The Warg Lord (ASOIAF)(SI)

[LazyWizard]

<A few years later>

It was the hour of the wolf, said to be the darkest part of the night, a time when you wouldn't even be able to see your fingers. The moon, waxing and waning, cast an eerie glow upon the ocean, illuminating the waves with a silver light. A lone ship drifted across the expanse of the Sunset Sea, the Sea West of Westeros, without a care in the world.

And why would they care? Since the crew of the ship had little to fear at night since the only obstacles they could run into out here would be the occasional storms which didn't seem to be a possibility considering the calm weather and open sea stretching out before them.

The darkness of the night made it impossible to see anything beyond the ship's wooden planks which meant it was almost impossible for a night attack to happen as there was no way to find the location of any ships at nighttime and any potential pursuer could be easily scouted from far away during the day so no ships were ever afraid any kind of night attack.

And since they were quite a bit away from the coast there was no need to pay any special attention to reefs and rocks so the captain only left about three people on the lookout while the rest of the crew slept peacefully with the gentle rocking of the ship.

Now, different cultures in Westeros followed different rules for sailing at night. For ex: if you asked any Riverlander they would tell you that it was stupidity to sail at night. As they were mostly accustomed to travelling through rivers, they had a habit of mooring their ships to the coast at night so that they can rest on land and not have to worry about damaging their ships on rocks and reefs.

Same with the fleets of Reach and Westerlands, they too do not prefer to travel at night and sail their ships hugging the coast while travelling from Port to Port. And if for some reason they are too far away from the coast, they lower their sails and anchor themselves at sunset hoping to not drift too far away from their path when the sun rises.

The exceptions to this case are the Ironborns, they are so skilled at seafaring and navigating through the knowledge of the Stars and Constellation which had been passed from their ancestors. That they only need a handful of their crew awake at night to make sure that their ships are going in the right direction given the winds are in their favour.

One of the main reasons they are known for their speed is their ability to travel at night. Albeit at half the speed compared to the day since they still lower their sails halfway through so as to not move too fast.

Now the ship mentioned earlier cleared every checkpoint that you would associate with the Ironborn. They were sailing even though it was night and even though the seas were at their calmest there were about three people
on board that were on the lookout and of course, they displayed no coat of arms on their sails which in these parts most probably meant Ironborn.

Suddenly, a ship appeared on the horizon, its resemblance to the previous ship strikingly uncanny. The vessel glided through the water noiselessly, its approach masked by the cover of darkness. Out of sight of the single torch on board the Ironborn ships, it came to a halt.

The Ironborn ships had only one torch burning as a safety measure, as fire was a constant threat to the vessel. The limited space on the ship also meant that stocking too much wood was impractical, and they could not afford to waste valuable space that could be used for more essential and expensive items. Therefore, unless it was necessary, they refrained from lighting more than one fire aboard the ship at night.

The eerie silence was soon broken by the sound of smaller rowboats being lowered from the new ship. Each boat was manned by about five lightly armoured men and women carrying various weapons. One last boat was lowered but this one only had a single man.

Jon signalled to the other four boats to gather around him, and he whispered softly, "There are three lookouts, two asleep and one barely awake. I'll take them out, but be ready in case anything goes wrong. And you," Jon suddenly turned and pointed towards the tallest man on his right, "I don't want a repeat of last time so don't shout before you attack this time otherwise I'll feed you to Dacey's Orca,"

The man sheepishly rubbed the back of his head while the rest snickered softly, one of the women snorted and said, "As if Cory would ever his fat ass,"

The tension among the northerners on this excursion dissipated slightly. It was a mixed group of men and women, each armed with a different weapon, but the daggers they carried on their hips would probably be the only ones seeing action that night. Jon nodded toward them one last time before he silently rowed his boat toward the target ship.

"How does he manage to take out the lookout every time?" the sheepish man asked Jon's second-in-command, Dacey, in a hushed voice.

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," Dacey quipped nonchalantly, straining to catch a glimpse of Jon who had already reached the ship.

Jon had been blessed with good fortune in the past few years. He had hit puberty early, giving him a height that was not lacking at all lacking among the people of Bear Island. Years of systematic exercise and a careful diet had ensured a powerful set of muscles that were primed for speed, agility, and surprising strength. His genes were also in his favour - he inherited his prince of a father's good looks and his mother's wild beauty, enhancing
his natural charm and confidence.

As a result, Jon exuded an aura of charisma that was hard to ignore. He commanded attention effortlessly, whether here on the ship or in a social gathering. His confidence and natural leadership qualities were evident to all those around him, earning him the respect and admiration of his peers. The last few years had indeed been kind to Jon, and he had made the most of his blessings to become the best version of himself.

Jon calmly put down the oars and, taking his Weirwood bow in his hands, stood up in a balanced position. He knocked an arrow and raised his bow at a 70° angle, appearing to aim blindly from afar. The base of the boat he was on was much lower than the ship, making it impossible for him to see anyone on it, let alone shoot them. Fortunately, the darkness of the night concealed Jon's actions from the people in the rowboats, who would have had many questions otherwise.

Taking a deep breath, Jon made some final adjustments to the bow's angle with his quiver just a few inches away. At that moment, his mind was not completely in his body. About one-fourth of it was in Frost, who was circling high above in the night sky.

Using Frost's perspective, Jon was able to see through two different viewpoints simultaneously. It was an incredible feeling as if he was playing a game from both first- and third-person perspectives at the same time, and his mind processed the information seamlessly. The third-person perspective, viewed through Frost's eyes, provided an incredible amount of zoom and depth, allowing Jon to see fine details with ease.

He had never stopped working on his archery skills and it had taken months and months of practice with Frost for him to be able to pull off the shot that he was about to do. A shot that would be impossible for anyone else but him.

The three people on the lookout were not all on the same side, two figures were perched on the right side, with one barely awake and trying to count the stars to pass the time while the other snored loudly. On the left, a drunk figure had long fallen asleep.

The scene on the deck was eerie and quiet, save for the sound of waves gently lapping against the ship's hull and the occasional creaking of the wooden boards. The only sailor awake felt the salty sea spray on his face, and the cool breeze that blew across the deck left a chill on his skin.

"Ah! Shit! I forgot the count again," he grumbled to himself and was just about to start from the beginning when he noticed a small dot in front of the moon that gradually grew larger. With a sudden realization, he widened his
eyes but it was too late as an arrow pierced his eye, killing him instantly. His body fell to the deck with a soft thump, waking up his nearby friend who met a similar fate as he too was killed by an arrow through his eye.

The last person on the lookout didn't even get the courtesy as he died in his sleep. The Drowned would soon have a very confused sailor on his hands.

Jon's movements were swift and precise as he sprang into action. Without wasting a moment, he grabbed a rope with a hook attached to it and swung it a few times before flinging it. The hook would have made a loud sound normally but it didn't this time since Jon threw the hook just above him, and Frost darted through the air, effortlessly grabbing the hook and sticking it to the ship before flicking away. The whole process took less than a
second, and they did it with the ease of seasoned professionals.

With the hook secured, Jon wasted no time in starting his ascent. Despite carrying a bow, a quiver, a sword, and four ropes tied around his chest, Jon climbed with agility and silence, reaching the ship in mere seconds.

Upon reaching the target ship, Jon quickly began attaching the other ropes he was carrying to the ship, securing their hooks with the same deftness as before. Once he finished, he made his way to the ship's only source of light and carefully removed the torch from its stand. He shook it in the air according to a specific pattern for a few seconds before replacing it.

Back on the rowboats, Dacey immediately caught Jon's signal, "Let's go," she said, taking charge of her boat and leading the others toward the side of the ship where the ropes were.

As the boats aligned in a straight line with a rope just above them, the northerners began to climb with skill and precision. Two people remained behind to look after the boats while the rest made their way onto the ship.

As the last person climbed aboard, Jon emerged from his resting place, standing tall and taking charge. "We're in luck," he said after closing his eyes briefly, "There are about 25 people on board, excluding the three that just died, and every one of them is asleep."

Addressing Dacey directly, he continued, "I want you to take 10 warriors and head to the common area on the lower deck. You'll find 15 people sleeping on hammocks - take them out," Dacey nodded and immediately moved toward the door, ready to carry out Jon's orders.

"The rest of you will be going to the rooms on the upper deck," Jon instructed the remaining team members. "The doors are already opened from the inside, so you shouldn't have any problems." With a nod of understanding, the team members moved inside without asking a single question, leaving Jon behind to keep watch.


Jon wasn't alone for long as he looked down to find his new friend who had arrived from inside the deck. It quickly climbed his legs and scurried up his waist to Jon's shoulder. He patted it gently with a smile and said, "Good job, Gan. You're getting better at opening doors," Jon said, as he walked towards the ship's deck and he squeaked excitedly in response.

Gan was a small mouse that he had befriended recently on one of his excursions, to assist him in his endeavours and he was a really feisty and intelligent mouse, capable of doing many things that a normal mouse couldn't.

The small mouse suddenly started to chirp and squeak with its whiskers quivering furiously, "What! Frost was ruff with you again," Jon asked, his brow furrowing as he listened to Gan complain to him about how when Frost brought him to this ship to scout she wasn't gentle with him at all and even squeezed him tightly and how he almost died when she threw on board.

Jon looked up at the dark night sky where Frost was slowly circling and even though it wasn't possible for a human eye to see the sky, he was able to see as Frost haughtily turned her heady away at his reproaching gaze.
Frost was always indignant when he made her do something as mundane as being a Chauffeur for his mouse, Gan, an animal that she wouldn't even consider eating for a snack.

Knowing that it was a losing game, Jon turned back to Gan and said in a soothing voice, "Sorry, Gan. I'll try and reason with her so that she's more gentle with you next time and as an apology, I'll treat you to the feast of cheese when we get back, Alright," and Gan immediately started squeaking in delight at the suggestion.

About 15 minutes later as Jon was feeding his mouse he saw his team of Northerners coming out of the door which meant that the fighting or rather the slaughter have been completed, some of them had blood on them while the others were looking clean.

"Looks like it was an easy one, eh?" Jon asked and Dacey nodded with a proud smile before she turned and whistled loudly. The ship that bought them here got the signal and started approaching them for the rest of the crew to join them.

"Well then! Let's if the bastards looted something before we looted them," Jon smirked before moving inside.
...

A few hours later, Jon was holed up in the Captain's quarters, poring over a diary in search of clues as to which Ironborn house the ship they had just looted belonged to. Since almost all of their so-called nobles had a fleet or
two of their own be it a small one or a big one. This was a familiar ritual for him, as he had made a habit of reading through the Captain's logbook after each successful raid.

Even though most Ironborn were illiterate, there had to be at least one person on the crew who could read and write whether he be the captain or the first mate since it was he who needed to keep track of the number of days they'd been sailing or when was last time they stocked on food or how many days till they reach the next port and stuff like that. He needed to keep track of every single day as it passes by if he doesn't want to end up in the
middle of nowhere without any food or water.

As he read through the diary, an interesting piece of information caught his attention. It appeared that the Ironborn crew had originally consisted of three ships, but they had recently raided a few vessels from the Reach.
However, their targets had fought back more fiercely than expected, resulting in the loss of almost half of their crew and two of their ships sinking.

Suddenly the door creaked as Dacey entered the room with a serious look on her face and said, "We found people down there,"

"And..." Jon asked calmly, "You know what to do. Just get someone to care for them until we reach the next port and then we'll leave them with enough gold so that they can take a trip home wherever that is,"

Even though it was disgusting, Jon had gotten used to this by now, since their targets Ironborn, had a habit of bringing back Women as the so-called Salt wives and Men as thralls when they return home. And since Dacey's Orca Cory, their scout, only picks up ships that are returning to the Iron Islands they almost always have the displeasure of seeing up close the cruelty of the Ironborn.

"Since this one's a little special," Dacey said with a shrug, "I thought you'll want to know,"

"What is it," Jon said, finally looking up from the Diary toward Dacey in curiosity, "Are they a noble or something?"

"Yes, she's a young girl," Dacey nodded, "From the Reach,"

"Which Noble?"

"Apparently she's a Tyrell,"

"What? A Tyrell!" Jon exclaimed, his heart skipping a beat.

He tried to recall if there was any mention of a Tyrell girl being kidnapped in the original timeline, but his mind drew a blank. and the only Tyrell girl he knew of in the original timeline was the most famous one and he hoped with all his might that it wasn't her because if it was then it would mean that he had derailed from the Cannon a lot more than he expected.

 

[LazyWizard]

Dacey led Jon down the spiralling stairs into the dank depths where the Ironborn imprisoned their captives. The oppressive humidity and putrid stench in the air were enough to quash anyone's appetite. If there was one thing you could always count on finding aboard an Ironborn ship, it was a prison for their thralls.

Over the past few years, Jon had painstakingly assembled a special crew from scratch handpicking skilled and trusted warriors from Winterfell, Bear Island, and a few neighbouring holdings. All of them underwent rigorous training in a nearby secret place to excel in sneak attacks and naval combat. And as they gathered experience they have become somewhat of an expert in hunting down Ironborn vessels to bolster Bear Island's fleet.

Hardly a month went by without their successful pursuit and capture of one or two ships and of course, most of the credit went to their scout Cory, Dacey's orca. So while the years had been very helpful in boosting Bear Island's nonexistent fleet, hunting Ironborn also had a very repulsive side effect.

The whole crew got to see first-hand all kinds of atrocities committed by the Ironborn against their thrall prisoners and so-called Salt wives. And after the first few times, Jon had learned to suppress his disgust, though he avoided the prison whenever possible. Seeing those atrocities was also one of the reasons Jon's crew never hesitated in completely massacring any Ironborn crew they come across.

"It is right down here..." Dacey said as she lowered her head due to the low ceiling and entered the gloomy prison, with Jon following closely behind.

As Jon descended, he caught sight of one of his men, Harold, standing guard outside a grimy, wet wooden prison divided into three cells. Currently, only one of the cells held two girls—an older one, dressed as a maid, who regarded him with vigilance and fear in her eyes, and a younger girl who clung to the older girl in fear as they entered.

The sight of the place and the knowledge that it likely held numerous female prisoners was too disheartening for Jon but he had accepted long ago that he was in a place where things like these were happening all around the world every single hour.

Jon was relieved to realize that his initial assumption was incorrect—the younger girl couldn't be Margaery since she appeared closer in age to Sansa.

Dacey noticed him standing there, observing the captives and offered an explanation. "The older girl serves as a maid in their household. It seems she shielded the Tyrell girl and convinced the Ironborn scum that they could
fetch a higher ransom from the Reach if she remained 'unspoiled,'" Dacey concluded, her face contorted in disgust.

Jon nodded before he suddenly turned toward the massive Man who was standing beside the door with a sad look in his eyes and asked in a teasing tone, "Why didn't you unlock the door, Harry? Afraid of a little girl, are you?" He was trying to ease the mood a little.

"Of course not," Harry retorted immediately. He was Harold, a former fisherman from Bear Island, and also the one who Jon had warned last night not to shout before attacking. He was somewhat of a comic relief for the group Jon had created even though he was one of his most fierce warriors, he was also a little stupid so they always made fun of him.

"I think, Jon, he's still bothered by that story you shared by the fire a few nights ago," Dacey whispered loudly, grinning. "You know, the one about the House of Black and White and how they send young ones as assassins.
He probably thinks the little girl is some kind of assassin."

"N-No! I didn't mean—I mean—Ugh," Harold stumbled over his words, flustered by their teasing. With Jon and Dacey snickering at him, he hastily excused himself, "I'll go check on... some things," and made his way back up the stairs. Jon heard a small snort of amusement coming from the prison, and when he looked, he saw a pair of eyes peering at him from the maid's protective embrace.

"Well then..." Jon said, waving his hand toward the prison. It was a signal for Dacey to open the door, but she remained motionless, causing Jon to look at her quizzically.

"What? Don't give me that look," Dacey shrugged. "I don't have the key. Do you think I searched every person I killed?"

"Ahem... Anyway, let's consider our options," Jon dismissed the awkwardness, resting his chin in his hand as he pondered. "If I'm correct, the keys should likely be with the person killed closest to here, and the bodies shouldn't have been disposed of yet—"

Dacey rolled her eyes and strode toward the door. Taking her mace from her waist, she smashed the lock in a single strike, causing the maid to gasp in surprise.

"—Or you can do that," Jon finished with a weak smile as Dacey smirked at him. Shaking his head, he addressed the maid, "Come on. Let's go somewhere cleaner and brighter than here, and we'll get you something to eat."


...
It all began with that cursed Starkhorse.

Tara could still recall that day vividly, as clear as the flowing waters of the Mander. Little Lady Margery had been to the market at the bustling port for a normal excursion, she was browsing through the goods that the merchants bought to Highgarden when she overheard a merchant from Lannisport gushing about a marvellous invention known as the Starkhorse

Like the child she was, Margery approached the merchant and bombarded him with questions. Learning that it was a wooden horse suitable for riders of all ages, even little girls like her, she was overjoyed as she had been having difficulties riding a horse and was very envious of her brother Loras who was a natural.

Immediately, she expressed her desire to purchase one, but her excitement was dashed when the merchant explained that only a limited number of Starkhorses were available in Lannisport, his hometown and that they were a speciality primarily made in the North so it was difficult to get a hand on them as the few people who had them weren't very keen on selling them.

But Lady Margery, it seems was adamant this time so the moment she went back to Highgarder she immediately threw a rare tantrum at her father and Lord Mace, bless him, was in polite words, a pushover and immediately agreed with his daughter's request without giving it much thought.

So two ships were arranged to be sent toward Lannisport immediately so that they could buy the Starkhorse thingy his daughter wanted. Little Alla, Margery's friend and aspiring lady-in-waiting, who had longed for travel, accompanied her. Tara, Lady Alerie's maid, joined them as well.

And as for the reason they didn't even think of sailing straight to North to buy these Starkhorses, where they were made, was an obvious one, 'Ironborn'.

Any ships that wanted to sail from Reach, Dorne or Lannisport to the North had to go through the chain of Islands where every single Noble family had fleets of ships that they liberally used to pirate, even though at the moment they didn't do it too openly due to the recent war.

And the journey by road from Reach to the North would be long and arduous and more importantly incredibly expensive. It was also one of the reasons there was no trade between these kingdoms. So they only had one
option from the beginning.

And for a few days, everything was fine, the weather was good, the winds were in their favour and they were making good time for Lannisport but it was then that they ironically encountered three Ironborn ships, the very
thing they were avoiding.

Out of nowhere, just before sunset one day, the Ironborn descended upon them. The Ironborn were known across the world for their speed so the captain of the ship knew escape was futile. Gambling on battle, he hoped to defy the odds, but alas, they lost that wager.

Every single warrior present on their ships fought valiantly to their last breath and Ironborn who hadn't been expecting such resistance incurred huge losses both in people and ships. It was also probably the reason they slaughtered every single person without taking any thralls in their anger.

Tara and little Alla were the only survivors, having hidden themselves during the onslaught. Yet luck was not entirely on their side and they were found out soon after the fight was over. Fortunately(Or Unfortunately) for Tara, the Captain found her pretty enough to consider taking her as a salt wife and little Alla was spared because of Tara's urging him about her prize as a ransom as she had tricked him into believing that she was the daughter of
Lord Mace.

Thus, Tara found herself imprisoned, enduring the aftermath of her ordeal at the hands of the captain. She sought solace in comforting little Alla, succumbing to the despair that threatened to consume her.

Then, two days later in the dead of night, the sounds of battle reached her ears. She had been equally hopeful and scared at that time, hopeful that somehow their Home had gotten news of their peril and sent a rescue party and scared that the attacking party could just be another band of pirates, potentially even more brutal.

When the towering Northerner entered the prison cell, Tara braced herself for the worst. However, to her surprise, the giant figure merely surveyed the surroundings before inquiring about her identity. Upon learning that she hailed from the Reach and had a little girl from House Tyrell with her, he immediately sent the information up the chain. And a minute later entered the Man or rather the teen along with the woman named Dacey, and almost
immediately he got them freed from their prison.

And now she was in the Captain's room standing along with little Alla who was trying her best to look like a noble in front of the teen who seemed to be the leader around here and beside him stood the woman Dacey from before, a beautiful but a wild woman who was too comfortable with a mace for Tara's taste.
...

"So, tell me, what is your name?" Jon inquired, standing at ease behind the desk. A plate of apples and other provisions that were usually available on a ship were placed before him, which he had already encouraged the girls to partake in.

With a respectful bow, the maid promptly responded, "I am a maid at Highgarden, Milord. I serve Lady Alerie herself, who, if you are not familiar, is the wife of Lord Paramount—"

"I am aware of who she is," Jon interjected, flashing a smile, before turning his attention to the young girl with brown eyes and hair. He addressed her kindly, "And what is your name?"

Casting a swift glance at the maid, the girl said in a single breath, "I am a Tyrell and I am sure that if you bring me back to Highgarder you will han-hand-handchomely rewarded,"

Amusement danced in Jon's eyes as he observed the little girl's attempt to not look intimidated He then shifted his gaze to the maid, who he was sure had taught the little girl to say exactly those things, "Now, correct me if I'm mistaken, but the only daughter of Lord Mace I know is named Margaery Tyrell, said to be the most beautiful flower in the Reach. However, she is even older than me. So, you're not suggesting that you're Margaery, are
you?"

"That is—Umm," The little girl was flustered and immediately looked at the maid in panic who instantly stiffened. It seems they had not counted on Jon being knowledgeable about Lady Margery's age.

It was clear to Jon that their intention was for him to mistakenly take the little girl as Margery, which the maid probably believed would improve their chances of survival. He was sure that this would have easily worked on the Ironborn who were said to be even more isolated than the North with the South.

"Ah, it seems there's a misunderstanding here," Jon remarked, his tone soothing, as he tried to calm the girls before him, "I am not trying to find out about your identity for ransom or anything like that. I can assure you that I would try my best to make sure that you reach your home as safely as possible no matter who you are,"

The maid remained sceptical, reflecting the negative perception of Northerners in the South, where they were often considered barbarian, and Dacey wasn't helping much, with her amused expression and leisurely eating the apple that was surely from the Maid's ship before they were looted by the Ironborn.

"How about this..." Jon took a deep breath and spoke with the utmost solemnity, "I promise you, in the name of my father Eddard Stark, the Lord Paramount of the North, that I mean you no harm. I will do everything in my power to ensure your safe return to the Reach, regardless of who you are,"

The little girl gasped, her eyes widening with realization. The maid, meanwhile, narrowed her eyes and asked with caution, "Are you Robb Stark?"

"No I am not Robb Stark," Jon shook his head and before Tara could ask any follow-up question he said with a charismatic smile, "I am his more handsome half-brother, Jon Snow,"

Understanding dawned in the maid's eyes, while the little girl blurted out, "You're Lord Stark's bastard—" Before she could continue, the maid swiftly covered the girl's mouth, offering a deep bow of apology to Jon. "I beg your
forgiveness, milord. She is but a young girl who knows no better. Please, forgive her—"

"No need to worry," Jon assured them, gesturing for them to rise from their bowing positions, "As I promised you I won't hurt you and she didn't say anything wrong—I am a bastard and I am not really offended by it or anything,"

Still unsure, the maid cautiously observed Jon and calmed down when he didn't show any sign of anger, which bastards usually had in their eyes when their parentage was mentioned. She was still effectively under their mercy at the moment and didn't want to provoke him so she immediately gestured toward little Alla who got the meaning and said with a remorseful bow, "I apologize for my rudeness, MyLord,"

"As I said you have no need to apologize and I am not a lord," Jon replied patiently, "Now I believe it is time you tell me who you are and where you were headed,"

After a brief pause, the maid took a deep breath and began, "I spoke the truth, Milord. I am Lady Alerie's maid, and this young girl," she gestured towards the child, "is a Tyrell, though not from the main branch. She is the daughter of Ser Leo Tyrell and Lady Alys Bessbury. She is Lady Margaery's cousin and is also in training to be her Lady-in-Waiting..."

