"How many people dwell in Pentos?" Joffrey asked abruptly, turning to Tyrion who rode beside him upon a shaggy snow bear.
The dwarf gazed distantly at the Wall, a pale blue-white line smudged against the northern horizon. He wondered why the Crown Prince would think of a Free City across the Narrow Sea while they approached the edge of the world.
"Four or five hundred thousand within the walls, perhaps more," Tyrion answered after consideration. "With another million or two scattered through the surrounding countryside."
Joffrey nodded silently, but in his heart, he marveled at Alyn's significant achievement, understanding that Pentos was suffering a grievous calamity at this very moment.
He had witnessed the bloodbath in Pentos through his arts.
Though he had only acquired the runes for location, reconnaissance, and backtracking after Alyn set sail, and without preparing a proper medium in advance, he couldn't observe Alyn's every word and action. Yet there existed many objects connected to the city-state of Pentos that served as mediums: Pentoshi gold coins, bottles of amber wine, saffron packets, and dragon eggs, among others.
Using these mediums, he could employ the location rune to fix Pentos's position, then feed that information into the reconnaissance rune, allowing him to gaze upon Pentos from thousands of leagues away in the frozen North.
Since then, Joffrey had observed the situation in Pentos at regular intervals each day.
Last night's blood and fire had declared his victory as surely as any herald.
Daenerys and Viserys Targaryen would soon fall into his hands, Pentos had suffered a grievous blow that would take years to recover from, and relations between the Dothraki and the Free Cities would inevitably deteriorate, likely returning to their natural state of bitter opposition.
In such circumstances, would the Dothraki khalasars still risk crossing the Narrow Sea by ship, as the Spider had planned?
Varys and Illyrio's grand conspiracy had come to naught.
Without the Beggar King and Daenerys as shields and distractions, the boy they called Young Griff—the so-called "Little Aegon" whom they truly supported for restoration—had lost a vital ally and would find it nigh impossible to continue gathering strength silently on the continent of Essos.
What would the Spider's reaction be?
Joffrey knew that Varys would learn of Pentos's fate within days. When that happened, would the eunuch lurking in the Red Keep choose to flee... or to kill?
He chose to place his faith in Hanna's determination and the Lannister forces that remained in King's Landing. The gold of Casterly Rock purchased loyalty as surely as any vow.
"Your Highness," Benjen Stark spoke, breaking the prince's reverie. "We'll reach Castle Black before nightfall. It's the largest of the three remaining active fortresses among the nineteen castles along the Wall, and serves as headquarters for the Night's Watch."
Joffrey spared him a brief glance. "Now is not the time for such concerns. After I ascend the Iron Throne, I shall begin to improve the circumstances of the Night's Watch."
Benjen almost couldn't help but ask, "How long will that be?" but fortunately, the words died on his lips before they could escape.
Benjen was not alone in lamenting the decline of the Night's Watch. Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, old Maester Aemon who had seen a hundred namedays, and all the brothers who felt true kinship with the ancient order could only watch helplessly as their brotherhood withered day by day.
The Night's Watch had once been heralded as the shield that guards the realms of men, but now it was merely a ragtag force defending against wildling raids.
The Night's Watch had once stood as a symbol of honor and dedication, with many knights, nobles, and sons of good families volunteering to take the black, but now only criminals, bastards, and unwanted noble offspring were sent to serve their sentences upon the Wall.
The Night's Watch had once boasted tens of thousands of brothers, garrisoned in nineteen formidable fortresses, enough to resist all enemies from beyond, but now fewer than a thousand men guarded the hundreds of leagues of ice that was the Wall.
Benjen believed that the wildling woman had spoken truly of the secret passage.
Why should he doubt it? Thinking on it carefully, there were too many abandoned places along the Wall. What difference would one secret passage make?
He could send men to block this particular breach, but if the Night's Watch continued its decline, who would remain to guard the next secret passage discovered? And if things grew worse still, would the wildlings even need to sneak across the border at all?
Benjen watched Joffrey's straight back as the prince rode ahead.
Besides the North, the Crown Prince was the only figure of importance in the Seven Kingdoms who still seemed to believe in the value of the Night's Watch.
The scene of King Robert's sudden death unbidden flashed through his mind, and Benjen quickly shook his head, casting the treasonous thought far away.
Gods forgive me, he prayed silently. That was not my intention, absolutely not.
