with you about the state of the wall and its defenders."
"Of course. Edwyn, Pie, show his grace to my quarters. I shall join you shortly."
He split off to go to what I presumed was the kitchen, while we kept following two black brothers.
"So, your name is Pie is it?"
The man, Pie blushed so furiously, I could even see it from the side.
"It's… Actually, it's Hot Pie."
I actually burst out laughing. Kinda cruel of me, but it was what it was.
"You wouldn't happen to be from King's Landing would you Hot Pie?"
"No your grace, I'm White Harbor Born and breed."
Truly? How bloody common name was Hot Pie? Did all pie chefs name their sons with the name?
Hmmm. Add how often each name is used on the surveys I was gonna carry out in the future. I was curious about which name would be the most popular in each region. The only place I knew was the North where one-third of the men I had meet were named Brandon.
"So, how did you two come to be Black brothers?" I asked, wanting to just keep the conversation going.
"I… I ended up on a ship to Eastwatch, and once here, I had no place to earn my trade. It was winter you see, so it was either the watch or dying in the cold."
Made sense. "And you Edwyn?"
"Killed my wife and the man she was sleeping with."
Well, that got dark pretty fast.
Apparently not sensing that I did not want to continue the conversation, Edmyn continued.
"Used to work as a hedge knight ye see, down in the stormlands. Got myself set up with a small lordling as a household knight, got meself a wife and all was good in the world. Until that Bard came."
The tone that set in when he began talking off said bard reminded me as nothing as much as Maegor when he got angry.
"Anyhow, long story cut short, I put a hammer through both their heads. After that, it was either the same for me or the wall. I wasted away in the castle dungeon for half a year before I finally went North with a recruiter, but I got here eventually."
A silence set in until a short while later we reached our destination.
"Here we are your grace," Edmyn said as he opened the door. "Make yerself at home."
The commander's office was what I expected it to be, just with some curiosities added in.
For one thing, there were 4 giant skulls on a table by the wall. Quite the sight, and I inspected it like I was a tourist in a museum.
For all that the giants apparently looked like giant ape-men, these skulls really did look like oversized human skulls, just without canines. It was a reminder that in the truly distant past, humans and giants had presumably come from the same origin. Just like the brindledmen and the men of Ibben, and even the singers, once upon a time, we all came from the same origin. The fact we could all breed together proved that much.
"So Humfrey, what do you think of the wall so far? It living up to your expectations?"
The knight, looking up on the wall studying a mammoth horn turned to me.
"It's…. Immense your grace. Cold as the seven hells though." He visibly shivered.
"It's spring, it shouldn't be this cold."
"You should be thankful we're not doing an expedition beyond the wall. There it's even colder than this, all the time."
Truth be told, the cold didn't bother me. Actually scratch that. Not bother me would imply I noticed it at all. And I didn't. Ever since I had stepped down from quicksilver, I had felt… Great. Fantastic, amazing.
It was a feeling I could not remember Aenys ever feeling in his life. Like I at top of the world and full of energy, the power of youthful energy surging through my bones. It was a feeling I hadn't felt since my youth, back in the '70s when I had roamed the streets of Amsterdam like a hooligan at night.
God knows why I felt like this, but I had no doubt about why I felt like it. It was the wall, it had to be. I recalled what melisandre had said about it. It strengthened one's own magic when you were here.
One of the hinges of the world.
Was this how all those of the dragons blood felt at the wall? Well, Jon hadn't felt like this, I knew that much, but then again, he wasn't a product of direct inbreeding.
Other than him, the only targ I knew visited the wall was Brynden rivers and maester Aemon.
Brynden I had no idea how he felt but Aemon… Well I didn't know how he felt, but I knew he had lived to an extraordinary age in relative health, then immediately declined in health the moment he left it.
Had he been strengthened by the wall the way I was?
I was pulled out of my musings by Humfrey.
