Hearing that Benjen had failed to secure aid from the king, the senior officers of the Night's Watch fell silent. A heavy gloom settled over the room.
Noticing the change in atmosphere, Benjen sighed. "It's not all bad news, though. I managed to get a shipment of food and winter clothes from Lord Jason of Starfire City, the man who's become quite famous in the North lately. With those supplies, our lives here should be a little easier for a while."
"Lord Jason may be a foreigner, but I have to say, the young Earl is as generous and kind as the stories say. A very good man."
"At least he, unlike our king, understands the importance of what the Night's Watch does for the North, and for all of Westeros," Benjen Stark finally grumbled, unable to hold back his frustration with the drunken king any longer.
The other officers in the room didn't seem to mind his complaint. The Night's Watch was an independent order, separate from the Seven Kingdoms and not beholden to any king or lord. If they couldn't rely on support from the rest of Westeros, then they wouldn't waste their time caring about the opinions of the high-and-mighty lords in the south.
Not even the king.
The Night's Watch had a pride forged over thousands of years. They had dedicated their lives to protecting the peace of Westeros, guarding the great Wall of Despair against the wildlings from the north. But now, aside from the northern lords, the nobles in the warm lands of the south showed them no gratitude. Instead, they looked down on them, calling them beggars in black.
The Old Bear sighed softly. "We are grateful for the young Earl's generosity and his support for the Watch."
"As for asking the king for aid," he continued, "we may have failed this time, but we can't give up. Perhaps we can find another way, through the queen. After all, her younger brother is visiting Castle Black as we speak..."
"We have to try, whether it works or not."
As he spoke, a worried expression crossed the Old Bear's face, his white beard doing little to hide his concern. "More patrols have gone missing beyond the Wall recently. We have no idea what's happening out there. My gut tells me something is very wrong in the lands to the north, and it worries me deeply..."
"I'll take the rangers out myself," Benjen said firmly. "We'll scout beyond the Wall and search for our missing brothers. If they're still alive... I pray they're alright."
In his heart, Benjen knew that any man of the Watch who went missing beyond the Wall was likely already dead.
The Old Bear nodded, agreeing to Benjen's request. "Be careful, Benjen. If things look wrong, return to the Wall at once. I have a bad feeling about this."
Benjen's lean face was grim. He nodded at the Lord Commander, then turned to leave and gather his rangers. They would head north of the Wall to investigate the next day.
Tyrion slept soundly through the night. The next morning, he joined the men of the Night's Watch for breakfast in the spacious common hall of Castle Black.
"To be able to climb this miraculous and desperate Wall is truly exciting," Tyrion announced to the senior officers at his table. He let his mismatched green and black eyes drift across their faces. "When I return to the south, I'll have quite a story to tell. It might even serve as good promotion for the Night's Watch!"
He raised a sausage on his fork. "I can't say if it will be useful, but if you want to get anything from the southern lords, you must first get their attention."
"To thank Commander Mormont and the brothers of the Night's Watch for your warm hospitality," Tyrion continued, a clever glint in his eye, "I will lobby those lords when I return. I'll see if I can convince them to provide some supplies to support your respected order." He finished his speech by raising his eyebrows and lifting his wine glass in a toast to the officers present.
Most of the officers merely glanced at him before returning to their breakfast.
Benjen Stark, who had yet to give any Lannister a kind look, seemed to soften his stony expression slightly upon hearing the queen's brother promise to lobby for the Watch's cause.
"Thank you, Lord Tyrion. That is exactly what the Night's Watch needs," the Old Bear said, his strong frame leaning forward. He reached for his wine glass and raised it toward Tyrion, the deep furrows in his brow relaxing a bit. With Tyrion Lannister's promise of aid, the Lord Commander was starting to form a good impression of the infamous Imp.
After the meal, Tyrion followed Castle Black's master-at-arms, Ser Alliser Thorne, to the wooden lift at the base of the Wall. It was the only way to ascend the 700-foot-high structure.
Tyrion and his two guards stepped into the lift. As it began its creaking ascent, they all made the mistake of looking down. The ground shrank away beneath them, and the faces of all three men turned pale.
The tall and imposing Ser Alliser Thorne glanced at the Lannisters with undisguised disgust. It was thanks to Tyrion's father, Lord Tywin, that Ser Alliser had been sent to the Night's Watch in the first place. During the final battle of the Usurper's Rebellion, Tywin Lannister had betrayed the Targaryens and sacked King's Landing. Ser Thorne, an officer loyal to the crown, was captured by Lannister soldiers. The new king, Robert Baratheon, had given the captured knights a choice: execution or a life sentence on the Wall.
It was no wonder Ser Alliser had no love for any Lannister.
The lift slammed into the wooden frame at the top, shaking violently and drawing a small scream from Tyrion's young guards.
Ser Thorne stepped out onto the rampart first, a mocking sneer on his face. "Come now, Lord Tyrion. This is the Wall you were so eager to climb. A full 700 feet high. I hope you aren't too frightened to walk."
Tyrion's face was pale. Standing in a swaying wooden cage at that height was terrifying. He wasn't afraid of heights, but that didn't mean he enjoyed them.
He looked up at Ser Thorne, who was clearly waiting for him to make a fool of himself. The man hadn't given him a single civil look since he'd arrived. Now, knowing the history between their families, Tyrion could only manage a bitter internal smile.
Gripping the wooden frame, Tyrion forced his short, bowed legs forward and finally stepped onto the top of the Wall.
"I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you, Ser Thorne," he said, his voice steady. "My legs may be short, but they are not made of jelly."
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