Benjen could not see what lay ahead, but a secret smile flitted across Joffrey's lips as if he had sensed the ranger's disloyal thoughts.
The time was midday, and the cold wind howled across the barren landscape, carrying the promise of snow.
The Wall grew larger and larger in their vision, higher and higher until it gradually consumed the entire horizon.
Sunlight fell directly upon the blue-white serpent that stretched across the northern edge of the world, and crystal-clear azure light seemed to flicker with the giant structure's breathing, as though it were alive.
Gods above and below, Tyrion thought with awe.
Its boundless body seemed to contain all the ice in the world, reaching from the frost-rimed Gorge in the west to the frozen fingers of the Bay of Seals in the east.
Tyrion rode in solemn silence. Having witnessed the existence of magic with his own mismatched eyes, how could he still doubt the greatness and mystery of the Wall?
Being able to hold back the Others, those terror-wrights of legend, the Wall must possess power beyond mortal comprehension.
The party drew closer.
They beheld Castle Black nestled at the foot of the Wall, but even though it was large enough to house thousands, it appeared as nothing more than an insignificant cluster of weathered stone beneath the towering barricade of ice.
More than a dozen men in black cloaks rode forth to greet them, their breath forming clouds in the frigid air.
"Your Highness," called a bald old man with a long gray beard, "all the brothers of the Night's Watch have been awaiting your arrival. It is a great honor for Castle Black to serve you."
Joffrey nodded with a gracious smile that did not reach his eyes.
Benjen Stark urged his mount forward and embraced the old man warmly. "Lord Commander, I've returned."
The Lord Commander clapped him hard on the back. "Benjen, you've finally come back to us. I've lost what little hair I had left waiting for you. The Wall truly cannot spare you for even a day."
Even the normally solemn Benjen showed the ghost of a smile. "Commander's hair was already long gone before I left. You can hardly blame that on me."
Laughter rippled through the assembled men, a rare sound at Castle Black.
Lord Commander Mormont greeted Yoren and the others in turn, exchanging warm words with each man of the Watch.
Joffrey listened to their conversation, gradually matching the names in his memory with the weathered faces before him.
Beside Mormont stood his steward, Eddison Tollett, called "Dolorous Edd" for his perpetual gloom;
The ruddy-faced fat man was the Night's Watch's First Steward, Bowen Marsh, who managed the day-to-day operations of the Watch;
The stern-looking man who seemed born without the capacity to smile was the Night's Watch's master-at-arms, Ser Alliser Thorne;
The man with the protruding chin and perpetual scowl was the First Builder, Othell Yarwyck;
The one-armed but powerful man with the imposing belly was Donal Noye. He had once served as blacksmith to House Baratheon, personally forging Robert's fearsome warhammer and Stannis's first sword.
The observation that "Robert is true steel, Stannis is pure iron, and Renly is copper, bright and pretty but not worth much in a fight" had come from Noye's lips.
Stannis certainly seemed like pure iron—unyielding and brittle. As for Renly...
Joffrey wanted desperately to believe the assessment of Renly's worth, but as long as the Lord of Storm's End drew breath, he would not underestimate so dangerous a rival. Pretty copper could still shine brightly enough to blind men to truth.
Lord Commander Mormont approached Joffrey once more.
"Your Highness, Castle Black has fallen into disrepair over the years. We have done our utmost to make the King's Tower suitable for your stay. I hope you will not find it wanting."
Joffrey waved a dismissive hand. "You have gone to too much trouble, Lord Commander. How could I possibly find fault?"
He adopted an expression of determination and addressed the assembled men of the Night's Watch in a carrying voice: "You are all valiant heroes of the realm. The Seven Kingdoms will not forget your sacrifices. I swear by my position as Crown Prince that the Night's Watch shall regain its former glory within a year or two of my reign!"
The crowd erupted in grateful cheers, though their eyes held the wary hope of men who had heard promises before.
Yet Joffrey knew in his heart that perhaps only Tyrion, Jon Snow who had seen little of the world beyond Winterfell, and to some extent Benjen and Yoren truly believed his grand words.
It mattered little. The ancient secrets of the Wall beckoned to him like a siren's call.
The royal party rode through the gates of Castle Black.
And there, amid the crumbling towers and wind-swept courtyards, Joffrey sensed it at last—the ancient, powerful, and sweet aura of old magic that permeated every ice crystal of the Wall.
I truly want it, he thought, his hunger growing. I shall have it all.
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