"Strange that Quicksilver refused to cross the wall. Queer that was, with how violent she was about it."
"Aye, she can see clearer than the maesters, that's for sure."
"What? Where… Why bring the maesters? What possible connection would they have to this."
"Elementary my dear Humfrey. The Maesters have, does and undoubtedly forever will downplay the idea of horrors lurking beyond the wall. They do not understand the threat this construct was created to guard against, and as such they try to downplay it, to pretend it doesn't exist, or if it ever did, it's gone now, never to threaten us again."
"You disagree."
"One does not create something like the wall unless one is certain that the threat it's meant to guard against might come again one day. And it did. And we shall discuss that topic further. At the Nightfort."
"So we're really going there. To the Nightfort."
"Yes."
To the knight's credit, he did not beg or argue.
"Back to Quicksilver's reaction, however."
"Given how she refused to cross, despite being the most obedient dragon alive, and with such violent refusal, there are two possibilities. The first is that she cannot cross, that the magical spells woven into the ice, which also prevents it from collapsing under its own massive weight, is physically keeping her from flying across it."
"This is possible, but I find it unlikely. If this was the case, then one would expect birds to not be able to cross it either, which isn't the case."
"The second possibility is that she feels a threat from beyond the wall, an existential threat against her life, one she absolutely refuses to cross. I find that possibility much more likely."
"So… what, you think Quicksilver can feel… Others?"
"Yep. She is a magical creature after all, and this place, it's construction, it's purpose, and our enemy, are all steeped in magic."
There we were interrupted by Tywin walking in.
"Apologies for the delay your grace."
"It's fine. Now then, we can get to business." I sat down in a chair I took from one corner of the room and plumped it down in front of the Commander's desk.
"I want an update of how heavily Icemark is in need of more men. I have been told all the castles are in decline numbers vise."
"Well, you shall need to talk to the Lord commander for a full overview of all our problems, but needless to say, the watch is in need of men. Here at Icemark though, we aren't as hard-pressed as elsewhere. Compared to the Nightfort, we're pretty well off. We're 623 men total, only about 70 men below what we're supposed to have."
Ah yes, only nearing 6/7th of total strength, with no ability to easily recover losses. It wasn't hard to see how this organization was going to fall off a cliff.
"How many men below their standard does the nightfort have?"
"Um… Well, you should keep in mind, the nightfort is built to house far more soldiers than us, so…"
"Answer the question."
"350. Out of a total garrison of 1200."
Yeah, that was more like what I expected.
"Troubling. But about what I expected. In any case, I should probably tell you about my plans to rectify this decline. As well as my other plans to strengthen the watch."
"Firstly, I'm going to be at war in the near future. With several of the free cities, most notably Braavos. I intend to send every single non-noble prisoner of war to the wall, to become black brothers."
"You want to strengthen us with thousands of Braavosi?"
"Them, as well as others. It's not the best solution, but it is what it is. I do not think it likely we'll see a massive Westerosi war to allow a similar number of recruits. Either way, that is only the start of it. I am also creating a more… Permanent host in preparation for this war."
"Once the war itself is done, my new soldiers will be put to use in other ways. Patrolling roads, guarding our borders south and so on. One of those tasks will be to reinforce the watch. Do not misunderstand though. These will not be black brothers, bound to the wall. They are merely soldiers whose assignment will help guard the wall, make punitive expeditions into the land beyond the wall, make sure the eastern recruits don't cause trouble and so on."
"I'll also begin constructing a number of fortress on either side of the wall, to make it much harder for raiders to cross the water into the north."
"That… is mighty generous of you."
"As you say. Finally, there is equipment. Thanks to a number of revolutionary devices, the production of steel in all its forms are currently increasing drastically, as well as making steel much cheap. I am planning on making sure that eventually, all my soldiers will have full plated steel."
"That, however, will not be practical for the watch as every single plated suit will need to be tailored to each man. Something only possible once they have been remade by training and lost all unnecessary fat. For obvious reasons, going through all that for each watchman isn't practical, so we'll have to aim lower."