Jon pondered the information for a moment, recalling one such character in the ASOIAF novel who came with Margery to King's Landing as her aide and was also the one who befriended Sansa, among other things.
"...and while on a trip to Lannisport to buy some Starkhorses we encountered those pirates who even though had no obvious sigil I am sure were part of the Ironborn—"

"Wait, did you say Starkhorse?" Jon's curiosity peaked, his eyes sparkling with interest.

"Yes, Milord," The maid continued to call him a lord, probably in the hopes that he would be flattered but Jon didn't care about it at all, "Lady Margery had heard about it and wanted one so we were going to Lannisport where it is said to be available,"

When the Starkhorse Factory in Bear Island finally started producing at a smooth pace and he was satisfied with their amount of Stock. Jon felt that it was time for him to fulfil his vision of selling Starkhosrses to all the cities in Westeros and Essos. Starting with Lannisport, the nearest major city in the West, Jon embarked on a slow and deliberate introduction of his Starkhorses to the market, releasing a few batches at a time over the past few
months.

However, the volume of exports remained relatively low. The trade relied solely on their own ships, as no merchant fleet dared to navigate the treacherous route between Lannisport and Bear Island.

They were the only ones who could sail away from the coast using easy directions provided by Jon with Frost's help or if he wasn't available, Dacey was also a good navigator with Cory's help. This allowed them to navigate
a course that steered clear of the Iron Islands by a large margin. With each Ironborn ship, they captured, their fleet's size grew, giving Jon hope that they would soon have enough vessels to export as much as they desired.

Yet, the resounding success in Lannisport took Jon by surprise. He had hoped to impress local merchants with a few Starkhorses and secure them as distributors. This approach was preferable to handling the buying and selling himself, which would have required establishing a shop and establishing connections with local nobility—a hassle he sought to avoid.

Regardless, Jon continued steadily supplying Lannisport with batches of Starkhorses, enjoying a higher profit margin than the ones sold in the North. On his selling trips, he also took the opportunity to purchase inexpensive local products from the Westerlands, bringing them back to bolster the economy in the western part of the North, which didn't enjoy a port like the White Harbour.

And he was just looking for a way to do the same in Reach, so when the wonderful opportunity presented itself before him he was ecstatic. Because he knew that if he played it exactly right then not only would he be able to penetrate the market of Reach, but he would also be able to access their dirt-cheap corps which would be a boon for the whole of the North.

"Ah—You must be hungry," Jon smiled warmly as he addressed the maid and the young girl. Then he turned to Dacey and requested, "Dacey can you get someone to give them a room and also provide them with some food, I think they deserve it after their harrowing experience,"

Dacey nodded in understanding, taking both girls with her as they gratefully followed along. Left alone in the room, Jon pondered for a while before reaching a decision. The first order of business was to write a letter to his father, Lord Stark. If he wanted to fully seize this opportunity, he would need to wield some of his father's authority and influence.

 

[LazyWizard]

The wind whipped through Tara's hair as she stood on the deck of the ship, her gaze fixed on the spectacle unfolding before her. The crew were going through their usual morning training and Dacey Mormont, the formidable female warrior from the North, was going through the younger crew members one by one with ease and grace that she had never expected from a woman with a Morning Star.

Several days had passed since Tara and little Alla were rescued from Ironborn captivity, and Tara couldn't be more grateful. Jon Snow stood at the ship's forefront, with Alla clinging to him as if he were her blood brother. Tara couldn't fathom how Jon had so quickly charmed the shy girl transforming into her newfound best friend.

Little Alla was curious about everything and was constantly asking Jon questions about one thing or another. And Jon who had two little sisters back home was indulging her expertly and while Tara was a little unnerved she also took solace in the fact that Alla had recovered from her traumatic experience as an Ironborn prisoner remarkably fast.

Jon Snow was standing outside the impromptu ring with little Alla and both were on the side cheering or instead, he was goading on the crew members who were being decimated one-sidedly by their vice-captain, "That's it, lads! Don't let her off easy! Show her what you're made of!"

"Show 'em what you're made of!" Alla echoed enthusiastically, cheering on Dacey, who had quickly become her idol.

A teen calling a bunch of big-ass Northerners 'lads' would have gotten his ass handed to him anywhere else but it seems that no one had problems with it on this ship. But that Teen also being the captain of the ship was already too unusual so it didn't matter too much.

"Come on, Dacey. You're taking it too easy on them," Jon yelled enthusiastically.

Dacey flashed him a cocky grin as she deftly dodged a spear thrust, countering with a swift strike to her opponent's chest. "But... What can I do, They are too easy!"

Struggling to maintain his balance on the swaying deck, her opponent grunted in frustration, narrowly missing a swing at Dacey. She effortlessly sidestepped, teasingly taunting him. "Aye, lad, keep your balance! Can't have you falling overboard, now can we? Cory hasn't had dinner in a while. You wouldn't want to become fish food, would you?"

Laughter erupted from the crew, and the fighter's face reddened with a mixture of embarrassment and determination. He regained his footing and lunged forward, aiming for Dacey's midsection.

But she was ready, her reflexes sharp. With a swift twist of her body, Dacey spun around, mace connecting with the fighter's arm, sending his weapon clattering to the deck. "Better luck next time, my friend! Try to keep up!"

As the mock battles continued, the ship sailed steadily through the ocean, and the crew member fighting pushed themselves harder to compensate for the constant movement. After a few more mock battles Dacey's craving had been satisfied and she allowed the crew to resume their duties. Everyone dispersed, attending to their assigned tasks.

Little Alla went with Jon to his room, where he was teaching her all kinds of things like drawing, reading her stories and playing games with her. A stranger wouldn't even be able to tell that both of them didn't know each other just a few days ago.

Tara was left alone on the deck, her eyes scanning the vast expanse of the ocean in every direction. Left, right, front, back—the unending stretch of water was all she could see, devoid of any sign of a coastline. The sight filled her with an overwhelming sense of fear, surpassing any other apprehension she had experienced.

She couldn't fathom how these Northerners were navigating at all as it was the first she had ever heard of someone on a long trip like this one not sailing along the Coast. Initially, she entertained the notion that the crew somehow used the sun as a guide, a concept she had heard stories about, albeit considering it absurd. But as the ship continued its relentless journey, never halting even on cloudy days or during the night, she dismissed
that idea.

Driven by curiosity, Tara discreetly questioned several crew members, only to receive the same response—they had no idea and that they left all the navigating to the Captain and the Vice-Captain. And she knew better than to ask Jon or Dacey because if it really was a new revolutionary way of travelling then there was no way they would even entertain the idea of telling it to a lowly maid like her.

Thus, she spent many sleepless nights wondering if they would be lost forever at the sea and that the ship would be the place where she would eventually die. But it seems she was the only one with such fear as the Northerners with their nerves of steel didn't seem to waste a single breath worrying about if they would somehow get lost on the sea.

And so when she went to sleep that night it was once again with a prayer to the Crone to guide her way to safety.

Thankfully her worry was for nought. When Tara woke the next day, an air of excitement permeated the crew as they went about their tasks with unusual vigour. When she asked about it they told her that according to Captain they would reach the Shore shortly.

True to their words, a few dozen minutes later, Tara spotted a port on the horizon, illuminated by the rising sun. Overwhelmed with emotion, she couldn't help but shed a few tears at the sight of land after the harrowing experiences she had endured. From the attack on her ship to Lannisport to her captivity and the cruelties inflicted upon her by the Ironborn, and finally, the uncertainty of ever reaching solid ground while aboard the ship with the Northern folk.

All of this was enough of her to stove off ever going on a ship for life.

...

As they entered the familiar port Jon was gratified to see that it was a little bigger than the last time, which was a familiar thing for him. Since he had arrived at Bear Island the construction for the port had been going non-stop without a single break. And he was proud to say that it was finally starting to look like a port instead of what it was before, a place where the locals tied their fishing boats.

He counted about 15 ships moored to the port at the moment and while it seemed like a big number, they were actually all their ships that they had "borrowed" from their generous neighbours to help them with pirating addiction. Since it would be wrong to call it a port when there was no foreign ship in there but that was how it had been for decades and it was hard to change it in a few years.

But Jon was working on a solution for that and he was happy to say that it was very close to being fulfilled. The main reason for the lack of foreign ships was very simple, lack of opportunities to make profits. If Bear Island
could somehow export valuable things like Gold or silk, there was no doubt that the merchants would somehow find a way to make a trip here one way or another. Unfortunately, their resources were limited to wood, furs, and other inexpensive commodities.

And even those could be used to entice the merchants if they could trade safely and regularly but sadly that hadn't been possible because of the Ironborn. Only wealthy and powerful merchants, capable of commanding their own fleet and hiring sellswords for protection against pirates, would even consider the journey. And they would only make such a trip if it was worth their while and it wasn't so at the moment.

Or of course, on the other end, you could also be a pirate or a slaver like the one who contacted Jorah with a connection to the Ironborn so that they don't loot you on sight.
Jon had gleaned some rumours from the Ironborn he had "gently" interrogated, that Asha Grejoy, the heir of Balon at the moment was already in the Disputed Islands at the moment learning the ropes of Family business. And
it was even said that Euron Grejoy was making regular trips there to reave the Essosi's to his heart's content.

Euron hadn't made his infamous Asshai trip yet so at the moment he was still a bit sane and was just one of the more notorious pirates and didn't have the fearsome reputation he would have in the future.

Anyway, the previously mentioned solution was that during the last few trips to Lannisport, he had been in contact with a few wealthy merchants who were interested in making a trip to the North to sell and buy if he somehow told them the so-called "secret" route he was taking. And that had given Jon the idea of establishing a small shipping company that would offer protection and secure passages for merchant vessels willing to join their fleet for a reasonable fee.

The only thing he was waiting for was a few more merchants to get on board so that they could create a proper fleet and make trade between the North and the South of the Western shore a reality.

After a while, the anchors were dropped, and both ships were securely moored at the bustling port. Almost immediately, a flurry of activity ensued as people began entering and unloading the cargo. Jon was one of the first to disembark along with Dacey and their guest Tara and Alla.

The moment he got down he was met with a short chunky, and muscular girl, with big hands, and thighs. Standing beside her was a younger girl who bore a striking resemblance to a youthful Dacey, clutching a small ledger in her hands.

"Jon! Dacey!" Lyra Mormont, the younger sister with the ledger, exclaimed with an exuberant smile, practically bouncing in place.

"Calm down, They are coming here whether you shout or not," the bigger girl said gruffly while rolling her eyes. She was Alysanne Mormont, the second eldest daughter of Maege also known as the She-Bear (no one said that to her face and lived though).

"Hey, kid," Dacey said with a warm smile and took her little sister in her arms and hugged her tightly, while greeting the older one with a smile, "How is it going, Aly,"

"Nothing much, just the usual," Alysanne said with a shrug and a soft smile.

Jon waited for the sisters to separate before he went toward Lyra and rubbed her head affectionately before asking, "How are you, Kid? Did you handle the port well while I was away?"

"I did! I didn't make a single mistake this time," Lyra proudly declared, showcasing the ledger she held. While Jon engaged in conversation with Lyra, Dacey introduced the two girls from the Reach to Alysanne. Jon had already instructed Dacey to accommodate them in the guest house, relieving him of any concerns regarding their well-being.

There were not a lot of literate and trustworthy people around this part so Jon had no choice but to teach little Lyra, Maege's daughter from the start so that one day when the port here becomes an actual port like the White Harbour, she would be well-prepared to take on the duties.

"I'll make sure to check that then," JJon replied, accepting the ledger from Lyra with a smile. Glancing over the recent entries, he inquired, "So where are the rest of the ships,"

"Well they are on their training trips," Lyra said gesturing enthusiastically, "Two are on their way to Barrowlands, three on the way to Torrhen's Square and a single one to Flint's island,"

The training system Lyra was talking about was part of a small system Jon had established here over the years.

After a few initial months and the success of his first few night raids, Jon had recognised one thing which was that the thing he would need the most in the future wouldn't be Ships but Sailors to sail them. So he worked out a system with Maege's assistance to help him with that.

What they had done was establish a small informal school that would produce a certain quality of sailors for them. There were three levels to this school.

The first level was the actual school which was just a small building near the Mormont Castle, where a few Veteran Sailor taught kids, teens, older men, women or anyone able-bodied from the nearby villages and castles, who came here to find a job or to become a sailor after hearing tales from the merchants about the money to be to made here.

Then for a few months, they were rigorously taught all the things they would require to work on a ship from rigging to tying various kinds of knots to how to raise a sail to even how to clean the deck and finally how to fight on a moving ship.

And after the veterans were satisfied with the few that passed their requirements they would send them to the next level where they would start learning hands-on on the ships. That is when they start to go on the so-called Training trips. These trips are usually taken from Bear Island to all the nearby Northern ports on this side such as Torrhen's Square, Barrowtown, and Flint's Finger and they even made a few trips to Moat Cailin.

And these trips were taken weekly which meant that not only did the prospective sailors get a lot of practice on relatively safer water. These frequent trips meant that Bear Island was not the only western port of the North that prospered. Since the ships almost always traded with the locals wherever they went there, it meant that they were making the locals richer a few gold dragons at a time with every trip.

The active trading along the western shores marked a significant boom for the overall economy of the North, reviving a dormant aspect of its commerce that hadn't been seen in centuries. And when Jon would eventually start making frequent trips down to Lannisport and Reach, it would be as if there would be a rebirth of the whole North, or at least that was a dream of Jon.

Anyway, after the trainee sailors completed enough training trips they would become proper sailors and get to go beyond Iron Islands and to be part of the Frost fleet. The Frost fleet is what the locals called it when Jon took as many ships as he could, filled with Starkhorses to brim with him to Lannisport and whenever he came back he bought back his ships filled with riches as well as products from Westerlands.

"All of this looks good, Lyra," Jon praised the young Mormont and she gave him a huge smile. She wasn't as good as her sister in combat and was more interested in Books and so when picked to train to be the future port master she was ecstatic and decided that she would work as hard as she could to succeed.

"Come on, Jon," Dacey said after finishing up arranging lodging for Tara and Alla with Alysanne, "Let's go to the Castle, Mother must have gotten the news of our arrival by now. And you know how she gets when she has to wait,"

"Alright then," Jon nodded and started to move with Dacey toward the castle after telling Lyra and Alysanne to take care of the new ship they had gotten. Evey time he got a new ship it first has to pass through a process so that it stops looking like an Ironborn's ship which involved some paint, some refitting and a few changes to sail.

He passed through the port, where a small market had cropped up over the past few months. Though it paled in comparison to bustling markets like White Harbour or Oldtown, the small market that had emerged here was a significant development for the people from nearby villages and holdings who had probably never left the confines of their village.

Jon looked around in pride as he saw the rapid changes the place, which was just a small fishing village with a few crofters, had gone through in a matter of a few years.

The establishment of the Starkhorses factory and the influx of goods brought by the ships had created numerous job opportunities in the area. Merchants engaged in trading activities between Bear Islands and the inland villages, while woodcutters, cart drivers, port workers, and sailors became prominent figures in the local workforce. And with the arrival of these jobs came an influx of money.

With newfound wealth came the irresistible urge to spend it. Soon enough, pubs, inns, blacksmith shops, and clothing stores began to spring up, catering to the growing demands of the burgeoning community.

"I could kill for a drink, right now," Dacey said longingly while looking at the pub they were passing by. Even from out here, Jon could feel the liveliness that was being created in there. The clanking of mugs, laughter, cursing and shouts Jon could hear from outside told him about the celebratory mood in there.

"You don't have to kill for that," Jon said with a wry smile while pushing a very reluctant Dacey towards their destination, "I am sure your mother won't keep us for long and then you can go for some drinks. I am sure our crew would also be already there by then too,"

"I hope so too," Dacey said, before she looked at Jon with a raised eyebrow, "And you still won't drink a mug or two,"

"As I told you already, the day I grow a beard is the day I drink my first glass,"

"Pussy..." Dacey scoffed.

"Yeah! Yeah!" Jon rolled his eyes at the expected remark.

While he didn't know exactly know what effects drinking from such a young age would have, he was sure there was a reason his previous world had a minimum drinking age. So to be on the safe side Jon had decided to abstain from that until he was reasonably old no matter how many names he was called.

They eventually arrived in front of the Castle door, which had been upgraded recently to a heavy Ironwood one. Maege had earned quite a bit of tax over the past few years with all this improvement and after she had paid her debts, the first thing she had done on Jon's suggestion was to invest in improving the infrastructure whenever and wherever she could.

They passed through the Longhall and arrived before the Lord's Solar. And as they approached closer, Jon could hear multiple loud voices coming from inside arguing about some kind of an attack.

Jon and Dacey exchanged glances and before Jon could even raise his hand to knock, Dacey opened the door forcefully causing an abrupt silence to fall upon the room. Jon rolled his eyes and followed after Dacey, inside the room there were three people, two men and one woman.

The woman standing imposingly behind the dest was of course Maege, the lady of Bear Island and beside her was the Master-at-arms here, a bear-like handsome man named Brandon and if the rumours were to be believed he was also the father of all of Maege's daughter. And the last man was the captain of guards, Pod, a bald man with wild whiskers and a foul mouth.

The moment the door was slammed open Maege angrily opened her mouth to curse the son-of-a-bitch that dared to slam her door but closed her mouth at the sight of her own daughter.

"What happened," Dacey asked her mother impatiently, "Who are you attacking,"

"You came at just the right time. One of Jon's minions sent a letter an hour ago," Maege said greeting Jon before she turned toward her daughter with a smile, "Some wildings were sighted making their way here,"

"How many? And how far?" Jon asked immediately.

"About fifty and the letter said they were a few days away," Maege said calmly before she asked with a smirk, "So, the two of you tired or are you ready to join the festivities,"

"Of course, we're going to join," Dacey said immediately agreeing for him without a care about his opinion, "And I'll be leading this time," she said to Jon with her hands on her waist.

Jon sighed, shaking his head in mild exasperation. "Fine," before he said, "It seems like you're going to miss the chance to get hungover,"

"There are few things I'll choose over alcohol but..." Dacey said with a smirk, "Bashing in some Wildling Skulls is definitely one of them,"

 

[LazyWizard]

Sailing through the evening mist hanging low over choppy waters, a small fleet of about 10 make-shift rafts and battered boats, were making their way toward, their target, the coast of Bear Island. Bobbing and weaving like restless spectres against the grey backdrop of the sea, the Wildlings were trying to best to stay as silent as possible. On the makeshift vessels, rugged warriors adorned in furs and leathers glared at the island, their weapons glinting in the pale light.

"See, What'd I tell Ya? Huh?" A large imposing bearded man said pointing toward the coast, from the front of the leading boat, "It's still the same old fishing village like it always was. I've raided these shits more than three times in my life and I've never once failed,"

Looking at the coast, the rest of Wildling could see for themselves that the man was right, the port appeared empty, devoid of any significant ships or notable defences. The scattered tools left behind by the workers suggested an unfinished project.

It seemed that the workers had left their work midway and had gone to their homes for the day leaving their tools in disarray. There was nothing about the port that screamed danger and they could see cooking fires from the houses some ways which meant that everyone was having dinner at their homes without even leaving some sentry behind.

"B-But What about what Mance said?" One of the younger Wildlings asked while holding onto his wooden spears tightly, "And none of the men who went on the last few raids here ever returned. There must be something wrong—"

"Fuck Mance!" Greybeard growled dangerously, "That crow thinks he can fool us into believing that this fishing village somehow turned into a big port with giant ships in a few moons," He spat to the side straight into the face of the younger wildling.

"Ah! You—"

"What?" Greybeard barked.

"Nothing," The young wildling looked away as he knew that he wouldn't survive if he didn't back down.

"That's why I brought along one of his brats," the bearded man continued, a malicious smirk creeping across his face. "When his own flesh and blood confirms what I say, they'll have no choice but to believe me. And when we return with plenty of ale, food, and women, they'll see Mance for the crow he is, hiding under that white cloak." His laughter echoed through the air, met with a mix of chuckles and disapproving grunts from his followers.

The Wildlings were aware of the bitter enmity between the bearded man, known as Greybeard, and Mance Rayder, the leader who had recently joined their ranks. Greybeard's failed attempt to steal Mance's wife, Dalla, and subsequent defeat in a duel had fueled the deep-rooted hatred between them.

As the fleet neared the coast, Greybeard raised his axe and rallied his men. "Besides, I've heard there are plenty of feisty women all over the Islands, enough for everyone here. You want to taste the she-bears of Bear Island, don't ya?"

"AYE!" "AYE!" "AYE!" "AYE!"

The Wildlings erupted in a chorus of cheers, their excitement reaching a crescendo. The prospect of victory, plunder, and women fueled their adrenaline, drowning out any lingering doubts. Their eyes gleamed with a mix of lust and anticipation as they readied themselves for the impending raid on Bear Island.

.....

"AYE!!!"

On the other end, along the rugged coastline, a small band of warriors from Bear Island, both men and women, crouched in hidden alcoves and behind various structures, awaiting the perfect moment to strike. They were hiding so skilfully that the incoming wildling army had no idea if someone was even present at the port. Having gone through this routine numerous times, the defenders were well-practised in setting up ambushes, whether against Ironborn raiders or the Wildlings.

Crouched behind a large rock alongside Jon, Dacey couldn't help but scoff upon hearing the not-so-subtle shouts of "Aye!" from the attacking Wildlings. "How foolish can these barbarians be?" she murmured. "Shouting like that just before launching an attack. Do they not know how an ambush works?"

Rolling his eyes, Jon whispered teasingly, "Well, well, look who's talking. I recall a young girl who always loved to let out the loudest warcry, showcasing her fierceness. She would go something like, 'Ahhhh...Die! Fuckers!'"

"Shut up! I have no idea what you're talking about," Dacey retorted, trying to hide her embarrassment.

As the wildlings grew nearer, the archers prepared themselves lining their arrows and holding their bows tightly waiting for the order to shoot. They had experienced more than ten similar attacks in the past, including encounters with Wildling parties and Ironborn raiders and every time they had had ample to set an ambush due to Lady Mormont somehow getting the news of the attacks in advance.

And while the Smallfolk had no idea how she did it, they were just happy that they were having an increasing advantage in their fights against the invaders.

All of this had become possible thanks to the system Jon had devised during his time on Bear Island. Jon quickly realized that protecting the entire west coast with just Frost and Dory would be challenging since he couldn't always be present, and Dacey would also need to lead their fleet to various ports in his absence. This would mean leaving their home vulnerable which wasn't good so Jon thought of a way to solve that.

Thus, Jon began making regular trips to the villages along the western coast every few weeks. During his visits, he actively searched for potential wargs, utilizing the blood of the First Men that ran in their veins. To his surprise, there were more individuals with warging potential than he had anticipated.

So Jon went around searching for the perfect minions that would be able to create a protective net around the west coast with their companions whether they be sea animals or flying birds. He would mostly choose orphans or local kids and scrutinize their character for some time and if it seemed that they would be trustworthy he would bring them along to Bear Island.

He kept them close, teaching them the basics of warging so they could establish connections with the animals and birds he assigned to them from birth. And when they were adequately qualified they would go back to their respective villages where their animal companions would be able to easily keep track of their nearby places to be on the lookout for any kind of raids.

At the moment, there were five of these novice wargs, two boys and three girls, scattered across all the villages of the western coast and whenever they encountered enemies they were ordered to send a letter straight to Lady Mormont who had taken the default position of the defence commander.