"One breastplate for each man, along with a helmet and greaves. That should complement your mail well enough."
Tywin stared at me in disbelief.
"Truly?... A steel breastplate for every single man?"
"Yes. Unlike the more complicated pieces of plate, you should be able to reuse breastplates for new men. Thus it would be relatively cheap"
"Also, there are crossbows. I have invented a small, easy to use device called a goat hoof lever. It makes crossbows not only much easier to cook, but also increases their draw weight, allowing for far more powerful arrows, with less training. Once I have equipped my army with enough of them, I will be sending them north by the thousands."
"Also, since the wildings do not use true armor, I will be supplying the watch with bolts that does not rot. Obsidian tipped I think."
---
After leaving behind Icemark and making sure my words were sent to all the corners of the wall, we had once again taken flight. Towards our true destination. The original capital of the wall. The most haunted castle in Westeros.
The Nightfort.
Truth be told, I had planned to go here first to begin with, then to Castle Black, but I had gone wrong with estimations, and ended up at icemark instead.
I had given one second try to cross the wall on Quicksilver, but I had proven as fruitful as my first one.
There would be no cleansing the lands beyond the wall free of life of any kind. That would have been the simplest way to cripple the others before they came. Destroy their supply of mooks.
Alas, I would need more conventional tactics.
This time, we actually were greeted by. A welcoming committee. Not every brother was there, which wasn't a shock given I had said in my letter i would only stop for an hour or two.
As we stepped from the dragon once more, 5 Brothers were there to meet us.
"Your grace." The man I assumed was commander Eddard Bolton said.
"Welcome to our haunted hell on earth."
---
Bolton was the creepiest human being Humfrey had ever meet in his life. That was if he actually was one, the way he looked so completely without any emotion, he looked as if he was a block of ice that had taken on human form, what with his blank face and piercing blue eyes.
When he looked at Humfrey, he had felt as if the man saw through his armor, his clothing, and even his skin. All the old tales of the cruelest house in Westeros had come back to him. Redarm Royce who plunged his arm into his victim's guts, Eddard the maneater who ate the flesh of dead Andals, and Jon the Blood King, the most insane and bloodthirsty king to ever rule in the North.
The old stories of flags of human skin hung on poles came to his mind unbidden. Did Bolton want to skin him, and his king? This was the place where the rat king had been cursed according to legend after all.
And then there was the fact that Bolton wasn't even the worst of it. There was the nightfort itself too.
Oh gods in heaven, the Nightfort.
This… This wasn't a place. It was… It was as if a graveyard had become alive, and taken the shape of a "Castle".
Everything here was wrong. The shadows were wrong, long and thick despite the sun overhead. The corners of the buildings seemed to stretch farther than they should, and turns… he could not describe it. The turns just didn't add up.
Then also something in the air. Something WRONG. Something that hated, something that wanted him out.
"Cheerful place." Aenys commented dryly. The king walked with confidence as steel and an utter lack any fear marring his features.
"It comes and goes," Bolton said in his quiet yet somehow deafening way. As if everything around became silent when he spoke.
"It waxes and it wanes. Sometimes this is a regular castle. Sometimes it's a just shadow at the corner of one's eyes. Sometimes you hear poor old Danny sing her songs in the night."
Bolton pointed towards a building.
"That's where they murdered her. It has been rebuilt many times since then, but that is where she died."
"You seem rather sure of that."
"Yes."
Aenys did not reply. Instead, he looked around curiously.
"Where is everyone? I knew the Nightfort was undermanned, but there should be more than maybe 10 men outside here."
"The rangers are almost all out on errands, either ranging beyond our wall, hunting for food or patrolling our wall. Our builders are elsewhere, as not much is need of repair at the moment, and our stewards are all keeping to themselves in their buildings."
"Is it always like this here? It seems like a shitty way to keep a settlement going."