And Jon paid them handsomely for their services which kept them happy enough to not blab about warging and all to the next person they meet.

Dacey suddenly noticed in her periphery that as the Wildlings came close to the shore, Jon was frowning fiercely with his eyes unfocused as if he was not completely here, and asked curiously, "Something amiss?"

"Yes," Jon nodded and his distant eyes suddenly focused on Dacey and said seriously, "There are too few of them... I counted twice just now, they are only 32 of them,"

"What?" Dacey exclaimed in surprise, squinting at the boats, but she knew that it was impossible for her to count them the way Jon did with his special method, so decided to just trust in his sums, "Maybe your minion was wrong?"

Jon shook his head firmly. "No, at least 10 to 15 of them are missing. It's too significant to be a simple mistake," he responded, his eyes momentarily losing focus before refocusing. "I sent Frost to scout the nearby villages... I hope I'm mistaken."

"We can't do anything about it now," Dacey murmured, signalling her fellow defenders. The hidden warriors rose from their concealed positions, a wave of anticipation sweeping through them as they prepared for the surprise assault.

Jon exchanged a nod with his fellow archers, and the moment Dacey raised her sword, they unleashed a small hail of arrows on the unsuspecting Wildlings who were in the midst of disembarking, their deadly precision immediately thinning the ranks of the oncoming enemy.

"Agh!" "Ugh" "Ahhh!!!"

Caught off guard, Grunts gasps, screams and cries of surprise came from the Wildlings. Admiringly most of them didn't even flinch at the ambush and with a bellow of war cry followed after the bear-like man with a grey beard and charged forward.

The shoreline quickly became a battlefield, with men and women slashing, parrying and fighting for their lives. And It was evident that the defenders held the advantage because they were better equipped with armour and leather, and had good quality steel against their opponent's bronze and wooden ones, and of course, they also had numbers on their side, so it was only a matter of time before they won.

Jon positioned himself at the rear, methodically firing arrow after arrow with deadly precision, targeting the larger and more dangerous foes first and he was always on the lookout for anyone who was having trouble with their opponents and helping them. The people of Bear Island had come to rely on his presence, as casualties were typically minimal with Jon at their backs.

Suddenly a ping went inside his head and Jon saw in the back of his mind, a small raiding party minutes away from a small fishing village, through Frost's perspective. Jon immediately searched for Dacey and found her fighting with the towering Wildling, one with a grey beard. She was running circles around him with her morning star and even though she was weaker than him, Jon knew that she would win eventually as the Wildling was already limping.

However, Jon had no time to spare. He raised his bow and swiftly dispatched the Wildling, shooting him through the eye. Dacey whipped her head around, her gaze locking onto Jon as he navigated the chaotic field toward her. Filled with anger, she growled, "I didn't need your help—"

"They are at the Whitebear Village," Jon interrupted her and said quickly, "The missing Wildlings are on their way to raid them and the villagers don't seem to have any defenders at the moment,"

"Shit!" Dacey's rage cooled instantly. Stepping away from the ongoing fight, she quickly ordered, "Take ten warriors and go. Perhaps you can make it—"

"No they'll just slow me down," Jon said backing away toward the rear where Peggy was already waiting for him as if she was just about to sprint, "I'll take the shortcut through the forest with Peggy. I just came to warn you,"

"NO!" Dacey shouted but the brat had already rushed away like wind on his monstrous horse, "Agh... Don't die you bastard!" she yelled after him before she looked back at the fight that was still going on and entered it with a war cry filled with anger and started smashing heads left and right with her Morningstar.

"Ahhh...DIE! YOU FUCKERS!!"

Meanwhile, Jon had swiftly entered the forest, expertly manoeuvring between the trees on Peggy. His horse effortlessly ducked under branches, leapt over shrubs, and evaded obstacles without hesitation.

Jon laid himself flat on Peggy, trying to minimize the air resistance as much as possible. His riding skills had become so refined that he synchronized his movements with Peggy's jumps and shifts, providing her with continuous support. And not only that he was also providing her intel on the terrain that would be coming far ahead and feeding the optimal path through it directly to her brain allowing her to traverse the forest with ease
while keeping her focus primarily on the immediate track before her.

Typically, even the swiftest and most experienced riders would require an hour to circle the forest and reach Whitebear Village, while a skilled hunter might take about half that time through the dense woods. However, Jon could cover the same distance in a matter of minutes. He could only hope it would be fast enough...
...

P.O.V Change

'She was so STUPID! She should have listened to Dalla and never should have believed that bastard,' Val mused in regret as she concealed herself among the leaves of a towering tree outside the small village.

Val could still remember the day that her sister had found that turn cloak injured while on a hunting trip. Val had been about to kill him just like any normal Freefolk would but her sister stopped her and then not only did she
not immediately kill him but she also brought him back to their tribe and tended to his injuries.

While Val had always known that her sister was a very kind woman, which was a rarity in the true North, she still didn't think that she was this stupid. Sadly she was the elder sister so ultimately Val had to listen to her no matter how much she hated it, but that crow not only did not leave after he got healed he became one of them and even had the nerve to steal Dalla for himself not that she resisted very much.

Now, Val normally wouldn't have much of a problem with her sister's partner but she just had to choose a Crow. And thing only went downhill after that as everyone began avoiding Val and Dalla, for nothing stirred greater disdain among the Wildlings than a crow. But Dalla was adamant about it and didn't budge even once even when Val threatened to leave her (not that she would).

And in her bitterness, she made a foolish mistake and agreed to join Greybeard when he proclaimed that he would raid Bear Island and disprove Mance's claim that it had become a big port now and was too dangerous to raid for supplies. Val had merely sought to spite her sister and Mance, who had been in a long-standing feud with Greybeard ever since his arrival and subsequent defeat in a duel.

Mance had become famous among the Wildlings when he proved to be able to regularly climb the wall to go over the other side and even live among these southerners for a few days without them ever recognising him for the Freefolk he had become. And somehow one thing leads to another and he had eventually become the leader of their tribe which was one of the big ones on that side of the wall.

And all the people who came on this raid were the ones who weren't happy with having a former crow as their leader but Mance had proved his skills in combat and his cunning more than enough times that they couldn't do anything about it.

A day ago Val separated from the main party because Greybeard had decided that too many people on the rafts and boats would make them too slow for the ambush and their eventual retreat with their haul, so he had broken the raid into two parties and Val had immediately jumped on the chance to go with the smaller party as she knew that the bastard Greybeard had started looking at her peculiarly was not good news.

Maybe he thought that since he couldn't get the older sister he would go for the younger one but Val was only 14 this year and had no intention of being claimed by that wretch nearing half a century. But she knew that she couldn't beat him so the only thing she could do was pray that he somehow died during the raid, and she swore that if she reached her home safely then she would always listen to her sister.

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a piercing scream. Looking down, Val beheld a grotesque scene unfolding before her eyes. Greybeard's brother, leading this raid, yanked a woman by her hair, while her husband lay at his feet, bearing a severe axe wound across his chest, cursing vehemently at the laughing wildling.

The villagers had somehow known that they would be attacked so they had hidden behind trees and houses and peppered them with arrows. They had managed to kill five of them like that but their arrows eventually ran out and while they were good they were just not as fierce and good as the wildlings in combat, and it seemed that there was only a single man present in the whole village at this time so they eventually lost.

Just as the wildling prepared to drag the woman away, and hope seemed lost for the villagers, a swift whoosh resonated through the air. All eyes turned skyward, witnessing Greybeard's brother gagging, an arrow lodged in his throat. He collapsed, freeing the woman from his clutches.

The Wildling who were just about to revel in their successful raid looked toward the place where the arrow came from and witnessed a man leaping through the trees on a massive horse. With his curly hair flowing, he skillfully shot a second arrow that found its mark in the eye of a Spearwife peeking out of a house, bringing about an abrupt silence

Everyone seemed to startle awake at that moment as they recognised the threat the man presented. Simultaneously, cries of anger erupted, and they charged straight at the rider. The man, undeterred, continued his relentless assault, galloping toward the Wildlings while effortlessly shooting arrows.

Val was mesmerized by the unparalleled archery she was witnessing. Never in her life had she seen such skill, especially on horseback. He surpassed even Ygritte, the most exceptional archer she knew among the Wildlings. Before they could even reach him, he had already claimed the lives of half their group. Astonishingly, he didn't stop there. Swiftly placing his bow on his back, he drew a spear from his side and ran straight through
them while killing men and women left and right.

Before she knew it Val noticed that only three people were left of the wildling party that came along with her. The realization snapped her out of her daze, understanding that she couldn't cross back over the Wall alone. She
swiftly raised her bow, knocked an arrow and aimed it at the rider and shot it.

While she didn't possess Ygritte's exceptional skill, Val was a competent archer and could hit her target eight out of ten times and the arrow was going straight for the Kneeler's neck so she thought he would die for sure but unbelievingly the man, as if he had eyes at the back of his head, tilted his head slightly and the arrow just barely grazed his hair leaving him unhurt.

The man went back to fighting, unfazed, as if he hadn't just almost died due to an arrow. He had lost the spear by now in one of the three men's chests and was now fighting on foot with his sword with the last two and he was fending off their attacks so easily as if he knew their every move before they even struck.

'It had to be a fluke,' Val thought furiously and shook her head to clear it before taking a deep breath and raising her bow to try once more. She let loose an arrow, carefully choosing the moment when the man had just dispatched the second-to-last foe, leaving him off-balance. She was certain that this time he would fall this time. However, an even more unbelievable thing happened—the man somehow caught the arrow just inches from his throat, leaving Val dumbfounded.

Before Val could even process the insane feat she had just witnessed, she saw the curly-haired pretty boy look straight at her with annoyance before he went back to fighting the last man who seemed to be on his last leg.

Before Val could even raise her bow for the third time, an ice-blue shadow flicked past her hand and she yelped as the bow flew from her hand leaving a bruise on her hand. She looked around wildly for the assailant while barely hanging on to the tree branch she was sitting on. It took a few moments to even think of looking up and she yelped again when she found a huge ass blue eagle looking straight at her with its massive eyes.

Val swallowed hard, trembling as she reached into her cloak and pulled out a piece of jerky, offering it to the eagle. She stammered, "T-Take this. P-Please don't eat me!"
Val could swear to the old gods that the bird actually rolled her eyes before she flew away with a soft scoff or rather caw of disinterest. She almost cried tears of relief that she didn't get her eyes pecked and just didn't care
anymore.

Down below Jon had already finished up with the last wildling with nary a scratch on him and approached the villagers who had been assisting him from the side however they could. Jon knew that most of the men here were out fishing at the moment, the reason the only people he could see were all women except for the single man who was being helped by his wife to stop the bleeding in his chest.

"You're late, boy," the man grunted at Jon as he saw him approach.

"Sorry, old man," Jon replied with a familiar grin. "These Wildlings were cunning enough to attack the port simultaneously, and I was caught up there."

Groaning as his wife finished tending to his wounds, the man asked, "Are they all dead, then?"

"Yeah, almost," Jon responded, glancing toward a tree at the edge of the village. He wore a serious expression as he asked the man, "Did we lose anyone?"

"No. We knew that help had to be on their way so we mostly kept them away with arrows and you know how these bloody curs are, they never kill women if they could help it (to take them away), so the only one hurt is me... guess I should have been born a woman... HAHA,"

Jon laughed along with his crass joke which got him a strike from his wife making him yelp in pain and curse, "Dammit Woman, I am injured here,"

Leaving the bickering couple alone, Jon went to the deal with the last of the annoyance who was hiding in a tree.

...

'Please forget about me!' 'Please forget about me!' 'Please forget about me!'

Val fervently prayed as she observed the kneeler conversing with the villagers instead of heading directly toward her. Unfortunately, it seemed that the Old Gods were determined to disappoint her, as it wasn't long before the man stood up and purposefully made his way toward her.

She knew that escaping was useless with the horse grazing nearby so with shaky hands Val withdrew the dagger her sister had gifted her, which seemed especially small in her hands at the moment.

Before she could prepare herself, the man stood at the base of the tree, looking up at her. and after a few moments said calmly, "Why don't you come down? I promise I won't hurt you,"

Val scoffed, as if she would believe such as stupid lie and spat at him while cursing, "Fuck you, KNEELER!"

The pretty boy just sighed and after looking at the tree for a moment as if debating if it was worth it to climb he surprisingly turned his back to her with a shake of his head which was the stupidest anyone could do. Val thought for a moment that it was a trap but it she knew that it would be her final chance so she didn't hesitate and just jumped straight down with the dagger pointing straight at his neck.

"AHHHH—"

But sadly for her, it seemed that the man had been waiting for that as he calmly took a step to the right dodging her perfectly and Val slammed straight into the ground with a loud. *THUMP*

Val immediately tried to get up despite the fierce pain but the man didn't leave her a chance and pressed a knee to her back while locking her arms behind her, rendering her motionless. And after she eventually tired herself out from resisting him, he asked her in a boyish voice, "What's your name Blondie?"

"FUCK YOU!! YOU BASTARD!!"

"And how did you know that," Val could hear a smile in his voice as if there was an inside joke that only he knew about.

 

[LazyWizard]

"Do you really think she's a wildling?" A 13 years old chubby boy curiously asked his fellow classmates.

Their teacher, a one-legged veteran sailor, had just freed them from their class where they had been taught how to unfurl the sail. And as they stepped outside, their path led them to the training ground where an enthralling duel was taking place. So all of them had gathered outside the duelling ring to watch the infamous daughter of Lady Mormont, Dacey fending off attacks from a fierce 14-year-old girl.

"She can't be a wildling," declared a confident seventeen-year-old girl, her tall frame and freckled face exuding assurance. "Look at her! She's too pretty for that!"

And indeed, the subject of their discussion possessed an enchanting beauty that captivated all who laid eyes upon her. With flowing locks of blonde, akin to the shade of dark honey, cascading down to her waist, and high, chiselled cheekbones, she embodied a rare wild beauty. Her eyes, a pale grey that could transform into a gentle blue under the morning light, only enhanced her allure.

In fact, she was probably the most beautiful person the people around here had seen for quite a while. The last beauty the Smallfolks had seen was the Southerner wife that Jorah Mormont, their lord at that time had married, the one he ran away with.

"B-But I heard that Jon bought her here just after the Wildling attack?" murmured a smaller boy, his voice tinged with a touch of fear, "A-And she can even speak the Old Tongue." Tales of wildlings, spun by his grandmother, had left him trembling at the mere thought of encountering them.

Val continued to attack Dacey with all her might, and for a girl who seemed to have received no formal training she was doing pretty good with the short sword, but alas Dacey was too good for her and was easily running circles around her and repeatedly beating her into the ground.

"Aye, but she's got the look of a southerner," interjected the tall girl, her confidence unwavering. "Just look at her golden locks and those icy blue eyes."

"Perhaps she's one of those girls they rescued from the clutches of the Ironborn during their last voyage," offered a helpful older girl, striving to shed light on the enigma. "You know, the ones from the Reach."

The oldest boy, wise beyond his years at twenty-five, shook his head with a gruff voice. "That can't be it. I've heard tales of those girls, and she doesn't fit the description. One's too young, and the other's too old."

"So, she really is a wildling?" exclaimed the boy with the prominent nose, his disbelief palpable.

"But why would Jon bring her here, then?" questioned the tall girl, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Doesn't that seem rather dangerous?"

"It's obvious isn't it," The oldest boy said nodding his head sagely, "Young Jon isn't so young anymore, he is now already old enough to know some things. He was probably smitten with her looks and couldn't bear to kill her,"

The tall girl shook her head, countering, "Or maybe she's just from one of the nearby villages. You know how Jon has a habit of rescuing teenagers and bringing them here for training."

"Or maybe... she is..." A mischievous voice whispered from behind, causing everyone to instinctively lean in, their ears pricked to catch the soft-spoken words. Then, the voice erupted, "NONE OF YOUR DAMN BUSINESS!"

The group of gossiping teenagers cringed as the loud exclamation assaulted their eardrums. In an instant, they snapped to attention, their bodies rigid, as they realized who had caught them.

Jon Snow stood before them, his gaze piercing and formidable. "Seems like you have plenty of time to waste on gossip," he growled menacingly. "Perhaps the instructors have been too lenient. I'll be sure to remind them to increase your workload when I see them. Now... Go Run around the ground 10 times,"

"Yes," they chimed, their voices a mixture of trepidation and obedience.

"NOW!!!"

Jon bellowed, his voice thundering through the air. The students scrambled into action, hastily beginning to run around the training grounds that would take even the fastest among them about 5 minutes to even complete a single round. So it would probably be hard for most of them to see this through, "Perhaps this will teach them a lesson about unnecessary gossip," he mused to himself.

He turned his attention to Val who was getting increasingly frustrated at her inability to defeat Dacey. There was a straightforward reason behind Jon bringing Val with him to Bear Island, which involved one of his goals.

Jon had three vague goals that he had created for himself since his toddler days when he had been confined to his crib, goals that he felt were essential for him to survive and live a life in this new world that he wouldn't regret.

The first goal was an obvious and basic one which was to make sure that he and his family( The Starks mainly) survived the unfortunate events and wars that they didn't in canon. As he grew older that group had expanded to include more and more of his friends from the north which made the task even harder.

His primary strategy to accomplish this goal was to prevent the war from occurring in the first place. And if it were unavoidable, then make sure that he somehow ends up on the winning side.

Now the second goal of his was a lot less noble and a bit selfish and it was a goal that a lot of dreamers across all the worlds had in common. The goal, that he had in his mind since his last life, was to travel around all the unique locations of the world but sadly he passed away before he could do that, but now that he had a new chance in this life in a world that was even more exotic and mysterious than the precious one he desired it even more and he wasn't going to let it pass through his hands this time.

He had been working very hard for his second goal and his dream over the last few years. He was of course talking about the fleet of ships he commanded which he hoped to someday enlarge enough to create a shipping company sometime in the future. And while he could have gone for the solo route and just taken off on any random ship to Bravoos or Pentos with a few gold dragons, that would have likely been a very short trip for him with
him probably ending dead behind some bar somewhere in Essos considering how dangerous this world is.

So he had decided to go for the safer and more complex route to achieve his dream of travelling the world which would not only provide him with a lot of money it would also help him with his first goal as anyone with even a bit of knowledge about history could tell you that whoever had bigger and better fleet would prevail in most wars and situations.

And finally the last but definitely not the least one, was to somehow survive the White Walkers and their hordes of walking dead. And this goal was the one that had left him stumped for a long time as he had had no idea how to even go about countering a magical zombie. And the only thing he could think about for a long time was to just buy a lot of obsidian from Dragonstone and to create a shit ton of spearheads and arrowheads from them.

So while he knew he would somehow have to remove and reduce the number of bodies available to the Walkers beyond the wall, he had no idea how. As one thing he was sure about was that the moment any of the wildling leaders even took a glimpse of him they would kill him first before they would ask any questions.

The moment Jon had realised who he had inadvertently stumbled upon, a bolt of lightning went through his brain and almost immediately he was bombarded by a lot of ideas on how to work through his third goal, all of which had the teen girl, sister of Mance Rayder's wife, as the middleman. He had almost immediately decided that he would have to somehow bind her to his cause and make her help him.

So Jon had somehow managed to persuade Val that if she somehow managed to defeat him or Dacey in a single combat in the yard, he would bring her over the wall and deliver her safely to her sister. And considering that she knew that she likely wouldn't survive the journey to the wall and over it alone she didn't have much of a choice but of course, she had him take an oath in front of the old gods before she believed him.

"Y'know..." A voice interrupted Jon as he was lost in his thoughts, "They won't be the last ones to ask, Boy. And you can't intimidate all of them with extra training,"

Jon turned to Maege who came to stand beside him and said with a smirk, "We'll see about that,"

Maege just rolled her eyes at his cheekiness and asked nonchalantly, "So... did you really take a liking to her because if you did then I need to tell you that you're still a bit young for things like these—"

"Seriously... Even you!!" Jon interrupted with a scoff.

"I am just asking, Boy," Maege said with a raised eyebrow not at all bothered by his frustration.

"Maybe... I just took pity on her and decided that she didn't to die after all," Jon said with a shrug as he couldn't exactly tell her that he wanted her to be a go-to between the people on the other side of the Wall and that if it went according to his plans then there would be a lot more wildlings to deal with than just this one.

"As if..." The Mother-Bear scoffed his excuse away with a scoff and said, "And I wouldn't really care about if Lord Stark hadn't left you in my care otherwise how would I explain to my liege that he somehow became a grandfather suddenly at that young age—"

"W-What?" Jon spluttered with a red face at the insinuation. While he was somewhat older mentally his body was at that age where it would even blush at the slightest mention of birds and bees.

"SO..." Maege raised her voice over his sputtering, "I need to make sure that you're not taking the wrong path or something like that," she took up her mace while speaking and walked into the nearby ring and said to him after raising her weapon in a challenge, "Now, show me if you're tuff enough to be a man,"

'Of course, she would decide that with a duel,' Jon thought sarcastically but he went to pick up a practice sword smilingly as the one thing he was confident about was his battle prowess so he came in front of her and answered her, "With Pleasure!"

....

After a gruelling training session in the yard, Jon wearily pushed open the door to his room. Instantly, his fatigued expression transformed into one of delight as his gaze fell upon a magnificent snow eagle perched on his window sill, delicately preening her feathers. With a few quick strides, Jon crossed the room and greeted the majestic bird with a warm smile. "Hey there, girl. Do you have a letter for me?"

The snow eagle nodded, gracefully extending her talons to reveal a tied scroll. Jon deftly untied it and placed a small bowl of water before the bird, who gratefully began drinking. Finally, Jon turned his attention to the letter in his hands.

It was a substantial missive, consisting of multiple pages. The first one bore his father's distinctive handwriting, replying and giving him permission to negotiate any deal in the Reach that he felt would be beneficial to the North. He was particularly forceful in telling him to be careful of Olenna Tyrell. He even urged him not to go in front of her at all if he could help it as he felt that she was too astute and cunning and if she somehow managed to
find out about his parentage then it would be a disaster.

Eddard had revealed Jon's parentage during one of his previous visits to Winterfell when he realised and saw Jon doing things that would leave most of the adults in the North stumped. So when Jon asked him for his Mother's identity nonchalantly one day, Eddard felt secure enough to tell him about it as he judged that Jon knew the danger associated with it and that he wouldn't blurt it out the next person in a fit of rage or excitement to
prove that he wasn't a bastard.

The subsequent letters came from Robb, updating Jon on the happenings around Winterfell. Robb mentioned the progress of the factory, his improvement in the training yard, and his lessons with Emily, who was teaching him the art of warging in Jon's absence. Robb concluded the letter with a playful challenge, inviting Jon to visit soon so that he could finally beat him in the yard.

The following letters carried a similar tone, each written by Sansa, Arya, and Emily. Sansa expressed her gratitude in an elegant script for the silk dress Jon had sent her from Lannisport. Arya's note, though shorter and messier, implored Jon to bring her an assortment of sweets, swords, and perhaps even a unicorn— but he couldn't be too sure as the word were too crooked.

Emily's had been about how she was coming along and how she was having trouble keeping Becca and Arya in line and how Old Mark was doing as well as how little Tom had finally managed to warg into a small tomcat.

As the snow eagle soared back toward Winterfell, Jon reread the letters with a contented smile. His reverie was interrupted by a knock on the door. Jon placed the letters safely in his desk drawer and invited the visitor inside.

"Come in."

Tara the maid from Reach entered the room, gracefully bowing before meeting Jon's gaze and presenting him with another letter. "I finished writing the letter, Jon, just as you asked."