"As I said your grace, it waxes and wanes. Right now, it is very bad, and it will get worse yet before it gets better I think."
"How long does these" Waxings" last?"
"Some half decades or so generally. It began this time 4 years ago. It is not a cheerful phase, and this last year it has gotten far worse than usual. I know not why. No one does."
"How…" Humfrey desperately tried to not have his voice break. "How bad was it when-"
"When Mad Axe one day decided to butcher hundreds of his brothers in the night?"
Bolton turned to look at him. Then he smiled. An inhuman smile that seemed more at place on a death mask.
"Much worse than it is now ser Mummer."
"People speak of Mad Axe as if he was the last of the great atrocities that happened here. But he was not. 300 ago, the men of this castle went mad, and a grudge between them and Snowgate lead to open war, and gruesome butchery. They went as mad as all the rest of us poor sods who get stationed here. Even if they aren't remembered as such."
"And that is just the poor sod's history remembers. Every year, some black brother kills himself here. Whether it is a bad year or it is not. So far this year, I've had 8. Men simply go mad spending decades here. Old men or young men. Men who got sent here because no other castle needed them, men who displeased the lord commander in a way that a simple lashing is not enough for."
"It makes no matter. All men go mad if they have to spend the rest of their lives here. The truly unfortunate live long enough to go blind."
Humfrey went cold. He had heard more than one tale of what Bolton spoke off. Hell, he had performed this very story many, many times. The last time had been for some children in seagard, nearly 30 years gone. He had laughed about it. A silly little tale of an old hero of legend.
There was nothing funny about it here, where it had happened.
"Hellwolves," Aenys said flatly. "The blind actually see hellwolves here?"
"So they say. I know not, for I am not blind. What I can say, is that I have yet to see any brother who lost his eyesight, not choose to end it all."
"You know, when I asked Tywin to update me on the Walls current situation, you would have thought he'd have mentioned something about how this place was."
"It is generally considered a taboo thing discuss here at the wall. Speak of ill omens and they shall appear and all that."
"Anyhow. We're here."
He blinked. They had reached the entrance to the main hall. He turned around. That… That was an awfully long time they had spend crossing 150 yards.
How long had they been walking for?
---
"Well your grace. Here it is. What you wanted to see."
What Aenys had wanted to see was an old kitchen with a well inside it.
The chefs had hastily bowed and vacated the place when they entered.
It was a regular kitchen from Humfrey could see. What he could feel, however, was foreboding. Not the dread he felt in the courtyard, but something telling him that something was coming. Soon. He had his hand on his sword, ready to draw it at any notice.
Aenys took a torch down from the wall, then began inspecting corners of the room.
"Not quite how I expected it."
"What did your grace expect exactly? It's a kitchen with a well."
The king went over to the well, then bent down inspecting… Wait, there were stairwells in the well? The hell?
"Ah, yes, the stairs. Tell me, has anyone gone down here in recent memory?"
"No," Bolton replied simply. "I wasn't even aware there were stairs in it before your grace asked me to find this room."
"Yeah, that was about what I expected." He rose to his feet.
"Now come along."
Then, without warning, or signal, Aenys Targaryen descended the steps.
He ignored them shouting after him and simply continued down, down into the depths of hell.
Humfrey swore. A fight between his oaths and his sanity briefly took battle in his mind. Honor won.
"Come on you bastards!" He proclaimed as he descended after his king. "If Aenys dies down there, all your heads will roll."
----
"How did you know?" One of the random black brothers extras asked in a tone of awe.
In front of us, stood that which my entire journey north had been for.
The black gate. Which was white. Because of course, it was.
"I read about it in a book of course. You know how it is, it's the young who go out and explore the world, but it's only when an old fat man with a beard writes it down in a tome somewhere, that it's remembered."
The gate was pretty much exactly as it had been in the books. A face of pale white weirwood, older than recorded history, and it was glowing a pale white like it was the ghost of a tree.