"Ah... Thank you for that," Jon replied, accepting the letter. He could see that it was addressed to the Tyrells in Highgarden, located in the Reach.

They would be leaving for the trip to Reach in a few days so Jon had asked her to write a letter to Lady Alerie or Olenna or whoever was in charge of her so that she could explain the circumstances in which he had found them so they wouldn't be too worried or surprised when he showed up on their shore with the two people who had probably been missing for a while now.

Tara lingered for a moment, her curiosity getting the better of her. Observing Jon placing the letter on his desk, she hesitated before inquiring, "But Jon... How do you plan to send that letter? I wasn't aware that anyone on this side of the North had a raven from the Reach available on hand,"

Jon's lips curled into a mysterious smile as he responded, "Oh, don't worry about that. I have my ways."

Tara left the room at that with one more puzzle in her mind about the Bastard of Winterfell who was like an onion, with too many layers and secrets.

...

A few days passed, and Jon found himself seated on his bed, his luggage neatly packed beside him. The preparations for their journey were underway, and their ships for the trip were being loaded at that very moment, and Jon was supposed to be there to supervise it but he had left the work midway to hurry back to his room.

Once safely inside, he sat on the edge of his bed and closed his eyes to warg inside Frost with the full focus of his mind for the first time in a while because he needed to do something special this time.

When Jon finally opened his eyes again, he was greeted by a picturesque view of clear blue skies, lush greenery, fertile crop fields, and meandering rivers—the stunning landscape of the Reach. Frost soared above the clouds, following the path of the Mander River. It didn't take long for the magnificent and captivating Highgarden to come into view.

Perched on a broad, verdant hill overlooking the River Mander, Highgarden boasted three concentric rings of white stone walls. The crenellated curtain walls increased in height as one ventured further inward. Nestled between the outer and middle walls was the renowned briar labyrinth, which served as entertainment for House Tyrell in this age but was probably made by the House Gardeners to slow down invaders.

Jon didn't immediately fly into the castle with his message as Frost's size and uniqueness would probably give some poor maid or Maester a heart attack, instead, he wandered through the surrounding trees until he discovered a suitable raven perched among the branches.

Silently and skillfully, Jon guided Frost to land on the crown of the tree without disturbing a single leaf. After they were close enough Jon focused with all his might and tried the relatively new skill that he had figured out a few months ago and only practised a few times.

He sent a weak mental wave using Frost as the tower towards the Raven, it took him a few tries but eventually, he managed to find the small consciousness of the Raven. The Raven in question was immediately startled by the intrusion and squawked and flitted about on the branch with its gaze darting anxiously. Fortunately, Jon swiftly used his mental influence to calm the raven, sending reassuring thoughts that settled the bird within seconds.

'Oh... It worked,' Jon thought with relief when his new skill which he called 3G warging worked as he didn't have that much confidence in it.

With newfound confidence, he had Frost glide over to the branch where the raven perched. Placing the letter carefully in the raven's claws, Jon then took the raven for a brief trial flight. After a few initial hiccups, the bird
obediently followed Jon's instructions, soaring smoothly through the air. With the letter secure, Jon had the new messenger immediately fly towards the castle's rookery.

At that moment, Jon found himself engaged in a delicate form of multitasking. His mind was divided into three unequal parts: the largest portion remained within his physical body, dormant; the second largest resided within Frost's mind, coexisting with the majestic creature; and the faintest connection lingered within the raven. The strain on Jon's mind was immense, making it impossible to sustain for an extended period.

Warging into an unfamiliar raven felt distinctly different from his experiences with Frost, Pegasus, or Tiger. When he connected with those familiar companions, it felt as though their minds had developed a comfortable space to accommodate him over the years. It was akin to slipping into a cosy pair of shoes. However, with this raven, it felt as though he was attempting to squeeze his foot into the shoe of a three-year-old—only managing to fit in a single toe and having to awkwardly walk with that. Despite the limitations, he could still issue simple commands, such as "fly left," "fly right," "land," or "grab that." Fortunately, for the task at hand, these instructions proved
sufficient.

Within a short time, the raven arrived at the castle's rookery—a significantly larger one compared to Winterfell's, but then again it was probably because the Southerners were a lot more talkative and gossipy than the Northerners.

Inside, Jon spotted a lone figure, dressed in the attire of an acolyte, diligently copying a book.

Directing the raven toward the acolyte's desk, Jon had the bird promptly drop the letter in front of him. Startled by the sudden appearance of the raven, the acolyte exclaimed, "Wah... Where did you come from— Wait! Don't run away!"

The acolyte made a swift motion, attempting to capture the raven, but the bird effortlessly evaded his grasp, flying toward the window after successfully delivering the letter. Perplexed, the acolyte muttered, "What a stupid raven," before refocusing his attention on the letter. Recognizing the sender's name as the missing maid atop the parchment, he immediately dashed out of the room, shouting, "Maester!"

 

[LazyWizard]

*Sniff*Sniff*

Olenna, frustrated by their continuous tears, uttered for the umpteenth time, "Enough with the crying already!" Her words seemed as ineffective as a Septa preaching in the bustling market. Rather than calming down, their loud wails had transformed into quiet sobs, as if Olenna was being unkind to them.

Ever since they received the devastating news that their ships, sent to acquire Starkhorses, had been intercepted by Ironborn pirates, Margery and Alerie hadn't ceased crying. The only reason they even found out about it was that one of the young sailors somehow managed to survive by jumping onboard and making it onshore and travelling day and night to bring them the news.

Margery was taking all the blame on herself while Alerie was just making herself miserable while thinking about all the cruel things that the Ironborn could do to her favourite maid, Tara and little Alla who she had raised as her second daughter after she lost her mother at a tender age.

"It's alright, M-Marge," Alerie hiccuped, attempting to remain strong for her daughter. "I believe the Seven will protect them and prevent any harm. I'll light a candle in the Sept day and night, praying for the Warrior to shield them and the Crone to guide them home," she murmured to herself while gently rubbing her daughter's back.

They had all gathered in Olenna's room, which was adorned with delicate floral tapestries that hung from the walls, depicting the vibrant beauty of the surrounding gardens. The air was filled with a soft fragrance of roses, carried in through the open windows that overlook the lush countryside.

Warm sunlight cast a gentle glow on the polished wooden floors and elegant furniture was arranged neatly, with plush armchairs and a comfortable sofa forming a cosy seating area. The cushions and upholstery were decorated in a palette of soft pastel colours, reflecting the grace and femininity of the Tyrell family.

Olenna was sitting regally in a high-backed chair, her piercing eyes looking at Alerie and Margery with faces of sorrow as tears streamed down their cheeks. Young Margery, at the tender age of thirteen, sat on the sofa with her mother, her youthful features marked with grief.

Her brown curls cascade over her shoulders, framing her cherubic face. Her eyes, usually sparkling with mischief and curiosity, are now red and puffy from crying. Her petite frame was trembling with emotion as she clutched a handkerchief tightly in her small hands.

"B-But it's my f-fault that they were hurt..." Little Margery uttered, her voice small and sniffly. "If I hadn't wanted 'it,' nothing would have happened."

"Nonsense," Olenna interjected sharply, preventing Alerie from soothing her daughter's worries. "It is in no way your fault."

"But I—"

"Did you command the attack on their ships?" Olenna questioned before Margery could even respond.

"No," Margery replied, her eyes reddened and her beautiful brown locks dishevelled, devoid of their usual adornments.

"Did you possess prior knowledge of the impending attack?"

"No—"

"Then it is not your fault at all," Olenna stated forcefully, her tone softening somewhat. "Traveling by sea always carries a certain degree of danger, and they simply encountered the misfortune of crossing paths with those accursed pirates."

"But we don't know if they are dead, do we?" a voice suddenly interjected from beside the window, capturing their attention. They all turned to look at Loras, the fourteen-year-old who had arrived half an hour earlier, still dressed in his sweaty training clothes. "We can still save them if we try, can't we?"

Olenna sighed and patiently addressed her youngest grandson, "And how do you propose we save them?"

"We should gather all of our forces and attack them immediately," Loras said waving his hands as if he had a sword and was about to lead an attack on the Ironborn.

"And whom, exactly, would you attack, my dear grandson?" Olenna asked, calmly consuming a piece of cheese from the table before her. Her tone carried a hint of condescension, but Loras was too caught up in his excitement to notice.

"The Ironborn, of course," Loras replied, standing up from his position by the window. He began speaking rapidly, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. "We can rally our soldiers, knights, and horses. I'm sure the Redwyne cousins would lend us some of their ships. Then we could swiftly sail to the Iron Islands—"

"Seven Hells! He's becoming more and more like his father," Olenna muttered under her breath. She interrupted her hyperactive grandson and spoke louder, her eyes closed as she massaged her forehead. "As I just asked, who specifically are you planning to attack?"

"Um... the Ironborn," Loras repeated, his confidence wavering upon seeing his grandmother's expression. He sensed he had made a misstep.

"I'm asking you to be specific among the Ironborn," Olenna continued, her piercing gaze fixed upon Loras. "Do you realize that there is an entire kingdom of islands teeming with them? The Greyjoys, the Blacktydes, Botleys, Drumms, Goodbrothers, Greyirons, Harlaws, or any of the dozen others? So, who do you intend to attack?"

"Maybe... the Greyjoys?" Loras replied tentatively, shrinking back at the sight of his grandmother's stern face. Fortunately for him, his sister interjected, lifting her head from their mother's embrace and speaking softly, "You can't do that..."

"And can you explain to him why not, Margaery?" Olenna inquired, her tone significantly calmer than with Loras.

"B-Because that would violate the King's peace," Margaery hesitated at first, her voice growing steadier as she continued, "And we lack any evidence that could justify an attack on a great house to present to the King."

"Finally! Someone in this family possesses some common sense," Olenna exclaimed, her voice filled with exaggerated relief. "I swear, if it were left to you and your father, this family would perish within weeks..." She turned to Loras, who was desperately trying to inch his way out of the room, seeking escape from his formidable grandmother.

An urgent knock resounded from behind the door, prompting Alerie to swiftly say, "Come in!" in an effort to spare her son from further scrutiny by his grandmother.

"My Lady... Hahh... Hahh..." Maester Lomys entered the room, gasping for breath as if he had sprinted all the way from his rookery. He attempted to convey a message but instead doubled over, breathing heavily as if on the verge of collapse.

"Ah, give me the letter," Olenna impatiently interjected, rising from her seat and snatching the letter from the maester's outstretched hand. "We'll all die of old age before you catch your breath," she remarked, opening the letter swiftly.

The maester appeared slightly offended, but Olenna paid him no mind as her eyes scanned the contents of the letter. Her expression transformed from annoyance to surprise, and her eyebrows raised as she finished reading.

"What is it, Mother?" Alerie asked, curiosity brimming in her voice.
Olenna didn't even bother correcting her and said in an impressed tone, "It seems your Gods heard you... They survived,"

"W-Who?" Alerie asked, her breath caught in anticipation.

"Both of them," Olenna said, settling back into her comfortable chair with a groan. "It seems they were miraculously rescued by a Northerner ship from Bear Island. They are currently there."

"Really..." Alerie and Margery exclaimed in unison, their eyes glistening with unshed tears. As Olenna nodded in confirmation, a mixture of relief and joy washed over them. They embraced tightly, their tears finally flowing freely.

"Thank the Seven!" Alerie exclaimed.

"I am so glad!" Margery added, their voices filled with genuine gratitude.

Tara had been Alerie's closest confidante, while Alla had become like a sister to Margery. The news of their survival brought immense relief to both of them.

Amidst their celebration, Loras, who had lingered near the door, spoke up in confusion, "But why would those barbarians save them?"

"Don't call them that," Margery fiercely retorted, and Loras sweated when he saw his sister have the same expression as his grandmother had a minute ago, "They saved Alla, so they must be good people,"

"The more pressing question is," Olenna interjected thoughtfully, "How did they come across them? I wasn't aware that they possessed fleets or ships on this side of the sea." She turned to the maester, who had regained his breath by now.

"No, my lady," the maester responded, shaking his head and adjusting his chain. "There hasn't been any notable naval presence in the North on the western side since Bran the Burner burned his fleet when his father, Bran the Shipwright, disappeared in Sunset Sea. So they should not have any ships available there other than the small fishing ones... at least not the ones capable of going against the Ironborn,"

"Hmm... That does make it intriguing," Olenna mused, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. "Perhaps the silent wolf is doing something behind the scenes without anyone being aware..."

"When is she coming here, Grandma? Should we send ships to bring her back? I've heard it's bitterly cold there. What if she falls ill?" Margery anxiously inquired, her questions pouring out one after another.

"No need to worry about sending ships," Olenna reassured them, waving her hand dismissively. "It appears that he intends to bring them home himself."

"That is good news," Alerie remarked, a smile brightening her face.

"That is remarkably generous of him," the maester chimed in unexpectedly. "In fact, I would venture to say that he's being overly generous."

"Who is he?" Margery asked, curiosity evident in her voice.

"Jon Snow," Olenna absentmindedly replied, her attention drifting. "Tara mentioned in her letter that he was the captain of the ship that rescued them, and he's the one who will escort them back."

"He's a bastard," Loras sneered, wrinkling his nose in disgust, "Maybe he's looking for money and he's hoping that we're generous enough to give him a reward,"

"If I'm not mistaken, he is Lord Stark's bastard, conceived during the war," Maester Lomys interjected with a shrug. "Although he would be too young to hold the position of ship captain, so he might be someone else."

"Well, we'll find out when he arrives in approximately..." Olenna glanced at the maester expectantly.

"It should take them around three weeks, considering their departure on the day they sent the letter and favourable winds," the maester confidently estimated.

"Then we shall discover his true identity in three weeks' time," Olenna declared, a hint of anticipation colouring her tone.

Unbeknownst to them, their entire conversation had been heard by an unassuming raven that was sneakily hidden by the window.

...

In his room in Bear Islands, Jon opened his eyes with a deep breath as he adjusted to his own body after being in three bodies for that long for the first time. He had ordered Frost to fly back home which shouldn't take her too long considering her speed.

'That was a very interesting conversation,' Jon thought to himself with a small smile.

He hadn't intended to eavesdrop from the start but when the Maester immediately started running towards the Tyrells after he received the letter he was too curious to stop himself and followed after him. And while it felt somewhat wrong to listen in on someone's private conversation, he was glad he got to see what the Tyrells looked like and what their personalities were in real life and different it was from the books.

A sudden knock on the door interrupted Jon's thoughts. He stood up from his bed, shaking his legs which had fallen asleep from sitting cross-legged, and manoeuvred around his chest filled with luggage. One of his earliest crew members, who was not only the tallest but also one of the most fierce warriors on his ship.

"The ships are ready to take off. We're only waiting for you, Captain,"

"The ships are ready to set sail. We're only waiting for you, Captain," Harold informed him.

"Let's go then," Jon replied, leaving his luggage for Harold to handle. He made his way out of the Mormont castle and headed for the docks. The sight that greeted Jon at the port was truly mesmerizing.

Fifteen ships were docked and loaded, a number that likely set a record in the history of Bear Island. Although it wasn't apparent from the outside, most of the ships were filled to their maximum capacity with Stark horses and other Northern goods like furs and honey. These items could fetch a profitable price in the southern markets.

Jon spotted Maege standing on the port, her gaze fixed on the ships as they prepared to depart. He approached her and stood by her side, asking, "Done saying your farewells to Dacey?"

Maege grunted affirmatively, her eyes still fixed on the ships. After a moment, she spoke again, her tone contemplative. "Don't you think you're taking too many of them at once?"

"Well, it will be our first trip to the Reach," Jon shrugged. "I've heard tales of how everyone there, from farmers to blacksmiths, is prosperous. I don't want to fall short in meeting the demand later on."

"I see," Maege responded, her scepticism evident, as the ships took back their planks after every's ships crew had boarded them except for the biggest one which was Jon's ship.

"And I wanted to take some extra so that we can sell the leftovers at the Lannisport on the way back,"

"Huh..." Maege finally turned to him and asked with a raised eyebrow, "Didn't you say you wanted to limit the number of Starkhorses you sent there for a while because you wanted them to realise the quality difference or something like that,"

"Oh that," Jon said with a smile, "Well I think that they've learned about the quality of our quality so I think that it's finally time to ramp up the supply,"

The "quality difference" Jon referred to was one of the primary reasons he had been cautious about selling Stark horses in the Westerlands. In a world without patents, there was no way to prevent others from copying a successful product, which meant that as soon as something new was invented, imitators would try to capitalize on the profits.

So there are only a few ways that you can safeguard a lucrative product and maintain a competitive edge without getting taken over by copycats, one way would be to go the way of Myr.

The best glass and lenses, and telescopes called Myrish eyes, come from Myr, and lenscrafters from Myr are considered to be without equal in all the world. And one of the main reasons they've been able to do so is that the Masters there have been able to keep their recipes a secret so tight that even the mighty Bravoos with all the money at their disposal hadn't been able to find it.

Alternatively, one could adopt a strategy akin to that of Reach, where complete control over the resources required for the product was maintained. The Reach excelled in producing exceptional wines, largely because they controlled the cultivation of grapes, the essential ingredient.

Jon had chosen the latter path. He had anticipated that people would eventually attempt to replicate his cycles, and he was proven right when, shortly after their introduction in Lannisport, he witnessed several nobles making futile attempts to recreate the product through Frost's eyes.

Knowing this from the beginning, Jon had devised a solution during the years he spent focusing on the creation and improvement of the product. The Stark horses produced in the North utilized a unique type of wheel crafted from a tree known as the offshoot of Ironwood, as well as bark from the Rubber tree. Since both of these resources were primarily found in the North, only they possessed the means to produce such wheels.

Jon patiently waited, and as expected, all those who attempted to manufacture their own Stark horses failed. Their products proved to be inferior—bulky, fragile, and difficult to ride. Thus, Jon could confidently introduce his products to the market, knowing that people would recognize the superiority of the Northern-made ones.

"What are you waiting for, Jon?" Dacey called out from the deck of his ship, waving her hand. "Let's go!"

"Coming!" Jon shouted back, waving in response. He turned to Maege, shaking her hand. "I'll see you in a few weeks or months."

"Yeah, don't get lost at sea," Maege grumbled, rejecting his handshake and opting for a hug instead.

"You know my 'secret.' I'll never get lost at sea," Jon replied with a wink, walking away with a smile.

Jon boarded his ship, and a few minutes later, all the vessels departed one after another from the port, embarking on their longest journey yet.

...

A few hours later just as the sun was about to set and Jon and Dacey were in the midst of discussing their schedule for the upcoming week, Jon suddenly stopped speaking mid-sentence and suddenly said, "It seems we have an unwanted guest abroad,"

"What!—Who?" Dacey asked while looking around vigilantly, they were on the front deck of the ship and all the crew was out there joking, playing games, drinking and passing their time before it got dark.

"Bryan," Jon called out to a nearby young boy, instead of answering Dacey. "Go to our storage room and stand in front of the second barrel to the right. Loudly announce that Jon is calling for you." The young crew member looked at Jon with confusion and bewilderment, as if Jon was speaking a foreign language. However, Jon simply said, "Just do it," without providing any further explanation, and the boy complied.

It wasn't long before he came back with a confused expression on his face and following behind him was a very reluctant Val who seemed to have stolen Dacey's leathers which were a bit big for her.

"That's all, Bryan. You can go now," Jon said, and the boy scurried away, eyeing Val in awe of her beauty. Val, in turn, gave him a fierce look, which promptly scared him off. Jon observed her for a moment before calmly asking, "What are you doing here?"

"How did you find me?" Val sullenly responded, evading his question.

"That's not the main point," Jon replied, while thinking about his favourite rat that was wandering around the ship at all times and was also an excellent scout and guard, "The main point is, what were you even hoping to accomplish by getting on board,"

"I thought I would jump aboard when we pass by the True North," She said gritting her teeth, while looking away angrily at getting caught.

"That's not how sea travel works," Jon explained, massaging his temples. "We are heading in the opposite direction, toward the South."

Val stared at him, mouth agape as if she hadn't considered that before. She closed her mouth and stubbornly retorted, "I don't care, you stole me first so I am going to stay here until you get me home,"

"I didn't steal you—and Stop laughing Dacey!" Jon scolded his best friend, who looked away but couldn't hide her shaking shoulders. Jon then turned his attention back to the problem in front of him,

"We can't turn back now, so you'll have to remain on the ship."

Almost instantly, Val's face lit up at the prospect of embarking on an adventure. However, Jon swiftly extinguished her fantasies. "But if you want to be on this ship, you'll need to work for it."

"What kind of work?" Val asked cautiously.

"Well, we'll start with the basics that all novices go through," Jon declared, an evil smile creeping onto his face.

"And what would that be?"

"Scrubbing the floors, of course."
...

 

[LazyWizard]

"I see it! I see it!" The little girl's excitement was palpable as she jumped on the ship's deck, pointing towards the group of islands emerging with the dawn. The familiar sight of the Shield Islands, known as the protective barrier of Reach, stirred a mix of emotions within Tara. Overwhelmed with relief, she almost crumbled under its weight. "It's home, isn't it, Tara? Tara!"

"Yes, it is," Tara replied, her voice filled with warmth as she affectionately rubbed Alla's head. With a sweet smile, she repeated, "It is home."

Accusingly, yet playfully, Alla said, "You were wrong, weren't you? You said it would take us three weeks to reach home, but I counted every day, and I know only two weeks have passed."

"Yes, I suppose," Tara replied, forcing a smile as she glanced back at Jon who had swiftly started delivering orders to his crew the moment he had spotted the Islands from afar.

When she had estimated it would take them three weeks for their journey from Bear Islands, she hadn't been too conservative and had considered that the fastest time however, Jon had managed to defy her expectations.

No matter how she pondered it, the distance they had covered in under two weeks seemed absurd. She had witnessed their swiftness on her previous trip, but it still left her dumbfounded. Their ship wasn't particularly special, nor did they employ unique sails or any extraordinary techniques. In fact, considering the amount of cargo they carried, they were slower than her previous voyage. The only explanation she could find was that their ship sailed ceaselessly, day and night, with unwavering confidence in its course. It was akin to traversing a well-established path through a forest, rather than wandering without a clear direction.

Another observation struck her mind—how they rarely made stops at ports along the way, unlike conventional ships. They only made two stops: one at Flint's Finger a few days after the journey began, and then they somehow completely skipped the Iron Islands, only halting at Faircastle, a renowned port in the Westerlands. Moreover, these stops were brief, merely to replenish supplies within a few hours before resuming their voyage.

The weather was another factor to consider. They encountered fierce storms multiple times, which was expected during a sea voyage but somehow someway their captain was always able to bypass them by a long way by either changing their path in advance or by anchoring their ships at a nearby shore just before it hit them and they were able to watch the tempestuous rain and dark clouds receding in the opposite direction from a safe distance.

It was as if he had a set of eyes in heaven that was looking out for him and always telling him about the coming weather in advance. Tara had heard that some of the more veteran old navigators were somehow able to predict a storm about half a day in advance by looking at the clouds with a far eye and feeling the wind. But to avoid them completely was supposed to be impossible.

Lost in her thoughts, Tara was interrupted by Jon's approach. He stood beside her, gazing at the approaching port. "I'll need your assistance for the next part," he stated, nodding towards the harbour.

"W-What, my lord?" Tara inquired, tilting her head in confusion.

"I don't anticipate them easily allowing such a sizable fleet into the Mander," Jon explained, glancing at the ships trailing behind them. "Considering our ships have never ventured into this part of the sea, it would be advantageous to have a familiar face accompany me when we meet the port master, ensuring we aren't mistaken for an undesirable group."

Understanding his concerns, Tara nodded immediately. "Don't worry, my lord. I know the port master here. There won't be any problem."

"Excellent," Jon replied, offering a small smile. He then turned his attention to little Alla and asked, "Are you excited, Alla?"

"Yes! I can't wait to meet Margery," Alla exclaimed, her face lighting up as she bombarded Jon with stories. "She's my best friend, and we always play..."

Tara observed their interaction with a gentle smile before turning her gaze towards the islands ahead. The Sheild Islands, commonly called the Sheilds were one of the most important protection the Reach had against the Ironborn. They were located in the Sunset Sea just west of Highgarden and were charged with always protecting the Mander.

Whenever any sign of longships sporting an IronIslands flag appears, elder in the watchtowers light their beacon fires, which in turn cause the other watch towers to burn their own beacons and spread the warning to the settlement further inland so that they wouldn't be caught unawares.

...

"Would you please slow down, Marge?" Willas called out to his sister with a sigh. But the happy girl flitted from one stall merchant to the next without showing any mercy for her big brother, who was following behind her like a money bag.

Margery was in an exceptionally jubilant mood, a complete turnaround from the sombre expression she had carried a few weeks ago. And that was to be expected since she had received the news that her best friend, whom she had grown up with, had miraculously been rescued by a Northern ship.

Ever since then, she had been coming to the market at the port in Highgarden, sifting through the merchants that passed by every day, hoping to find an appropriate gift for her returning friend. Her sneaking glances at the ships in the port, searching for any Northern vessels, couldn't go unnoticed.

Willas finally caught up to her when she was rummaging through a cloth shop. After quenching his thirst with water from a bag carried by a knight guarding them, he asked his sister in an exasperated tone, "Isn't it too early for you to be this excited? There's still more than a week left until Alla gets home."

"I know that," she replied while pointing at a blue dress for the shopkeeper to show her. "But I want to show them my appreciation and apologize for the suffering they had to go through because of me." Her expression turned sad at the end.

"That is very kind of you, Marge," Willas said with a smile as they left the shop, with another dress now carried by the knight behind them. Seeing his little sister being so mature filled him with pride that only an older brother could understand.

As they passed through an intersection, a loud shriek of "Margery" came from nearby. Before Margery could even turn around, she was suddenly hit by a small body with a head full of brown hair, similar to her own. Before she could make sense of the situation, the person started crying while hugging her tightly. "I missed you so much, Margery... Waah..."

"Alla! Is that you, Alla?" Margery exclaimed in astonishment, which immediately stopped Willas and the knight who were about to intervene. "It's really you!" she said and started hugging the little girl tightly as her shock turned to jubilance. The girls started jumping round and round, laughing and crying tears of happiness.

"Alla, where did you come from?" Willas was about to ask her to make sense of the situation when a few more people joined them. "Tara!"

"Lord Willas," she courtesied professionally, but she couldn't hide the joyful tears in her eyes. "I can't tell you how good it is to see you, My Lord."

"I am happy to see you too, Tara," Willas said, wanting to embrace the woman who had raised him along with his mother as her maid. Instead, he settled for squeezing her shoulder warmly before asking her in confusion,

"But I thought it would take you a while to get here. How did you get here so fast?"

"Maybe the gods wanted them to reach their homes sooner since we had good weather all the way," said a man who had been standing just behind Tara, accompanied by a tall woman. The woman looked at home in her leathers, with a small Morningstar at her waist. The man was handsome enough, with curly hair and grey eyes that gave him an air of elegance despite wearing simple black clothes.

"You are..."

Tara immediately came forward and introduced them, "This is Jon Snow, the natural-born son of Lord Stark, and," she turned her hand towards the other person, "this is Dacey Mormont, the daughter of Maege Mormont, Lady of Bear Island."

"Ah... Jon Snow," Willas exclaimed, shaking Jon's hand. "Tara wrote about you in her letter. I must admit, you look a lot older than your actual age."

"I get that a lot, my lord."

"Call me Willas," he said with a gentle smile. "Not only did you save people who are precious to House Tyrell, but you also went to great lengths to get them home safely. House Tyrell is in your debt, Jon."

"You're too kind, my lord," Jon said, waving away the gratitude with a small smile. "I just did what any good man would have done in my place—"

"Then there are too few good men in Westeros, Ser," Margery suddenly inserted herself, giving Jon a blinding smile. "I am Margery Tyrell, Ser Jon."

She raised her hand toward Jon, who took it with perfect courtesy and kissed the back of her hand gently before saying, "I had heard a lot about your beauty from little Alla, but I must say she was wrong about it." Margery tilted her head in confusion before Jon continued with a grin, "You're even more beautiful than she said."

"Thank you, Ser," Margery said with a sweet smile and a cute blush, while little Alla jumped in with a cheeky smile and said, "I told you she was pretty."

"Call me Jon, since I am not a knight."

While Jon was getting acquainted with Margery, Tara was introducing Willas to Dacey. Willas suddenly turned to them and said in a formal tone, tapping his cane, "Jon, Lady Mormont, I would love to host you at our castle of Highgarden so that we can properly bestow upon you the courtesy you deserve and honour you for the service you have rendered to House Tyrell."

They exchanged glances with each other before Jon said with a troubled smile, "There is no need to go through so much trouble for us, my lord. We have already booked a good inn recommended by Tara." He continued quickly when he saw Willas about to counter him, "And besides, we are here on a business trip, so it would be more convenient for us to stay near the port."

"That would not do," Willas shook his head firmly. "It would be a disgrace as a Tyrell if we didn't properly repay you for all you've done."

Eddard had only asked a single thing of him on this trip and that was to stay away from Olenna Tyrell as much as he could and Jon didn't want to take the risk of going into the one place where he was sure to run into her, so he worked his mind and an idea quickly came to him that would make things a lot easier and quicker for him.

"You're giving us too much credit, but... if you insist on helping us, my lord, then there is one thing I could use your help with."

"Go on," Willas said, intrigued by what Jon was about to ask.

"I don't know if you've heard about it, but there is a special product from the North called Starkhorse..."

....

"Ladies and Gentleman of the reach, behold... THE STARKHORSE!!!"

The man's voice boomed with enthusiasm and excitement as he unveiled the product placed on the temporary platform in the middle of the busy street. The crowd erupted in awe and anticipation, captivated by the man's animated delivery as he skilfully heated the atmosphere with his excited voice, "This is an invention that is going to make your life countless times easier, it is going to save you so much time that it would feel like you got a second life..."

The man went on and on about the Starkhorse as if it was the god's gift and was the most wonderful invention after bread. He also talked about all the usual uses for the Starkhorse that he had perfected in the North, of course, he had tailored that marketing gimmick a little bit to suit the taste of the people of Reach according to his boss's instruction.

"And mark my words, my friends, the Reach will embrace the Starkhorse even more passionately than any other region in Westeros. Why, you may ask?" The man leaned in, building suspense, and the crowd eagerly shook their heads in anticipation. "Because the Reach boasts the finest roads in the entire realm, does it not?"

"Yes!" The crowd erupted in agreement, their voices blending into a resounding chorus.

"Now, for those eager to secure this marvel before supplies run out," the man announced, running his hands affectionately over the sleek wood of the Starkhorse, "Come forward swiftly, for our stock is limited, and who knows how long it will last!"

The crowd surged towards the tables and chairs positioned behind the platform, where Jon's crew awaited to take orders. The product was not placed here to save on the cost of renting a space but instead, the people who paid would get a token when they paid the total price after which they had to go to the docks to get their product which also saved Jon the cost of Transportation.

Above the bustling street, on the second floor of an inn, Jon and Willas watched the spectacle unfold from a spacious room with two windows, "I must say, you have quite a capable subordinate down there, " Willas said with an impressed tone, "Where did you even find him,"

"In a bar," Jon said with a shrug, he continued when he saw Willas look confused, "He was a singer in a bar but sadly he had no talent at singing but he was able to make ends meet somehow, Can you guess how?"

"No,"

"It's because he was funny and was a good storyteller," Jon said with a reminiscing smile, "His stories sometimes left them laughing their ass off and other times had them completely hooked, so they often forgot about his bad singing and tipped him generously. I immediately recognised his skill when I saw him for the first time so I persuaded him to use his talents elsewhere,"

"I must say, it's been quite some time since I've been this impressed with someone," Willas said while patting Jon's shoulder like an older brother.

"I am quite happy to hear that," Jon had taken a liking to the older man, he had an aura of intelligence about him and more importantly he was a good man, which was far too rare in this world, "I just hope that they can be impressed just as much," Jon said while looking at the people gathered around the other window.

On the left window of the room was a group of about ten people, three women and seven men, whispering amongst themselves while looking at the show below them intensely.

Even though none of them were of noble descent, it would be easy for people to distinguish them from common smallfolk, because every single one of them was wearing clothes and jewellery that just screamed wealth. They were the favour that he had asked from the Tyrell beside him and he had done a wonderful job of it by bringing most of the top merchants available in the area into a room in just a few days.

"So tell me, Miss Violet, did that—" Jon suddenly spoke while waving his hands towards the window, breaking the group from their discussions, "Assauge all your fears about them not selling as easily in the Reach,"

"Hehe..." The woman gave him what she thought was a coquettish smile and said, "I hope you don't take offence, My lord but as a woman in this business I need to be cautious about all my investments,"

"Of course," Jon nodded nonchalantly, the middle-aged woman was a ruthless brothel owner that had already used the gender card more than three times in the hour that he had known her so he knew better than to take anything she said at face value.

These people had been given the same speech that Bill had given to the crowd below, it's just that Jon's presentation had been a lot more subtle and sophisticated but since they were both written by him, the essence was the same. He too praised the Reach between his words softening them, as well as embellishing his products to high heavens with words like it would reduce the time of travelling by five times to reach the same destination as
well as it being ten times cheaper than a normal horse in the long run over the years considering the feed and care.

Basically, he had used all the marketing gimmicks he could think of from the modern world with all kinds of Bogus facts and calculations that they couldn't hope to verify even with a team of the brightest Maesters from Citadel.

But of course, it wouldn't be as easy as it was for his friend Bill down there since his audience was a lot shrewder and cunning than Bill's. They were all experienced merchants who wouldn't get carried away to buy things at their face value. So the moment Jon had finished his pitch all of them started taking turns in yanking the Starkhorse down, listing one disadvantage after the other in hopes of pulling the value down.

But Jon had decided from the beginning that he would be selling these here at ten times the price he sold them in the North. And the reason was simply that they could afford it.

Considering the technology in this world, one of the easiest ways to become rich would be either to sit on a gold mine or to have a lot of good farmlands. And while the Westerlands may have a lot of rich nobles, the
Smallfolks in Reach were a lot more wealthy than the ones in other kingdoms, so Jon wouldn't shy away from leeching them as much as he could.

So Jon had immediately taken these merchants to the window to show them a live demonstration of how popular his product could be and how easy it would be to sell them and make quick money. And he could see it in their faces that most of them were already sold on the idea.

"So are you all ready to place your orders?" Jon asked, breaking the silence and bringing their attention back to the matter at hand.

The oldest-looking man among the merchants calmly spoke up, addressing Jon, "My lord, the people down there were just caught in the excitement of seeing a new thing. I am sure that after they go home, most of them will realize that they spent a lot more than they intended and may come to regret buying it. So it would be hard to sell them at the price you're quoting after the furore dies down."

"Yes, My lord," Another one piped up immediately after, "Most of them would go back to preferring a normal horse,"

"It'll be hard for us to sell them unless you make it a bit more affordable,"

Jon knew that they just needed the last push before they bent completely so he looked out of the window and said, "Do you know what the best thing about Starkhorse is?"

"You already told us a lot of its advantages, My lord. I don't think another would make any difference—"

"Do you know who that person by the fountain is?"

All of them looked at the fountain in confusion to see a couple of kids jumping around while a girl rode the very product that was the topic of their discussion. A relatively younger female merchant who mainly dealt in clothes suddenly exclaimed, "Isn't that lady Margery?"

"You're right," Jon nodded with a smile, "She is indeed the famous Rose of the Reach. And do you know when she got that Starkhorse," Jon continued before anyone of them could answer, "Just this morning and she's already riding it quite skillfully, so what I am trying to say is that, anyone can learn to ride, from a ten-year-old commoner child to fifty-year-old farmer anyone can learn it in a few hours... Can you say the same for a normal horse?"

The scepticism in the room slowly transformed into greed as they envisioned the wide customer base they would have to sell their product to. The oldest merchant, who had been the most hesitant, finally stood up and said,
"I would like to place an order of 150 Starkhorses."

His decision caught the rest of the merchants off guard, and they looked at him with a mix of surprise and betrayal. It was easy to deduce from their expression that they had some kind of an agreement between them to not buy at all until he budged on the prices. However, a single crack in their united front shattered their strategy.

Jon swiftly took out a small notebook from his pocket and noted down the man's name, while the merchant paid the down payment. "I'll make sure you can gather your order from the ships at the port at any time."

It didn't take long for the second one to stand up, "I concede to you, My lord," Miss Violet said ruefully, "I think it would be the first time in my life that I am buying something without negotiating a lower price," she thought for a
moment before saying with a smile, "I'll take 200 of those if it pleases you,"

And like a domino, the rest of them started to fall in line one after the other and started shouting over each other to get their order first.

"I'll take 120,"

"I'll take 100,"

"Me 80,"

...

Finally, the last one of them, who was also the most hesitant, stood up, "I-I'll take fifty,"

"Ah, I am very sorry to say that you were too late, my friend," Jon apologized, causing the man's face to fall with regret. The other merchants beside him shamelessly gloated at his misfortune. "But don't worry too much, as it won't be too long before we arrive back with the next shipment. You need to be prepared for the next time."

After paying their down payments, the merchants quickly left the room, eager to get home and gather the rest of the money. They were aware of the advantage of being the first in the market with such an innovative product.

Only Jon, Willas, and the old merchant remained in the room. Jon put his notebook back in his breast pocket and smiled at the old man. "You did a very good job, Gary."

"I was just holding my end of the bargain, Milord."

"Don't worry," Jon reassured him, patting his shoulders. "You'll have a ten per cent discount on the market price with me."

"It was a pleasure doing business with you, Milord," the old merchant said, leaving the room with a skip in his steps.

"That was very smart of you," Willas said after they were alone in the room, "Buying an insider from the beginning. I think that alone earned you quite a few dragons,"

"It's just a trick I learned from my merchant friend," Jon replied modestly. "But I wouldn't have been able to do that if you didn't introduce me to—"

Before Jon could finish, the door abruptly swung open, and Dacey rushed in with an excited look on her face. "Jon, I saw them leaving—Ah I didn't see you, My Lord,"

"I was just leaving, Lady Mormont," Willas nodded politely and said to Jon with a satisfied sigh, "That was one of the most entertaining hours of my life, Jon. Thank you for that."

"I should be thanking you, my lord, for all the help you provided," Jon replied gratefully.

Willas waved away his gratitude and left the room with a nod to Dacey. Once alone, Dacey couldn't contain her excitement and leapt in front of Jon, asking breathlessly, "So?"

Jon decided to play along for a moment, hiding a smile. "So what?"

"Don't fuck with me here, Jon," Dacey said, "I am dying from suspense here, how much did we make?"

Jon rolled his eyes but he didn't keep her in agony for long and whispered the amount with a smug smile, "We made...10,000"

"HOW MUCH?!!"

"10,000 Dragons"

///

to read ahead: patreon.com/lazywizard

 

[LazyWizard]

Jon squinted as he stared at the scorching mid-day sun bearing down on his head. He cursed under his breath, determined to manoeuvre through the bustling crowd at the port near Highgarden as swiftly as possible. Rising early that morning, he had concluded his business and was now making his way back to the docks where his crew was likely still unloading Starkhorses.

'Seven Hells! I'd give anything for a little Northern snow right now,' he mused, sweat dripping profusely from his forehead. Having spent most of his new life in the North, his body had grown accustomed to the biting cold winds, making even the mild heat of the Reach unbearable. He couldn't even imagine what it would be like if he ever went to the dunes of Dorne, just the thought of it sent a shiver down his spine.

Finally catching sight of his two ships docked at the port, Jon's body sagged with relief. He didn't want to pay too much to the port master as dock fees so he didn't have all of his ships docked at the same time instead he had only his main ship docked at all times while the other ships took turns unloading their cargo before they went a bit away from the port to anchor themselves.

In the shade of his ship, Jon spotted Brian, one of the few literate members of his crew, diligently taking notes as workers unloaded Starkhorses onto a waiting wagon.

"Brian! How's it going?" Jon greeted him, joining him in the shade and letting out a sigh of relief. "Everything going smoothly with the deliveries?"

"Yes, Captain," Brian nodded while giving him a smile of sympathy at seeing him drenched in sweat. He gave the wooden slate on which he was taking notes to Jon and said, "This is the last ship being unloaded at the moment. Once it's finished, all our orders will be completed, and the ships will be empty."

"Hmm..." Jon nodded, quickly reviewing the entries on the slate before asking, "No issues with the remaining payments, I hope?"

"No, not at all," Brian shook his head before snorting. "In fact, they were practically fighting each other to be the first ones to pay, just to get their orders sooner. It was quite amusing, witnessing people so eager to part with their money."

"Get used to it, my friend. You'll be seeing more of that in the future," Jon reassured him, patting Brian's shoulder with a confident smile. Returning the slate, Jon glanced around and noticed someone missing, "By the way, Where's Dacey?"

Brian's face suddenly grew uncomfortable, and he pointed silently towards the main ship, avoiding eye contact.

"What's wrong?" Jon inquired.

"It's a bit difficult to explain," Brian shrugged, forcing a smile. "You'll have to see for yourself."

Puzzled by Brian's strange expression, Jon shook his head and headed towards the main ship, where most of his crew resided and kept watch.

Ascending the plank that connected to his ship, Jon exchanged greetings with two crew members on guard duty. When he inquired about Dacey's whereabouts, both of them gestured towards the captain's quarters, wearing the same odd expression as Brian.

Growing increasingly concerned, Jon realized that he hadn't seen Dacey since the meeting with the merchants. His early mornings and late nights, driven by an important task, had kept him away from her. He wondered if his
vice-captain had fallen ill after indulging in the spiced food and sweet wines of the southern region.

He found Dacey seated on a small stool outside the captain's room, her back turned towards him. Immediately, he sensed that something was amiss. She was whispering to herself, nodding her head as if possessed,
reminiscent of characters from the horror movies of his past world.

Aware of the existence of dark magic in this realm, such as Melisandre's sorcery, Jon felt a twinge of fear. Steeling himself, he cautiously approached Dacey and called out to her in a soft voice, "D-Dacey, are you alright?"
She appeared oblivious to his presence, prompting him to inch closer and touch her shoulder, gently attempting to turn her around. "Dacey, what's wrong—Oh, damn it! Shit! By the Seven Hells!"

In an instant, Jon stumbled backwards in fright as soon as he saw her face.

"Huh... Jon, when did you get back?" she asked, wearing a confused expression.

"Damn it! Dacey, what the hell happened to your face?" Jon exclaimed, his hand on his chest as he tried to calm himself.

"Hmm?" She tilted her head, puzzled by his reaction, and absentmindedly touched her face. The reason for Jon's alarm became clear—she had dark circles under her eyes the size of dumplings making her look like a panda
while her eyes were sporting more red than white and her hair was in complete disarray, all in all, she looked scary enough to give even Tywin Lannister a heart attack.

Dacey suddenly widened as she realised Jon was in front of her and she immediately pounced on him and started speaking in a rapid, frantic manner, "Jon! you're finally here! Where were you? Do you know how worried I
was?"

"Worried about what," Jon asked her while taking her hands from her shoulder and standing up. He was a bit embarrassed about getting scared by something so silly, thankfully no one else saw him fumbling or else his
reputation would go down the drain.

"The MONEY! Of course!" she shouted, her eyes wide with madness. "I can't sleep! I can't eat! I can't drink! I can't do anything! Every time I blink, all I can think about is the TEN THOUSAND dragons in that room. How can
you just leave it like that? Do you know how much money that is? Do you?"

"I think I do," Jon said with an amused smile, he finally understood the gist of the situation and why everyone was acting so weird, it seems that their vice-captain had gone a bit crazy from seeing so much gold for the first
time in her life.

"No, you don't! Do you know that it is more money than the whole of Bear Island earns in a couple of years? Years!" She began pacing frantically in front of him, "I keep thinking that someone's going to steal it or worse I'll
open my eyes and find that it was all a dream or the ship could somehow sink and then we'll have to dive down to get it back or—"

"Dacey! DACEY!" Jon seized her shoulders and shook her vigorously. "Calm down."

"Calm down? How can I possibly calm down?" She trembled, her voice filled with anxiety. "What if... What if... and you weren't here... and... Waaahhh!" Suddenly, she burst into tears, sobbing like a child.

Jon enveloped her in a comforting embrace, rubbing her back gently. "Shh... it's alright now. No one is going to steal it," he said as soothingly as he could before he pointed towards the door, "Look! I left one of my best
friends here." Gan, the little mouse, darted through the gap under the door and scurried towards them. "He has been guarding our gold at all times. If anyone tried to steal it, he would have alerted me immediately."

Dacey sniffled, her tears subsiding. "That's good, then," she muttered absentmindedly. After a moment, she added, "I think Mother will have a heart attack when she sees the money we made on this trip. Haha..."

Jon's expression turned slightly sheepish, and he coughed. "Ah... about that. I don't think she'll be able to see it for a while..."

"What! Why?"

"Hmm..." Jon thought for a few moments before he asked her, "What do think the Reach has in abundance that the North doesn't have?"

"Money! Lots and lots of money... Hehe..."

Jon rolled his eyes with a smile before he said, "Think again,"

"Umm... Is it food,"

"Exactly," Jon nodded enthusiastically, "

It's the peak of summer right now, and almost everyone in Reach had a wonderful harvest, every single farm is producing more crops than they know what to do with so are at their lowest. If we can grab onto this opportunity
then it would be a great boon for our home,"

The year was 294 AC which meant that summer had barely even started and it was supposed to be the longest summer in living history, there were 7 more years to go till 300 AC when winter arrives. So if they are able to
regularly supply the North with cheap corps from the Reach it would completely change the picture, it would be similar to the Green Revolution in his previous world.

And the most important part is that it would prepare the North for the grim future ahead. If they had enough food when the cold wind rises eventually, they wouldn't have to worry about feeding the people of the North or any
armies they host, so even if they have to fight the Walkers over a prolonged period, they won't have to worry about to dying of starvation first.

And that was what Jon had been up to for the last few days, he got up early in the morning before anyone else woke up and after renting a horse from the nearby market, he would try to travel to as many farms and cover as
much distance as he could so that he could compare the prices of all the corps available at the moment, and what he found about the prices had left him completely speechless.

"And most of their crops aren't the hardy ones like ours are so they have a small time limit before which they have to sell them whatever the price otherwise it'll all go to waste," Jon said with a glint in his eyes before he
smiled and asked, "Why don't you try and guess how much cheaper the price of grain here is?"

"Umm... Two times? Three times cheaper?" Dacey guessed randomly and when Jon still shook his head, she continued, "Five times? It can't be cheaper than that. Are you kidding me?"

"I am not. I have asked about the prices of almost every kind of crop available and I was shocked every single time," Jon said with a giddy smile, "Most of it is about TEN TIMES cheaper and some of the more abundant ones
go as far as fifteen times cheaper than they are in The North,"

"T-That's just absurd,"

"I know!" Jon nodded before his face took on a contemplative expression and said after a while, "I think we only need to spend about three thousand gold dragons to fill our ships to the brim with all kinds of grains and maybe
even some of those long-lasting fruits,"

"Amazing!" she exclaimed softly with wonder when she imagined what it would be like to have all the ships with so much food every single trip, "...so we'll have only 7000 gold dragons left?" she said with a small pout, a little
bummed out that the money went away so quickly.