"Not that this is not interesting your grace, but… What is thing exactly? You were clearly expecting to find it down here. Do you know what it is?"
"What it is, Bolton, is a magical gate or door leading to a tunnel that goes under the wall and into the lands beyond. When you get close enough, it will ask you a question. Namely, it will ask," Who are you?".
"If a man of the Night's Watch who has said his oaths answers, "I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers. I am the shield that guards the realms of men.", then the gate will open and let one pass."
"Okayyy…. That's interesting, but…. Don't we already have a way through the wall?"
"Yes. But suppose that one has to close the tunnels one day. It would be nice to still be able to cross the wall, without weakening our defenses. There also the other question."
"We have the answer to the question of what. Now the question of why arises. Why was this built? Who built it? How was it forgotten? How did it's get its name?"
"And it's called what exactly?"
"The black gate."
A moment of silence arose.
"But… But it's white. It's actually glowing white."
"Yes, it's a confusing name. I have a theory though. I think this was the original way the first black brothers used to cross the wall. It would make sense. This was the original headquarter of the wall. They would have needed some way to get through in the age before iron bars."
That would explain who made it and why. Leaving the others questions. How did it get its name and why was it forgotten?"
"I think I'm starting to see where you're going with this."
"Well, it's not too hard to guess. We all know what happened here. The original sin, that made this place into a thin place. Where men go mad, and demons stalk the night."
"I would bet quite a bit, that when Brandon Stark, 13th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch brought his Other queen to the wall, he used this entrance. And when he sacrificed children to the others, he did so through this gate. A gate wiped from memory, just like Brandon's name. The Black Gate."
Silence arose in the underground cavern.
Finally, it was broken by one of the black brothers.
"No one knows who he was your grace, might be he wasn't a stark."
Ah, that good old northern Stark loyalty.
"No, he was a Stark. Brother of the man who brought him low. But worry not ser. History will not repeat itself. I am here after all.
---
Though Aenys did not possess a bureaucracy capable of governing law and justice in every single city in the Kingdom, he understood that all cities needed a force exclusively dedicated to upholding law and order, investigating crimes, and dealing with smugglers, thieves and other ner do wells.
As such, he stipulated in each of his charters(as well as forcing it on the already existing cities.) that each new city would establish a policing force to uphold law, order, and justice.
However, in these charters, he also added that the crown would create an organization whose only job was to deal with corruption in these policing forces, as well as corrupt judges.
This organization would become the Order of Tarquin. As per their charter, they possessed immense power to discipline each and every police organization Westeros has ever had, and they would remain a fixture long after all the various police organizations would be centralized in the act of Unification of Law and order in 79.
They and their black, red striped cloaks were and are one of the most feared organizations in Westeros. At least amongst its police districts.
When writing their charter, Aenys stated, quite accurately, that police organizations could not be trusted to police themselves, and would always let abuses of power, minor corruption and bribes and so on, go unanswered due to familial bond between friends and coworkers.
The order of Tarquin was thus established to uphold the integrity the police themselves would not.
The order is famous for its harsh discipline and ruthlessness, but none can argue against success. Armed with the power to arrest, hang, fire and replace as they see fit, the order has more than once completely replaced a city police that doesn't work.
The most extreme of the powers the order is the right of decimation, granted by Aenys the second. The right of decimation is a seldom implemented procedure, in which city police is not only incompetent or corrupt but so connected to the criminal underworld that to fix the situation requires the permanent removal of all policemen in the district.
The right requires approval from the king himself and has only been used 7 times in Westerosi history. After approval is granted, The Tarquin is empowered to either banish or kill every single member of the police force as he sees fit.
The first right of Decimation took place in 87, at the city of Lannisport, where Tarquin Duncan famously cut the heads of 6498 law officers in one day.
Extract from "Law and Order in Westeros Volume 1." By Arya Von Beartrap.