"Hmm... Not exactly," Jon said while scratching his head. "You see, I've been thinking about it for a while now because I believe we urgently need to upgrade from these 'borrowed' longships."

"Why? What's wrong with them?"

"Well... they're not exactly designed for carrying cargo over long distances, are they?" Jon looked around at the cramped space of the ship. "We'll never be able to meet the demand for Starkhorses in the Reach, considering
how densely populated the cities are, and not to mention the Westerlands, with just the Longships. So I think we need to invest in those huge Trade vessels,"

"I guess that makes sense... So how much does it cost?"

"I've inquired with a couple of merchants around here, and from what I've gathered, there's not exactly a market for them at the moment. However, if we can secure an introduction to someone from House Redwyne, we can
easily get a decent trade vessel for around 5000 dragons."

"5000!"

"I know it's a lot, but it would be an investment in our future..."

"No... That's good! That's good," she mumbled with her eyes growing heavy. "Give it... Give it all away..." Her eyes closed abruptly, and she fell asleep right there.

Sigh

"Guess they were right when they said that too much isn't good for you..." Jon mused while gently carrying his sleep-deprived vice-captain to a hammock, allowing her to get some much-needed rest.

After ensuring that she was properly settled, Jon made his way to the deck, seeking a breath of fresh air. As he looked out at the bustling port, he thought about all the farms he had visited and which ones would be best to
purchase various grains from. He also considered which crops would be most beneficial for the North.

"CAPTAIN!" A shout from below abruptly interrupted his thoughts, and he glanced down to see a knight bearing the Tyrell rose on his breastplate standing beside the crew on guard duty.

Jon's guard called out to him, beckoning him to come down. He quickly descended to see what the knight wanted. As he stepped onto the plank, the knight stood before him, adopting a formal tone. "Captain Jon, I am here
on behalf of Lady Olenna Tyrell. She cordially invites you and Lady Mormont to have lunch with her at noon tomorrow."

Jon's first instinct was, of course, to deny it, with some kind of excuse like he was busy or that he was just leaving the port but he stopped himself at the last moment because he knew that it would be too discourteous and
almost insulting to deny a direct invitation by the Lady of a Great House.

Moreover, considering his plans for the Reach's future, it would be unwise to offend the region's rulers. Plus considering that she only sent this invitation after the very last Starkhorse had been unloaded, it meant Lady
Olenna had likely taken into account his previous rejection of Willas's invitation, and her spies in the port must have informed her. Declining again would be a grave misstep.

Jon nodded to the knight, accepting the lunch invitation. "Thank you. Please inform Lady Olenna that we gratefully accept her kind invitation."

The knight departed promptly, and Jon found himself lost in thought once more. Despite the adjustments he would have to make to his plans, he knew that engaging with Lady Olenna could potentially open doors and solidify
their position in the Reach. The lunch meeting would be an opportunity he couldn't afford to miss.

As the day drew to a close, Jon watched the sunset over the port, contemplating the future of their trade ventures and the prosperity it could bring to the North.

...

The very next day, Jon and Dacey found themselves seated opposite each other in a luxurious carriage provided by the Tyrells. Jon sported a black leather jacket and pants, paired with a vibrant red silk shirt that peeked out from underneath, red being his favourite colour and black was a nod to the other Jon.

Dacey, on the other hand, wore a simple blue gown adorned with delicate white flowers. It was a dress Jon had hastily procured from a nearby market the previous day after getting the invitation since he knew that she didn't
believe in always keeping a set of proper clothes at hand, unlike him.

"Do we really have to go through with this?" Dacey sighed, her face reflecting frustration as she fiddled with the collar of her gown, it seems that the close-neck gown wasn't agreeing with her, "Can't we just skip it?"

"Well," Jon began with a nonchalant shrug, his gaze fixed on the passing farmlands outside the window, "if this were our final trip to the Reach, never to return again, then perhaps we could entertain the idea of skipping it.
But considering our future plans and the need for regular visits, we'll have to endure it."

"Ugh... I can already imagine all the fake smiles and unnecessary courtesies of these Southerners, not to mention..." Jon just listened to her with a smile on his face as she ranted about things that she'd probably never
experienced herself in her whole life, but since it had been fed to her from childhood, she can't really be blamed for being prejudiced.

The North was prejudiced that all the Southerners were simpering fools while the South thought that all the Northerners were rude barbarians with huge beards, always drinking ale and laughing loudly. In an era before the
invention of Newspapers prejudice was really just another form of information passed on from the previous generation.

The carriage came to a stop about half an hour later and when they stepped outside, it was to find themselves standing in the shade of the massive infamous maze of High Garden. Highgarden was located on a broad
verdant hill overlooking the river Mander. The castle was surrounded by three rings of white stone whose walls increase in height as you went inside, the labyrinth they were standing outside was located between the Outer
and Middle walls.

Jon's attention was drawn to their welcoming party gathered near the entrance. Margery Tyrell, radiantly dressed, watched with exasperation as her brother, Loras, engaged in a heated argument with young Alla.

Jon nudged Dacey, signalling for them to approach the group. It didn't take long for Margery to spot them, and she eagerly exclaimed, "Jon! Dacey!" However, someone was even quicker to react.

"Jon! You came!" Little Alla's delighted exclamation filled the air as she rushed towards him, throwing herself into his arms.

"Whoa there!" Jon chuckled playfully, pretending to struggle under her weight. "You've grown quite heavy, Alla. Looks like they're overfeeding you here."

"No, they're not!" Alla protested with a mischievous grin.

"Jon, it's lovely to see you again," Margery greeted them cheerfully. Her gaze then shifted to Dacey. "And Dacey, that dress suits you beautifully." Dacey was someone who was as comfortable in her leathers as she was
elegant in her gown so that wasn't an empty compliment.

"I love your dress as well, Margery," Dacey replied somewhat awkwardly, not entirely accustomed to such effusive enthusiasm.

Meanwhile, Loras had approached the group. While not yet the handsome man he would become, his curly brown hair and expressive eyes bestowed upon him a certain charm. However, his face remained stiff, as if he was
suffering from constipation and he would rather be anywhere else but here.

"Jon, Dacey," Margery gestured toward Loras, who stood beside them. "Allow me to introduce my brother, Loras. Loras, this is Jon, and this is Dacey Mormont, the ones we've been hearing so much about."

"Lady Mormont, Jon Snow," Loras nodded politely to each of them before turning to Margery. "We should be on our way. We don't want to keep Grandmother waiting." Without waiting for a response, he swiftly turned and
began walking toward the maze entrance.

Margery wore an apologetic expression as she addressed Jon and Dacey. "I apologize for my brother's behaviour. He's usually not this rude, but..."

Jon interrupted her, flashing an unaffected smile and nudging Dacey in her side when she opened her mouth, probably to say something not very nice about Loras.

"No it's not fine," Margery insisted, leading them through the maze, "But you can blame his competitiveness as well as Alla for this," she playfully glared at little Alla accusingly who grinned cheekily.

"I don't understand," Jon admitted, looking around at the breathtaking garden they were passing through. The air was filled with intoxicating scents, and the vibrant array of flowers he observed surpassed anything he had
ever seen before.

"You see, Alla has been singing your praises to anyone who would listen since she arrived. When she declared that you were the best fighter she had ever seen, it triggered my stubborn brother, who firmly believes he's the
finest fighter of his age," Margery explained in a hushed tone, ensuring Loras, who walked a short distance ahead, couldn't overhear, "so then they started bickering about who'd win in a fight,"

"Humph! Back in the North, I never saw Jon lose in the training yard, not to anyone," Little Alla confidently declared. "But Loras constantly loses to big brother Garlan, the Master-at-Arms, and others." She said the last part
louder, causing Loras to stiffen and increase his pace.

"Little lady, are you revealing all my secrets?" Jon playfully teased, tousling her hair with a warm smile.

"Hehe..."

They continued through the beautiful surroundings of Highgarden, passing the castle sept adorned with rows of stunning stained-glass windows depicting Garth Greenhand and the Seven. Even Jon, who wasn't a fan of the
Andal faith, could admit that it was beautiful. A few minutes later they arrived at their destination which was actually a small training ground with all the usual things like dueling rings, practice swords, protection and such.

Adjacent to the training area was a small building, featuring a viewing area on the second floor with ample seating. From there, Jon could spot Olenna Tyrell seated with Willas, as well as a plump, middle-aged man indulging
in pastries, who was probably Lord Mace, who he didn't during his previous visit with Frost.

Margery prepared to lead them toward the stairs when Loras abruptly stepped in front of Jon, placing his hands on his hips. "Jon Snow, I challenge you to a duel."

Jon and Dacey exchanged amused glances, while Margery swiftly scolded her brother. "Loras! How can you be so rude to our guests?"

"What's the harm? If he's as skilled as they say, he won't be afraid of a little challenge," Loras retorted, attempting to provoke Jon with what he assumed was a smug smile.

"I don't think I'm quite dressed for a duel at the moment, so perhaps we—" Jon began, intending to politely decline. However, he was abruptly interrupted by Dacey's eager voice. "I'll do it!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up
with excitement.

"What?" Loras and Margery simultaneously voiced their confusion, while Jon turned to Dacey with a raised eyebrow.

Dacey leaned in close to Jon, whispering mischievously in his ear. "Let me play with the pretty boy, please. You know I'll be bored if I accompany you. You can handle the Tyrells while I take the flower down a peg or two."

"And how exactly do you plan to fight in a gown—" Jon paused mid-sentence, his voice filled with resignation, as Dacey's mischievous smile confirmed his suspicion. "Don't tell me you're wearing your leathers underneath
that."

"What do you think?" Dacey shrugged playfully, maintaining her impish expression. Jon shook his head, finally relenting with an exasperated sigh. "Fine... But don't get carried away."

"I'll do my best," she replied, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Loras grew increasingly impatient as they whispered back and forth. Finally, unable to contain himself any longer, he questioned fiercely, "So, are you going to fight or are you going to run away like a coward?"

"Loras!" Margery scolded him, then turned to Jon, her tone pleading. "You don't have to—"

"Let's go, pretty boy. I'll be the one fighting you," Dacey declared, a predatory smile spreading across her face.

"What? Why?" Loras asked, his confusion evident.

"Umm... Ah! That's right!", Dacey exclaimed with a sudden realization. "It's proper etiquette since Jon is our captain. You have to defeat me, the Vice Captain, first before challenging him. Didn't you know? It's common
knowledge," she claimed, maintaining a poker face as she spouted pure nonsense.

"But... you're a girl," Loras protested, turning to Jon with a fierce expression. "Are you trying to humiliate me?"

"No need to worry," Dacey assured him soothingly. "I'm just the appetizer. You can defeat me quickly as a formality, and then Jon will be all yours. Let's go!" Without waiting for his response, she strode purposefully toward the
training field.

Loras glanced back and forth between Dacey and Jon a few times, then reluctantly followed her, shouting over his shoulder at Jon, "Don't you dare go anywhere—I'll be back for you soon!"

Margery wore an anxious expression as she turned to Jon. "Is she going to be alright? Perhaps I should inform Grandmother, and she can intervene."

"Don't worry about her," Jon reassured Margery, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he watched Loras's retreating back before he started towards the stairs, "Let's go then,"

"But shouldn't we wait for her..."

"Oh! No need to do that," Jon said with an amused expression, "It might take a while. I suspect she won't let him leave until she's had her fill of fun."

"What?"

 

[LazyWizard]

"What is that damn boy doing down there?" Olenna's voice seethed through gritted teeth as she leaned forward, her gaze piercing the scene unfolding below.

In the viewing area, the Tyrell family occupied their respective positions. Olenna, the matriarch, sat on the far right, her aged fingers drumming with impatience on a small table beside her, a plate of cheese forgotten. Lord Mace, occupying the central spot, had his table overflowing with an
assortment of snacks and pastries, clearly intended for the guests. And closest to the stairs was Willas watching with a troubled expression.

They all watched as Loras entered the desolate training ground accompanied by Dacey, the Northern girl from House Mormont. A fleeting conversation passed between them, and then immediately vanished into the nearby changing room, emerging moments later clad in leathers and breeches, a clothing rarely worn by women in Reach.

"I fear they're about to engage in a duel," Willas confided, his voice laden with concern, his gaze locked on Loras and Dacey as they began warning up, Loras with his training sword and Dacey Mormont with the only Morning star available in the Training yard that had barely been used by anyone before, "I-I warned you, grandmother, that sending Loras to receive Jon was ill-advised, Now—"

"And I thought he was going to provoke a fight with the boy, not the girl!" Olenna interjected. Although she loved all her grandchildren equally, there was something about Loras that reminded her too much of his father, speaking of which "What have you been teaching him, you—" she turned toward her biggest embarrassment only to find him gorging himself on pastries and hadn't even bothered to look up what was going on, "Stop eating, you fool!" she hissed, her frustration evident.

"But Mother—"

"NOW!" Olenna's harsh whisper echoed, compelling Mace to reluctantly set down his favourite cake. He quickly wiped his hands on his pants, a despondent look replacing the joy he had earlier derived from the snacks.

Just then, the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs caught their attention. All eyes turned to Margery, who led a handsome young man into the room. He possessed brown hair and grey eyes, a common trait among the Starks. However, his eyes were so dark grey that they appeared almost black. His tall stature and lean build hinted at countless hours spent in the training yard.

"Jon! It's wonderful to see you again, my friend," Willas exclaimed, rising from his seat to greet him with an enthusiastic handshake.

"The pleasure is mine, Willas," Jon replied warmly.

Willas suddenly narrowed his eyes and leaned down to whisper, "You decline my invitation, yet accept my grandmother's. Should I take offence?" he tried to say it with a stern expression on his face but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away.

With a poker face, Jon whispered back, "You lack the intimidating reputation your grandmother possesses."

Willas erupted into genuine laughter, his hand landing playfully on Jon's shoulder. "Good answer!" he chuckled. Turning to his assembled family, he declared, "Come, allow me to introduce you to my kin." Stepping forward, he gestured toward his father, Mace, and said, "Jon, this is my father, Lord Paramount of the Reach, Mace Tyrell."

"Lord Tyrell, it is an honour to make your acquaintance," Jon greeted Mace with a graceful bow, his words measured and respectful.

Mace's eyes fixated on Jon, a flicker of recognition in his gaze. "You bear a striking resemblance to your father, boy," he mused, his voice carrying a nostalgic tone. Not waiting for a response, he continued, "I met him a few times. Did he tell you about that?" With enthusiasm, Mace launched into a tale, recounting his involvement in the rebellion.

"It was during the rebellion, you see," Mace began, his voice filled with pride. "I was there outside Storm's End with my army, having the castle completely surrounded. Every single person inside was starving, on the verge of defeat. But before that could happen, your father arrived with the news that King's Landing had fallen..."

Mace continued with his story like a peacock while Willas and Jon exchanged awkward glances. Margery had been called to stand behind her grandmother as soon as she entered the room, and Jon caught a glimpse of her answering Olenna's whispered questions. Though he couldn't hear their conversation, he could deduce that they were discussing Loras and Dacey's activities below.

"—and then he requested that I lay down my arms and join their side," Mace continued, his voice brimming with self-importance. "I was reluctant, of course, but he convinced me that since the king was dead, there was no need for further bloodshed. So I graciously—

"I'm sure the boy has heard all about it from his father already. No need to bore him with that," Jon was sure that it didn't go down quite the way Mace put it but it would be stupid of him to deny the Lord some bragging so he just put on a fake smile and listened to his drivel. Still, he felt a wave of gratitude wash over him when Olenna interrupted, preventing Mace from delving into the entire rebellion from "his" perspective.

Seizing the opportunity, Willas swiftly ushered Jon toward his grandmother. "Jon, this is my grandmother, Olenna Tyrell nee Redwyne—"

"I'm sure he knows who I am, considering I am the one who invited him," Olenna interjected, her gaze appraising as she locked eyes with Jon. Jon responded by kissing the back of her hand with perfect courtesy. "My Lady, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Olenna raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. "A Northerner with manners, now that's a rare sight," she commented.

"Grandmother!" Willas and Margery chimed simultaneously, their frowns mirroring their disapproval. Yet, Jon didn't lose his smile for a single second, in fact, it became even more genuine, as he replied with a tilt of his head, "Thank you for the compliment, My lady. I've worked hard on my etiquette since childhood,"

"Thank you for the compliment, my lady. I've worked hard on my etiquette since childhood."

Olenna's interest sparked an intrigued gleam in her eyes. However, the conversation was abruptly interrupted as Mace interjected, unable to resist boasting further. "Tell me, boy, did Lord Stark tell you about the Battle of Ashford? You know, the only time King Robert lost to anyone..."

Jon watched as the rest of the Tyrells, except Mace, tried to suppress groans of exasperation. It became clear that Mace had a habit of bragging to every new guest that arrived. Out of the corner of his eye, Jon caught Olenna's signal to one of her giant guards, standing by the stairs. The guard nodded imperceptibly, then positioned himself in front of Mace, bowing respectfully. "My Lord, the Maester has an urgent letter that requires your immediate attention."

"An important letter, you say?" Mace's eyes widened with feigned surprise. Puffing out his chest, he addressed Jon proudly, "I apologize, boy, but I must attend to this matter immediately. You know how many duties the Lord Paramount of the Reach has." With a final pat on Jon's shoulder,
Mace made his way toward the exit.

Willas shook his head with a sigh, disappointed at how gullible his father was. He knew that his Father wasn't the brightest but still, he should have known by now that it was one of Olenna's tactics to manipulate him. Thankfully, she refrained from issuing her usual "Get lost, you oaf!" reserved for family members. Maintaining a semblance of respect for the Lord of House Tyrell was crucial, no matter how superficial it might be.

"Now tell me—" Olenna began, but then paused and turned to her grandchildren. "What are you waiting for? Go see your brother make a fool of himself," she shooed them away with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I want to talk to Jon Snow here alone."

Willas hesitated momentarily before rising with a sigh. Casting an apologetic glance at Jon, he moved to stand by the railing, far enough to be out of earshot. Margery attempted to make herself inconspicuous, inching behind her grandmother, hoping to escape her notice. However,
Olenna's glare fixed on her granddaughter, prompting Margery to scramble after her brother, but not before waving to Jon and casting a pitying glance in his direction.

"Why are you still standing? Sit down!" Olenna commanded, and Jon calmly took the seat vacated by Willas. "Now tell me, why did you not accept Loras's offer to duel? Were you scared? Because if you were, I must say, I am quite disappointed. I thought that you Starks were famous for your Wolf's blood or something."

Jon easily recognized that Olenna had been trying to provoke him from the start, though the reason remained unclear. Nonetheless, he knew how to navigate such encounters. "Well, I thought it would be a waste of my time, as I came here for a different purpose than to play knight," he replied with a subtle smirk. "Besides, I am more of a hunter and an archer than a swordsman."

"A waste of time, you say..." Olenna mused, her narrowed eyes fixed upon him. "But didn't you promise to fight him once he defeated that girl?"

"I did," Jon nodded, his gaze shifting to the predatory smirk on Dacey's face below. "But I don't think it will come to that."

"I somehow get the feeling that you're underestimating my grandson," she remarked, plucking a piece of cheese from the plate before them. "And while I can see that the girl's a bit older than Loras, he has been taught by the finest knight the Reach could offer. He rarely loses to a fighter his age, so... I think you'd be foolish to take him for a lousy fighter."

Jon maintained his calm demeanour, his gaze steady. "Oh, I can see from here that he is a hard worker and has a solid foundation. But... that's all I can see," he subtly shrugged, provoking her. "I don't believe it would be enough to defeat Dacey."

Olenna raised an eyebrow, her confidence unwavering. "You're quite confident about her, aren't you?"

"I am," Jon affirmed.

"In that case, how about a bet?" Olenna proposed a glint of challenge in her eyes.

At last, Jon realized the true purpose behind her invitation and her initial attempts to provoke him. "What do you have in mind?"

"I've heard that you're in the market for some trade galleys," she inquired, raising an eyebrow. When Jon nodded, she continued, "So, how about I give you one for free if Loras happens to lose?"

"In exchange for what?" Jon knew that a single galley would be nothing more than pocket change for her so he didn't even bat an eye at her betting it on a simple duel.

"I've heard rumours of a secret route you use to bypass the Ironborn," she stated nonchalantly as if it hadn't been her true objective from the start. "I want access to that route if Loras wins. How does that sound?"

"Hmm... It does seem heavily skewed in your favour, considering the profits that can be made using the route," he mused. Then, with a sweet smile, he added, "But... I'll agree to that on behalf of you inviting me to see the castle of Highgarden"

"That's final then," she said, her smug smile mirroring Jon's. It was at that exact moment both of them looked down to find that Loras and Dacey had finished warming up and had entered the ring for their duel.

Loras had a distracted expression on his face as he kept glancing towards the balcony with a scowl on his face, while Dacey assumed a relaxed stance, her Morningstar gripped firmly in her right hand.

The duel started at a predetermined signal and Loras didn't waste a single second to go on the offensive with a flurry of strikes, each aimed at swiftly ending the contest. Yet, Dacey calmly evaded his attacks, stepping back and gracefully leaning her body sideways to narrowly avoid each blow. When she couldn't dodge, she effortlessly parried Loras's sword with her Morningstar, wielding it as if it weighed nothing.

In due course, Dacey found herself at the edge of the ring, forced to halt her evasive manoeuvres. Seizing the opportunity, Loras smirked and pressed his advantage, moving in for the kill as Dacey bought her Morning Star to defend against his slash.

As they locked their weapons, Loras opened his mouth, most probably to say something like, 'Surrender now,' or 'I don't want to hit a girl,' but sadly he never got the chance to say more than a few words as out of nowhere Dacey smashed her forehead ruthlessly into the pretty boy's nose causing him to see stars. He stumbled back like a disoriented drunk before crashing to the ground with a resounding thud.

A stunned silence settled over the scene, broken by Margery's gasp, "LORAS," as she rushed down the stairs to check on her fallen brother. Olenna wore an incredulous expression, while Jon calmly savoured a pastry before him, "Loras may have been taught by the best, but
unfortunately, he is still a green boy... On the other hand, Dacey has been slaying Wildlings and Ironborn raiders since she was ten years old... There was never any real competition between them from the beginning."

...

Loras once again crashed to the ground, prompting a groan from Willas on the balcony railing, while Margery anxiously observed the fight from outside the ring.

Loras, of course, hadn't accepted his defeat at Dacey's hand and immediately after getting rid of the dizziness as well as wiping the blood from his nose, he had jumped up and challenged her to a fight again saying that he only lost because he was distracted. And Dacey, who was in the ring for some entertainment to begin with, immediately complied and so began the beat down of the youngest Tyrell while the other three members of his family watched from afar.

While it was easy to see that Loras had all his fundamentals down and knew how to slash or stab flawlessly, his stance was stable too and he also utilized his footwork perfectly but the problem was that he was too rigid... his adherence to what he had been taught rendered his style somewhat flowery and predictable and Dacey exploited this flaw with relentless precision. His lack of experience in real-life-and-death battles became apparent, especially in contrast to Dacey, who had already shed all unnecessary elements from her skillset.

Punches to the gut, strikes to his hand holding the sword, trips, and so on, Dacey defeated him in a unique way every single time. And she didn't show him an ounce of mercy and even kicked him in the nuts once, which had kept him down for quite a while. Unlike Loras, who primarily relied on swinging and dodging, Dacey utilized every part of her body as a weapon. If Jon were to compare her fighting style to anyone, it would be to the Hound.

"He is tenacious, I'll give him that," Jon remarked, impressed by Loras's resilience. Willas emitted a hollow laugh beside him before turning to his grandmother. "Don't you think we should intervene? Isn't this enough?"

"No," Olenna retorted, ruthlessly turning away from the fight. "As Jon here said, the boy is still green. He needs to learn that there are better fighters out there, sooner or later." With her declaration made, she returned to her seat. Jon offered Willas a sympathetic pat before following
Olenna's lead and reclaiming his own seat.

"How much?" Olenna asked abruptly.

"Hmm! How much?"

Jon feigned puzzlement, though he knew precisely what she was referring to.

"How much for the route?" Olenna asked, her patience forced, as she had made no secret of her desire for it. She had wagered against him twice, initially believing that Loras had lost to Dacey due to a fluke. However, she stopped after losing two galleys as she wasn't blind enough to not see that her grandson simply wasn't the better fighter.

"Ah, that!" Jon exclaimed, raising his eyebrows before shaking his head ruefully. "I'm sorry to say that it's not for sale."

"Do you even understand what 'How much?' means, boy?"

"I do, actually," Jon replied, his gaze unwavering. "I'm aware that your house is one of the wealthiest in Westeros, second only to the Lannisters. But I also understand the value of this route. It would connect two kingdoms that have never engaged in substantial trade in history, two kingdoms with vast disparities—one rich in food, the other abundant in natural resources. This route has the potential to generate wealth not only once or twice, but for generations to come..."

Unspoken but understood between them was the security risk with the fact that the route would provide the Reach with a direct path into the North. Not that there was any such 'Route' to begin with unless you count the one you can only find with a warg. But Jon didn't have to tell that to Tyrell Martriach before him.

"You don't think you can keep it hidden for long, do you?" Olenna's tone remained neutral, lacking any hint of menace, but the underlying threat was unmistakable.

Jon chuckled softly. "Oh, I don't just think it—I know it. In fact, nobles and merchants from the Westerlands have been trying to find it for months now, but not a single one has succeeded. They've sent ship after ship to follow us, but each time, they either got lost at sea or had to turn back halfway because they couldn't keep up with us at night." He turned to Olenna with a smile. "I'm sure Tara has already informed you that we can travel during the night. So if you believe you can outdo them during the Hour of the Wolf, then by all means, try your hand at the open sea on a
dark night..."

Olenna had already gleaned all the details from Tara upon her arrival, which is also why she was so desperate to get the route as she knew that it would definitely give the Tyrells a large advantage over their powerful vessels. Moreover, she was aware that Jon had not only sold those Stark horses but also a variety of other Northern products that were highly sought after in the region. Thus, she could already envision the future profits that awaited her house.

"I heard that you've been seeking to purchase crops in bulk," Olenna abruptly changed the topic.

Jon wasn't surprised by her knowledge and responded innocently, "Yes, I am. Why do you ask? Are you looking to sell some?"

"I want you to exclusively buy from us, now and in the future..."

"That could be challenging," Jon replied with a thoughtful expression. "You see, I've already made promises to several suppliers that I will purchase from them. And you know how much a Stark's word means..."

When Olenna raised an eyebrow, essentially conveying the message, 'What do you want then?' Jon continued with a grin, "However, I am not exactly a Stark but a Snow, so I can agree to your proposal... with a few conditions, of course..."

"Go on," Olenna said, intrigued.
"You will always sell to us at twenty per cent less than the market price," Jon proposed.

It seems to her that boy's done a good amount of research as he quoted the exact amount which wasn't outrageous enough to not leave her with enough profits while not getting taken advantage of, so she agreed without any bargaining, "Fine,"

"You will provide us with as many trade galleons as we want on an interest-free loan—"

"What? Interest-free? Are you out of your mind, boy?" Olenna interrupted, her face displaying disbelief. "Do you take us for a charity? Why in the seven hells would I give you anything interest-free? And what do you mean by 'as many as you want'? Do you think we are the Bravoos,
churning out a new ship every other day?"

"Don't worry about that. We will only acquire the ships that we can afford, so you will have ample time. Besides, the most crucial resource needed is wood, which we can easily supply," Jon explained patiently. "Doesn't it make sense to you? The more ships we have, the more prosperous
we become. And the more prosperous we become, the more we buy from you. In the end, it's a win-win situation where everyone benefits."

Olenna didn't reveal it on her face, but she had to admit that she was genuinely impressed. She understood better and better how he achieved such success at such a young age. However, she was no pushover herself. "You know, I like the way you think. That's why I'll agree to your
condition, but only if I have the first priority to purchase any number of Starkhorses you bring to the Reach for us to sell."

"You want to tie us even further... Huh," Jon responded, raising an eyebrow.
"As you said, it's a win-win," Olenna stated. She had already heard that every merchant who had bought those Stark horses was selling them like hotcakes, so it didn't take her long to calculate that she would make significant profits for a long time. She wanted to get in on that action too.

"Half... You can have the priority of buying half the stocks," Jon negotiated, anticipating Olenna's potential objection, "AND you'll get a ten per cent discount for being our Business Partner,"

"Fine...then—"

"Let's get to Condition number three then..." Jon interjected with a wide smile.

"Oh, you're a greedy little bastard, aren't you?" Olenna remarked, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

"I am, indeed," Jon replied cheekily, as he had resolved from the beginning to squeeze as much as he could from these wealthy Southerners.

...

"...Oh, don't glare at me like that, pretty boy," Dacey said with a smirk, addressing Loras, who had finally exhausted his stamina and lay on the ground, breathing heavily. "You do know that I was going easy on you."

Loras glared even harder, and Dacey raised her hand in surrender, saying with a cheeky smile, "I really was! See, I didn't go for your pretty face even once—Oh! Sorry! Only once!"

She was telling the truth, but every other part of Loras's body was filled with bruises and ached more than anything. Loras had always believed he was a skilled fighter, and he had imagined himself surpassing the likes of Ser Barristan or Ser Jaime with time, confident that he would
eventually, defeat them.

But today he learned that he didn't amount to much if he couldn't even beat an ordinary girl from the North. Perhaps he wasn't the prodigy he thought himself to be, and maybe everyone had been taking it easy on him.

As Loras grappled with his internal conflict, Jon called out to Dacey from the base of the stairs, "Dacey! Come on, we're leaving."

"Oh, right," she nodded at Jon before turning back to Loras, who was getting up. She placed the Morning Star on the ground and said, "It was nice playing knight with you, pretty boy, but I have to go now. Maybe we'll have another bout the next time we meet."


"I-I'll definitely beat you next time," Loras declared with determination, looking straight into her eyes.

"Uh... sure," Dacey responded with an amused smile before running toward Jon, who was impatiently waiting. "So, are you done with your talks?"

"I am," Jon replied, immediately heading towards the exit.

"And..." Dacey asked, struggling to keep up with him. "How did it go?"

"We got more than I had hoped for, so it was perfect," Jon answered before turning to her with an accusing glare. "No thanks to you! I specifically told you to take it easy on the kid."

"Hehe... I just couldn't help it. He was so naive and overconfident that I wanted to teach him a lesson," Dacey admitted with a sadistic chuckle, but she stopped herself upon seeing Jon's glare. "Besides, he was the one who kept coming back for more. It wasn't my fault... Is that why we're
leaving so early? Is the old crone angry that I hurt her precious grandson too much and is kicking us out?"

"No, nothing like that," Jon clarified.

"Then why?"

"Because that foolish wildling somehow slipped past the guards and is now roaming the streets of Highgarden," Jon said through gritted teeth.

"Oh... Yeah, that would be a disaster waiting to happen..." Dacey responded, realizing the potential consequences.

///

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[LazyWizard]

"Shit! Fuck! Shiiit! Fuuuck!"

Cursing under her breath, that was all Val could do as she gazed around in awe at this strange place called a market, where she had ended up after slipping away from the ship. The overwhelming sights, the myriad of food and spices filling the air with scents, the rainbow of colours displayed in the clothes, and the endless chatter in languages she had never heard before - it was a bewildering experience.

Never had she seen so many people gathered together in one spot, not even in the bustling port of Bear Island, which paled in comparison to this sprawling market. In every direction she turned, she saw countless faces, houses built upon houses, and what astounded her the most was the absence of violence or thievery. It was a challenge to comprehend a place where folks didn't constantly seek to harm you or steal from you or even 'steal' you, something she had grown used to in the harsh North.

And the attire of these people was utterly absurd to her. The men and women wore flimsy, colourful garments so thin that even a jagged rock would tear right through them, not to mention if they happened to run across a wolf, and even more stupid were the ones wearing those big shiny armour which would be completely useless if they happen to come across a bear. 'How would they even run in that?'

"Maybe there are no wolves or bears in the South," Val mused, "or else they'd have been feasted upon already," she thought, observing a plump individual in garish yellow clothes peddling spices with great enthusiasm

And while she had heard about the money thing from Jon and seen many of the people around her using those copper and silver coins to exchange for things like food, she just couldn't wrap her head around why anyone would ever give away good food to anyone else for those small metals that wouldn't even stop a dagger.

In the true North, there was no need for these metals, you ate what you hunted and if you wanted a knife or sword or spear, then you either make them yourself and, if you can't, then you can exchange that for stuff you have like meat, animal skin, fruits etc and if you can't even do that then you just loot them from someone weak who has them.

And she was exactly having that itch to loot at the moment seeing people selling so many different kinds of things, some had so many unique colours and shapes of fruits while others were sitting on piles and piles of fish, she had never seen so much fish in her life, she was sure that they could feed a few clans with them. It was pure torture for her to see all these fat sheep around walking without a care in the world.

And it would be so easy for her to steal from these stupid Southerners as barely one out of ten of them were carrying any kind of weapon on them as if they didn't even think that anyone would try to rob them and they may need to protect their stuff. She could just take whatever she fancied and these fat asses probably wouldn't even be able to run after her.

But then she remembered what Jon had said about stealing not being allowed here and if someone still steals then the king sends an army after them and then cuts their hands off if they are caught. So she stopped her hands from wandering as much as she could as she had no desire to confront an entire army for a few stolen fruits.

"Step right up! We got Fresh Bacon and Fish!"

Just as she was grappling with lost opportunities, a man's boisterous call for food caught her attention, making her wonder if he was bragging about it. He was standing outside a somewhat big open house but it was a weird one as it didn't seem to have any place to sleep instead it was filled with a dozen chairs with every one of them having a few people.

"My Lady! Beautiful Lady! Yes, You!" the man suddenly said enthusiastically to her when he caught her staring inside, "Do you want to partake in our food? I promise! you won't be disappointed,"

"Are you talking to me?" She asked and when he nodded happily she continued with wide eyes, "Are you saying I can eat anything I want?"

"Of course, Mam," the man said enthusiastically, "We got Fish, Bacon, Porridge, Bread, freshly baked pie and a lot more, you will definitely be satisfied. Come! Come inside," he said half pushing her in and making her sit at a table.

And just like that, the beautiful Wildling went into a tavern for the time in her life... Not that she knew what a tavern was...

...

Approximately an hour later, Val groaned in discomfort as she stuffed the final piece of pie into her mouth. Ever since she entered this strange establishment, she had been indulging in an endless stream of unfamiliar dishes, each one a new sensation: spicy, sweet, meat, vegetables, and more.

And the funny thing was she didn't have to name a single one as the man who had bought her would come to her table every few minutes and say the names of a few dishes and ask her if she wanted them and all she would have to do was nod and he would swiftly bring them to her. That was how she found herself sitting before a table that was groaning under the weight of the plates that she had emptied.

"Anything else, Fair Maiden," the man came again and even though he was sweating from having gone back and forth constantly over the last hour to serve her, he still had a smile on his face.

Val looked down at her newly acquired round belly and reluctantly shook her head. "Nay, I'm full," she replied. She didn't know if she would ever get a chance like this in the future and she wanted to nod her head so much at the moment but she knew her body very well and knew that if she took another bite then she would definitely be sick and puke everything that she had eaten.

Which was a novelty in and of itself, as she never imagined that she would ever get sick due to overeating.

Val rose from the table with a contented belch, offering the man a charming smile and a wave of gratitude for the bountiful feast he had provided. With a light skip in her step, she began heading towards the exit, feeling pleasantly satiated.

"Mam! Madam, you forgot to pay, Haha," the man called out, hurrying to catch up with her, forcing a laugh that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Val tilted her head in confusion, "Pay? For what?"

"The money," he replied, his smile faltering.

Her brow furrowed, "Money? Wasn't it free?"

"Of course, it wasn't free," he hissed, finally losing his smile, he had lost a few stones of weight while running back and forth, serving her like a slave and watching as she ate enough to feed three big knights and now she was saying that she wasn't going to pay.

"Oi! You're the one who forced me to come in and started putting dishes one after the other without saying anything about the money, I thought I didn't have to pay,"

Laughter erupted from the nearby tables, particularly from a group of men sitting on her right. Among them were five men, two of whom were identical twins, enjoying their meal while standing the other three were standing behind them, and of them, two were wearing armour and a sword at their waist while the last was a timid-looking, rotund boy with a moon-shaped face, around 12 years old. Unlike the others, he regarded Val with a sense of pity and refrained from laughing.

"H-How could you not think that you would have to pay?" the man asked her dumbfoundedly.

"It's your fault for not saying anything at the start, and I got no money anyway so it's your bad luck," she shrugged and turned around to leave.

Before she could go, the man blocked her path with a fierce expression, "You can't leave here after so much, little lady, you're going to pay for it one way or another..." he leered at her body with a gaze that she she was all too familiar with.

The fierce smile that appeared on her face scared the shit out of the man for a moment, making him step back and just as she was contemplating stabbing him and running away, a voice came from behind her, "I'll pay for the lady,"

Turning around, she saw one of the twins speaking while the other encouraged him with encouraging pats on the back, urging him forward. Hobber, as she heard him being called, approached her haughtily, tossing a gold dragon at the man blocking her path. He wore one of those brightly coloured, flimsy garments that she had seen on a few people before.

Hobber bowed before her and said arrogantly, "May I have the fair lady's name?"

"Val," she replied, finding the whole encounter rather peculiar. She assumed it was one of the courting rituals of the Southerners, but she had no interest in entertaining a weak man like him. With a snort, she turned to leave.

Hobber's face fell as he saw her walk away before he turned around to look at his brother who immediately facepalmed and exclaimed, "Go after her, you idiot,"

He nodded and immediately went after the most beautiful girl he had seen, other than Margery of course. He caught up to Val not far away, near an alley, and inquired, "Which noble house do you belong to, My lady?" he assumed she was noble seeing how pretty she was as he thought that only nobles would have such beautiful blonde hair and white skin. He wanted to know where she was from so that he could properly court her.

"What? What do you mean a house?"

"What?" Hobber asked confused, "You're not a noble?"

"No," she said absentmindedly before walking away.

Hobber's demeanour changed immediately. He pulled at her elbow with a leering smile, "Hold on, girl. You can't just leave without repaying me," his earlier thoughts of courting had faded now that he saw her as a mere commoner, he was sure that his family name would be enough to get the girl into his bed one way or another.

...

Val let out an exasperated groan, finding herself in yet another troublesome situation, and it wasn't like she hadn't had these in the true North from Men who wanted to steal her, but it was just that the Men there were true to themselves and straightforward so she didn't have to hesitate to cut their cock off and no one would even bat an eye at it but now...

'It would be hard to get away with that,' she thought while looking at the people walking beside them while giving them a wide berth after taking a look at the grapes drawn on the man's clothing.

"I am Hobber Redwyne," he said arrogantly, "So you'll come with me if you know what's good for you," he said fiercely when he saw that she wasn't paying him any attention, and wasn't immediately scared of him like he expected her to be.

Val suddenly yanked her hand away from him and then before he could do anything about that, she looked at him with a sweet smile and asked, "Do you have more of those metals from before,"

He was confused for a moment about what she was talking about before he asked puzzledly, "Are you talking about Gold?", and when she nodded he continued with a smirk, "Oh yes I have plenty of those,"

Val had been thinking about this for a while now, as it seemed that it would be very convenient for her in the South if she had a few of those gold metals called Dragons with her and she had the perfect sucker in front of her that would be happy to supply her with those, so she smiled and said, "Let's go, then,"

'Maybe, it's not so bad if the south is filled with suckers like him,' she thought while looking at his stupid smile as they went into an alleyway.

Unbeknownst to Val, two guards had followed after them and had been observing their interactions from a distance and were quietly shaking their heads at the sight.

...

"Is she really here?" Dacey asked as they left the bustling market behind them and entered a deserted alley that led to a small forest filled with shrubs and short green trees, "Why the hell would she even go in here?"

"You'll find out about that soon enough?" Jon replied with a sigh, leading the way with a sense of resignation, 'It was stupid of me to think that someone like her would stay put for just a few hours,' he had been planning to take her on a trip to the port to get her familiarized with the South after he got back from the visit to the Tyrells but it seems that the girl just couldn't wait.

Their progress into the trees was interrupted by a sudden scream in the distance. The moment she heard the girlish scream, Dacey immediately took off towards the sound. Only a few minutes later a clearing appeared in front of her but the scene that awaited her, definitely wasn't what she had been expecting.

The one who was screaming and crying was actually a young man, a Noble from the looks of his clothes. He was lying on the ground with his hands locked behind his back with Val sitting atop him with a dagger in her hands, attempting to cut off his finger, "Stop squirming, You Idiot!"

"Stop! Stop! Don't do that!" shouted the two guards who were standing a few meters away from them, with their swords out but the only thing they could do at that moment was plead impotently to the girl with the dagger if they didn't want to get their lord maimed.

Dacey couldn't contain her shock, "What the fuck is happening here?"

"Oh you're here," Val said dully, as the sadist smile she had on her face all this time turned to a disappointed frown, and the people in the clearing finally noticed the new entrants.

It seems that she'd been panicking for nothing, Dacey mused as she felt Jon finally enter the clearing behind her at a relaxed pace. 'It seems the situation had been under control from the start...' she thought, her eyes flicking to the blue sky above, and finding the massive Frost far up in the sky after some difficulty.

"How did you guys find me," Val asked them with a pout.

Ignoring Val's question, Jon calmly inquired, "What do you think you're doing?"

Innocently, Val replied, "Oh, this! I am just taking the just price by cutting off his finger,"

The guards, pleading helplessly from a distance, asked, "Do you people know this insane girl? Quickly get her to leave our lord!"

"Y-Yes! Please save me!!"

"Why do you want to do that?" Jon asked as he and Val ignored the panicking guards and sniffing noble.

"Because he failed to steal me and now that he has failed, he obviously has to pay the price— And speaking of which, You Liar!" she suddenly glared accusingly at Jon and said, "You told me that stealing didn't happen here and that it wasn't allowed in the south,"

Jon turned his eyes towards the noble who immediately stuttered, "S-She's lying! I didn't steal anything from her Argh—" he immediately cried as he felt his hands about to break when Val yanked them even further.

"Shut up! You fucker! You should be thankful that I didn't cut off your cock like I usually do," she did consider it for a while but then decided against it as it would be too messy and besides there was no way she would find a heart tree around here to sacrifice his cock and balls, anyway.

"Val, come here," Jon suddenly interrupted her.

"But—"

"Now," he said and the look in his eyes told her that he wasn't asking, and she already knew how dangerous he could be from their first encounter so she reluctantly obeyed Jon's command, standing up from the nobleman but not before delivering a fierce kick to his groins, "Che! You got lucky! You shit!" she then spat at him for good measure before ignoring him and going towards Jon and Dacey who were looking at her with exasperation.

"Humph! You're too soft," Val remarked to Jon, clearly disappointed in his intervention. "If it was another free man from the True North, he would have already killed these men and strung them to the trees for trying to steal his woman." Behind her, the guards immediately rushed to their lord the moment Val left him and tried to calm him down and make sure that he wasn't missing any parts.

"First of all, you're not my woman," Jon said with a sigh while massaging his forehead, "And secondly don't think I don't know what you did," he said while staring pointedly at the pouch of coins on her waist that she obviously nicked from the noble. She haughtily looked away instead of answering him and going to stand beside Dacey.

"Let's just go," he said, ready to put this bizarre encounter behind them and continue their journey.

"Stop!" Hobber screamed, "You think you can just leave like that!" he said while looking at them with anger and humiliation, "Raul! Paul! Take them!"

"I was hoping to resolve this peacefully, " Jon murmured to himself as he turned around, "But I guess I was asking too much from this world,"

Meanwhile, Val leaned towards Dacey and asked, "What's the deal with those two," she jerked her chin towards the guards who were coming towards them with their swords, "They suddenly came out of nowhere saying that I should not cut that shit. Are they his family or something?"

"No. They are his guards," Dacey answered, while nonchalantly watching Jon walking towards the armed men, "They are sworn to protect him with their life,"

"What?!" Val said with a dumbfounded look on her face and asked, "Why would anyone do that? And for What?" it was a completely foreign concept for her that someone would willingly try to protect someone, "Is he one of those kings or something,"

"Nooo..." Dacey chuckled at the naive question from the young wildling, "He's just a noble," she said while looking at the Grape insignia on his clothes.

"So why would they do that if he isn't the king,"

"Probably for Money or honour or protection or something like that..."

"You Southerners do a lot of stupid things," Val said to Dacey who just shrugged without going into an explanation of how she wasn't a Southerner.

"How about I just give you back your money and we can go our ways... Huh," Jon tried one last even though he knew the answer he was going to get.

"Fuck the Money!" The noble growled while leaning against a tree with his hands lying uselessly by his side as they were still numb from the abuse they suffered, "I want that bitch to suffer for what she did," he glared at the girl who completely ignored him, "What the fuck are you waiting for? Kill Him!" he screamed at his guards who immediately pounced on Jon.

The guards had decent enough skills, but nothing to write home about. Jon weaved between their attacks effortlessly as if he knew where their swords were going to be next.

He was quick as a rabbit as he ducked, sidestepped and leaned out of their slashes and to the outsiders it felt as if the guards were intentionally avoiding Jon's body.

He didn't take them seriously enough to feel the need to take out his sword and was even relaxed enough to talk while evading their attacks, "You know my father always says that the only time a man should take out his sword is when he intends to kill. So you should really be careful with those, they are quite sharp you know,"

The guards were getting irritated and feeling incompetent as they couldn't seem to touch him at all and finally, the one on the right shouted in frustration, "Shut UP!" and stabbed with all his might, extending himself.

JJon sidestepped effortlessly, leaving the guard off balance. In one swift motion, Jon's hand shot out, landing two precise blows, one to the guard's throat and the other to his nose. Gasping for air, the guard dropped to his knees, clutching his injured throat, his face turning green.

Meanwhile, the second guard charged with reckless abandon, slashing his sword downward with all his might. Jon leaned back with a graceful tilt, the blade narrowly missing his nose. Taking advantage of the guard's exposed side, Jon's leg swung up like a whip, delivering a powerful kick to the back of his knee. The guard crumbled to the ground, wincing in pain and a quick kick to the back of his head took care of him as he went down with a groan.

His eyes finally turned to the Noble who immediately flinched and stumbled backwards as Jon started walking towards him, "Y-You won't get away with it! I am Hobber Redwyne and My father—"

"Do you know who I am?" Jon interrupted him calmly while looking down at him, "Where we are from? Who the girl was?"

Hobber gulped as he wondered if he had kicked a steel plate this time, "W-Who are you?"

"That's perfect," Jon gave him a bright grin before he kicked him in the face with enough force that a loud snap was heard before everything went black for the noble.

"Ha! Good kick!" Val exclaimed with a loud laugh as the last of them went down, "Come on let's take everything and string them up from the trees," she said excitedly while rushing towards the downed guards.

Jon and Dacey immediately exchanged helpless glances with each other, both of them wondering what they had gotten into.

///

 

[LazyWizard]

"Dacey! Why don't you head straight to the ships?" Jon suggested as the three of them emerged from the forest.

"Why?" Dacey inquired.

"We've struck a good deal with the Tyrells, and they'll soon be sending people to deliver a large shipment of crops. I need you to be there to oversee things," Jon replied with a smile.

"Alright then, but keep an eye on this one," Dacey said with a teasing smirk, pointing to Val. "She can be quite slippery,"

"Don't worry," Jon assured her with a smile while Val pouted at them.

With that, Dacey took a different path that led directly to the ports, while Jon followed the alley from where Val had previously entered.

"Where are we off to now?" Val asked eagerly, her excitement for exploring the south renewed after taking care of the nuisance, and with a few gold coins in her pocket, she was eager to indulge herself. She had her eyes on some items she'd seen earlier – a steel dagger, a new bow, or maybe a pair of those sturdy shoes...

"To eat," Jon said succinctly.

"What? But I just ate," Val protested, making a face. "And I'm not very hungry at the moment," she added reluctantly, finding it hard to decline food.

"You're not hungry, but I am," Jon said, rolling his eyes, "Besides, do you know the food I missed because of you... And the Tyrells are especially famous for the feasts they throw—"

"Shut up, Piggy,"

Jon was suddenly interrupted by a loud yell coming from the alley they were entering. The sight before him was unpleasant – a man with a malicious expression on his face, quite similar looking to the one he had just knocked out a few minutes ago, was viciously kicking a fat kid in the stomach.

The boy, around twelve years old with a round face, offered no resistance. He merely covered his head and curled up in a fetal position, whimpering, "P-Please, S-Stop! I am sorry!"

"I don't need your apologies, you pig!" the man, likely the other Redwyne twin, taunted with an unpleasant smirk. "I just need you to entertain me! My brother is probably enjoying himself, so it's your responsibility to make sure I don't get bored."

"P-Please, it hurts Ugh—"

"That's the whole point, Piggy," Redwyne sneered, grabbing the boy by his hair and forcing him to look into his eyes. "You're really pathetic. You know, your father wants you to become my father's page, hoping it will toughen you up... Humph! As if that were possible," he continued, slapping the boy with all his might. "And not only that, he wants to betroth my sister to you. My sister! As if trash like you could ever be good for her," he said before unleashing more brutal slaps.

"I-I am sorry! I don't want to marry your s-sister..." the boy pleaded, trying to shield himself.

"Ah, so now you think you're better than her," Redwyne scoffed, his hands aching from the slapping, so he resorted to kicking again. "You think just because you've read some books, you're smarter than the rest of us, huh... Well, you need to remember that you'll always be a fat coward and nothing else—"

Bang

Suddenly, the tormented boy heard a loud thud from above, and the kicks ceased. He cautiously opened his eyes to see a handsome young boy standing in front of him, with a sheathed sword in his hand. Behind him stood a beautiful girl, and at their feet lay the unconscious bully, knocked out by the boy's sword.

"Hello!" the handsome boy greeted with a warm smile while attaching his sword back to his waist nonchalantly, "I am Jon Snow," he said while extending his hand.

Sam flinched at the hand before he realised that he didn't intend to hit him. He blushed slightly as he took Jon's hand who pulled him to his feet with surprised ease, "I-I am Samwell Tarly," he introduced himself with a sniffle.

"Sam," Jon said, walking over the fallen Redwyne to Sam and wrapping a friendly hand around his neck, "Tell me, Are you hungry?"

"Huh..."

...

"What do you think of the boy?" Olenna inquired, taking a piece of cheese from the plate as she and her grandson enjoyed the sun on the balcony, just after the boy from the North had left them rather abruptly.

"About Jon?" Willas confirmed before continuing, "I think he possesses a fierce intelligence, accomplishing quite a lot at such a young age. Moreover, he has a good heart, making him a reliable partner for us for a long time and—"

"Is that it?" Olenna interrupted impatiently, shaking her head. "Is that all you can say? That he's a good boy! Your father would have been able to tell me that. You disappoint me, Willas," she tutted.

"I apologize," Willas responded, bowing his head without changing his expression. "Can you enlighten me then? Tell me what I missed," he asked with patience.

His grandmother was one of the smartest people he knew, always seeing things that he wouldn't be able to in a hundred years. She always told him to look underneath the underneath but he still fell short. Nevertheless, he hoped to learn her skill from her eventually.

"The first thing you should have noticed about him," Olenna began, taking a glass of wine from the nearby table, "is the way he talks and carries himself. It was evident from the start that the boy received a proper noble's education from a young age, which is unusual considering his parentage."

Willas suddenly interrupted her, "But we already know that Lord Stark loves the boy and has raised him alongside his siblings in Winterfell, despite being a bastard. Maybe it's that famous honour that he's known for that compelled him to educate and raise his bastard to adulthood,"

"Honor!" Olenna scoffed, displaying her thoughts about the notion. "Even if that's the case, there are still some traits common among bastards that were completely missing in him."

"What do you mean?"

"Bastards, especially those raised near their noble siblings, often feel envy towards their legitimate brothers and sisters. They crave their parent's love and the respect usually given to their siblings. When they can't attain these things, they become resentful, and it shows in their eyes... But this Jon Snow, I didn't see a drop of that from him... and if I didn't already know, I wouldn't have guessed he was a bastard given the charisma he exudes."

"That's just your prejudice against bastards," Willas responded, shaking his head. "You can't make a mountain out of a molehill just because he's a little confident,"

"Just because it's prejudice, doesn't mean it's wrong," Olenna retorted with a shrug. "And that's not all. The most important thing is the power he wields."

"Power?"

"Didn't you notice how that lass from House Mormont obeyed him, even though she's a noble? Moreover, he was able to demand and negotiate, striking a deal that would impact the whole North without hesitation, as if it was a given... One can only do that if they have the absolute trust of the Lord Paramount. It's a power I don't believe Lord Stark would grant anyone merely because they are his bastard."

Olenna kept one thing to herself – the moment she laid eyes on the boy, something flickered in her mind, as if she recognized him. Yet, she couldn't pinpoint what it was. There was something at the edge of her memory, a missing puzzle piece, eluding her grasp. She knew that if she could capture it, everything would fall into place.

Olenna abruptly turned to Willas and asked, "You're still in touch with that brute from Dorne, Aren't you?"

"Who—Oh! you mean, Obreyn," he said while rolling his eyes, "Yes, we exchange letters from time to time. Why?"

"I need you to write to him and ask him to send some people to look into a few things..." Olenna said with determination, 'Let's see if your history checks out, Snow,'

....

The moment the singer stopped playing the lute, the boisterous tavern erupted into a cacophony of mugs clanging, shoes thumping, and hands clapping, with people hollering for the singer to go again.

The room was dimly lit, filled with the smell of ale and smoke from the hearth. The singer had already performed the popular song "Bear and the Fair Maiden" multiple times at the rowdy tavern's demand, and this time, he was firm in his refusal, thanking the crowd with a smile and a bow, but refusing to pick up the lute again.

All the drunks groaned in disappointment, and an old fisherman, sitting at a table with his two similarly aged friends, called out to the singer, "Come here, Son." The singer happily obliged, sitting at their table with a relaxed smile, "Thank you, Old man."

"That was a good one, Lad, you deserve a drink on me," the old fisherman declared, turning to the bar and shouting, "Give the man a mug and keep them coming."

"Aye!" echoed the barkeep.

"So tell me, lad. Where do you hail from? and What brought you here?" the Singer was already a middle-aged man but considering the old fisherman's age, it was somewhat alright for him to call him lad.

"I am just a small-time wandering singer. I heard there was work to be found here in Barrowtown, so I picked up my lute and hit the road—" He was interrupted as the bartender placed a mug of Ale in front of him. "Thank you!" the singer said, taking a big gulp of the alcohol.

"Ah! That makes sense," the old man said and all three of them nodded their heads understandingly, "You're not the first nor the last. We've been getting a lot of visitors from all over the North recently."

"Aye," said one of the fisherman's friends. "I even heard a crofter saying he came all the way from Dreadfort!"

"The Land of Boltons?"

"Aye, imagine travelling all the way from there."

"Eh! Probably wasn't that hard considering those pink-eyed freaks in charge," the old fisherman scoffed.

"Haha, you got that right," his friend thumped him on the back, and they all shared a laugh.

"So how did it happen," The singer suddenly interrupted, "I mean the last time I came here, there was almost nothing around these parts... No big port... nor that huge wooden building in which they are making those strange horses, and I even saw some carts bringing stones all the way from the Quarries of the Mountain Clans to use for the Mormont castle... I mean it's just a lot has happened in just a couple of years... It's hard to believe,"

The three old men started exchanging strange glances with each other at that, each of them having a subtle smile on their face. The oldest one among them, who had kept quiet all this while, suddenly started speaking in a gruff, "I wouldn't believe it either... if I didn't see it happen with my own eyes. A few years ago all the people here could think about was how they would deal with the next Wildling attack or who would die the next time those Ironborn raiders came to our shores..."

The fisherman took over from there, "And if not that, then we would probably be worrying about how much of our crops we will be able to retain and how much would be destroyed by a sudden summer snow... so All in All there was not a lot we could think about doing except for surviving. But now..."

"Let's just say that we got a hell of a lot of free time on our hands now," the last man finished with a smile.

"Really," the Singer said sceptically, "So they just don't come here anymore?"

"Oh they do, not as much as they used to but, they still do!" the fisherman said before a fierce smile appeared on his face,

"The difference now is that none of them ever leave these islands alive."

"So... you manage to kill all of them? That's impressive."

"Of course!" the fisherman boasted proudly, "Let me tell you about the Wildling attack that happened not too long ago," he with his eyes gleaming, "Those Wildling fuckers thought themselves clever and decided to attack two places at the same thinking to catch us off guard... But do you know what happened in the end," the singer shook his head so he continued with a smirk on his face, "It was all the same anyway as the boy managed to kill off EVERY LAST ONE of them on his own," he finished before he emptied his cup and slammed it on the table with a satisfied burp.

"Not every one of them," the youngest of the three locals chimed in with a lewd smile, "Remember the pretty one?"

The singer's interest piqued, and the others rolled their eyes.

"I've seen her, I swear. She really is pretty! I bet even prettier than those southern lasses... but it's just... she's a Wildling," the youngest added, shaking his head.

"Ah! Fuck that," said the oldest with a growl, "The boy can have all the wildling beauties on that side of the wall if he wants to... considering all he's done for us,"

"Aye!" "Aye!" Both of them immediately agreed at the fierce look in the old man's eyes.

"It's really not much of a surprise, is it," the youngest said after a while, "Considering whose blood runs through his veins..."

"The boy," the singer suddenly interrupted again, "What did you say his name was..."

"Jon Snow!"

"Aye! This Jon Snow," The singer took a sip nonchalantly and asked, "Where do you think I could find him," he hurriedly continued at their suspicious looks, "You know I figure he would have some work for me..."

"Out of luck, lad," the fisherman shook his head. "He's not here at the moment."

"He's not on Bear Island?" The singer asked anxiously.

"Forget Bear Island," the youngest interjected, "He's not even in the north. He's sailing the open ocean seas far down south... probably enjoying that pretty Wildling—"

The Singer abruptly stood up,

"I should go now if I want to find an inn before dark," he said, pointing towards the dimming sun rays outside the window.

"Ah! Better hurry then," the fisherman nodded. "There's a good one in the middle of the market. Tell him Ryan sent you. Maybe he'll give you a discount."

"Thank you," the singer said and hurriedly left the tavern.

The moment he stepped a foot outside, all the rowdy noises of the tavern were muffled by the wind, he immediately lowered his head and took off but not towards the centre where the inns were, instead towards the exit of the town.

Only a few dozen minutes later, he had left all the man-made buildings behind him and before long, trees started appearing in his path but the singer didn't stop even for a second and entered the dense forest without hesitation even though the sun was just about to set. It took him about half an hour of brisk walking and climbing before he reached a cave hidden in the mountains.

He immediately sagged in relief as he saw the entrance of the cave and was almost about to enter when his instincts started screaming that something was wrong.

And his fears were realised when he saw his companion, the red-haired lass slowly coming out of the cave, but he noticed that her hands were tied, and a gag muffled her voice. Another girl, around the same age, stood close, holding a dagger to the red-haired girl's throat and guiding her forward.

The red-haired girl's eyes widened as if trying to convey something urgent. Fear and urgency gripped the singer, and he instinctively reached for his sword, but he froze when he suddenly heard a voice behind him, "Ah! Ah! Ah! I wouldn't do that if I were you... Now raise your hands and slowly turn around... That's right, Slow and easy..."

The singer slowly turned around to find a man standing behind with a bow in his hands with an arrow knocked straight at him, "Welcome home singer...or should I say, Mance Rayder, The King-Beyond-The-Wall," the young man said with a smirk on his face.

...

"Take it slowly, Sam," Jon said with a gentle smile as he looked at his new friend stuffing his face, "No one's going to steal the food from you."

They were sitting in a tavern, different from the one that Val went to as she was probably banned from there. Jon had ordered a lot of food for both him and Sam, and the moment it had arrived, the round-faced boy had immediately dug in after a small hesitation.

"I don't know about that," Val said glumly while glaring at Sam with envy in her eyes. Her heart wanted to eat, but her stomach wasn't agreeing.

"I am sorry," Sam said while looking down, afraid to meet their eyes.

"Don't be," Jon said, squeezing the boy's shoulder comfortingly, "You have nothing to apologize for."

"I-It's just my f-father never lets me eat my fill," Sam said, trying to explain, "A-And the Redwyne twins hadn't let me eat since last night so... so I was really hungry."

"Your father doesn't let you eat your fill, and you're already this fat!" Val said in disbelief, "What would happen if he does?" she asked incredulously.

"Shut Up, Val!" Jon groaned at the Wildling who was ruining all his attempts to calm the boy down.

"No, it's alright," Sam said to Jon with a forced smile, "It's nothing I haven't heard before... And Besides it's not like I want to be fat...but no matter what I do or I am made to do I just n-never change—"

"That's just bullshit," Val scoffed, "You're just spoiled! A few days beyond the wall and you'll either survive and become fit or become someone's food, and considering your size... you'll probably feed a whole village of Thenns."

"Ignore her," Jon said in assurance to Sam, who was looking at Val with wide eyes, "And what do you mean, what you're made to do?"

"Mmm... M-My father," Sam said bitterly, "H-He doesn't like that I am this fat, and he has tried everything to make me better...He dressed me in my mother's clothes to humiliate me... a-and forced me to sleep in chainmail, and even once had Quartheen warlocks pour Aurochs blood on me to raise my valour," Sam's voice quivered but still, he maintained his smile, "A dozen master-at-arms...throwing me into the Horn Hill's pond to teach me to swim...he tried everything he could to raise me into what he considered a proper heir...but nothing worked..."

There were a few minutes of silence before Val leaned forwards and fiercely said, "You should just kill that bastard in his sleep and be done with it," and ignoring the boy's horrified gaze, she asked confusingly, "And besides, if you hate it that much, Why didn't you just leave?"

"Where would I go?" he said with a sad shrug, "I am a coward and clumsy and not useful for anything... so who would even want me..."

"You're right about that—"

"Do you want to come with us," Jon suddenly interrupted Val and looked at Sam with a serious expression.

"Come with you?" Sam asked with incomprehension on his face.

"Yes, Travel with me, work for me," Jon nodded before his voice suddenly took on a alluring tone, "You can see the world... Read books from all over Westeros and Essos... meet people from all the kingdoms...see magical wonders like the Wall or the Titan of Braavos and a lot more..."

Sam's eyes immediately lost focus as he started imagining all the things that Jon was making him see. An unconscious smile appeared on his face as he imagined a future where he wouldn't have to be scared of his father, where he could read and eat as much as he wanted and see all the wonders of the world.

"But why would you even want him?" Val interrupted, bringing him back to reality.

"Y-Yeah, she's right...Why would you even want me?" Sam said despondently, "I can't fight to save my life, and I am too slow for any kind of labor, the only thing I can do is read and write..."

"That's enough," Jon said with a small smile while looking into Sam's eyes confidently, "I don't care if you don't have any fighting skills or can't do any physical labor... more than enough people around the world can do those... but you have something else in abundance that is not very common in this world."

"What?" asked Sam and Val simultaneously.

"Your mind," Jon said tapping Sam's temple, "The most dangerous weapon in the world."

Sam's eyes widened as it was the first time someone ever complimented him on something, "So What do you say? Do you want to join us?"

 

[LazyWizard]

In the hazy memories of his days as a brother of the Night's Watch, Mance could only recall a few moments with absolute clarity. Though raised within the walls of Castle Black from a tender age, his time there was marked by shovelling shit, doing chores and rigorous training. And by the time he was a Man he had already deserted the Watch to live as a free man.

But one of the few things he could remember clearly was a profound conversation he had with the ageing maester of Castle Black, just before he left the Watch.

He had just returned from a Ranging where he was hurt by a shadow cat and then nursed to health by a Wildling woman who also mended his torn cloak with swatches of red silk.

But immediately upon returning to the Wall, Ser Denys Mallister told him to get rid of the cloak and said that he was only allowed to wear black.

This infringement of freedom was too much for the young teen at the time who felt that it was too much and he struggled to understand the Watch's stringent rules, especially the prohibition of love, marriage, and personal freedom. Seeking answers, he turned to the maester, whom he considered one of the wisest men he had ever known.

And he could still remember his wrinkly face as he had told him, "Love is the Death of Duty. When you love someone or something, you'll always have to choose between them or your duty,"

Sacrificing personal desires was the inescapable price for fulfilling their solemn duty to protect the realm.

Of course, he didn't understand him at that time as it wasn't a duty that he had chosen for himself and so he had chosen to break free from the Watch and embrace a life beyond the Wall with the Free Folk. There, he found a sense of belonging and even fell in love with Wildling woman who had saved him and who later became his wife.

But now after all these years, he had chosen a duty of his own, a duty to make sure that everyone beyond the Wall doesn't end up a dead man.

He had looked on as the most faraway tribe started to disappear one after the other, he had seen them kill his friends and raise them as their own. He knew that if someone didn't do anything and didn't gather every one of them together to fight, then eventually they would lose everyone. And everyone he knew and loved would become a part of them.

But he also knew that no 'Someone' was coming to save them, no one cared what happened to the people beyond the wall, and, that no one was going to believe them and help them...

So he decided that he would be the one... the one to unite the tribes and ensure their survival, Mance embraced this new purpose.

And now instead of doing that duty... he was on the other side of the wall on behalf of his wife to find her stupid sister and even though he had tried to make her understand that she was probably dead, his wife wasn't ready to believe it as she said that she felt it in her heart that her sister wasn't dead...whatever that means.

Anyway, one thing led to another as he crossed the wall along with Val's friend Ygritte who was eager to go on an adventure to save her.

And lo and behold miraculously somehow when he went to the town to gather news he found out that the lass was actually alive... just that she was under the clutches of someone named Jon Snow.

So he sighed in relief as he thought that it wouldn't take him long to find her and bring her to his wife. But of course, fate wouldn't be a bitch if she let everything go so smoothly, so just when he thought that he was getting too lucky, he was ambushed by two northerners outside the cave he had made his home.

The one who had him at an arrow point was a young man with brown hair and brown eyes, and a face commonly found in the north. While the one who was holding a knife to Ygritte's throat was a lass even younger than the man, she was a comely girl of about fifteen years of age, which was making it hard for him to believe how she'd even managed to subdue someone like Ygritte.

His mind was running fiercely trying to find a solution to their predicament, his eyes were roaming everywhere trying to find something that would help them.

"Don't look so fierce, Wildling King. We are not here to hurt you or anything," said the man who still hadn't lowered his bow.

"Who are you? And how do you know me?" Mance growled with his most dangerous expression, trying to intimidate the young man and considering his massive size and his broad shoulders it should have worked but the man wasn't phased at all.

"Before I answer any of your questions, why don't we get into a more comfortable situation," the man said with a smile on his face, "Because my arms are going to ache tomorrow if we continue to talk like this," he said while jerking his head to the strung bow in his hands.

"Why don't you lower that then? I promise not to do anything to you and your friend... You have my word as a King," Mance said with a nod, trying to look regal as he said that, hoping that the boy will buy his bullshit.

"Ah! Good try, but I am not as naive as I look... I know that you Wildlings have a very different meaning of what a King is," the young man said, while shaking his head, "What I meant was for you to partake in the guest rights," he gestured towards a plate of bread that had been placed beforehand on a nearby rock, "so that we can have a civilised conversation,"

Mance mulled over his offer for a few moments before he asked, "Why is she gagged and bound?" while pointing towards Ygritted who gritted her teeth.

"Oh! That's not our fault. That girl is too feisty, she wouldn't stay still no matter what we said to her," the man said with a shrug and the girl holding the dagger nodded her head rapidly, while Ygritte glared fiercely at them but she didn't try to move much, "so in the end we had to be a bit rough with her and bind her and as for the gag... Well, she's got a very foul mouth on her and we could just couldn't take it when she started to describe very vividly what she would do to my mother and father when she got free..."

'That sounds like her,' Mance thought before he finally sighed and went toward the bread.

From the looks of it, these two didn't seem to have any intention of harming them at the moment so Mance decided that he would go with the flow for the moment.

The tension in their shoulder seemed to leave for a few moments after Mance took a few bites of the bread. "Now, would you please persuade your friend to do the same," the man with the bow said.

Mance looked towards Ygritte and saw unwillingness and anger in her eyes and knew that the girl wanted nothing more than to get her bow and fill both of them with her arrows but they were not in an advantageous position at the moment so he looked firmly into her eyes and nodded.

Ygritte hesitated for a few seconds before she nodded, and the girl holding the dagger loosened her ropes but didn't lower guard until the red-haired lass had also partaken in a bite of their offerings, only then did she lower her dagger and left her to go stand behind the man who had finally lowered his bow.

Shortly after, all four of them were seated on rocks on two sides of the impromptu meeting spot. The tension in the air was palpable as they exchanged awkward glares and stares. The man with the bow, finally broke the silence, introducing himself "My name is Lawrence Snow and my friend here is Asha," he said while gesturing towards the silent girl who nodded politely, "And don't mind if she doesn't speak... because she can't," he said teasingly and Asha immediately swatted his head.

Mance cleared his throat to get their attention, "You already seem to know me and this fiery lass here is Ygritee," he said while taking a swig of an ale presented by Lawerence, "Now...Answer my question, Who are you? And what do you want with us?"

"Our captain calls us minions, and don't ask me what that means because I don't know it," Lawrence said when he saw Mance open his mouth, "And we are here on behalf of our captain who is also the reason we were on the lookout of anyone looking to cross the wall as he felt that someone would probably be coming to rescue that lass Val—"

"What? You know Val," Ygritte suddenly interrupted him, "What have you done with her? Where is she? If you hurt even a hair on her head, I will kill you!" she said while spitting fire from her eyes.

"Ygritte, Calm down!"

Mance intervened, trying to maintain composure. "I already know she's not in Bear Island and is somewhere down south, so... What do you want from us?"

Lawrence reassured them, "Oh, she's not a hostage or anything if that's what you're worried about. In fact, she was the one who snuck onto a ship, thinking that she'd jump aboard when it passed the wall or something, not knowing that it was moving south," he chuckled. Both Mance and Ygritte groaned as that sounded like the Val they knew.

"As for what we want?" Lawrence said leaning in with a serious expression, "We wants to make a trade deal with you... the King-Beyond-The-Wall,"

"What?" Mance asked with a bizarre expression on his face, "You want to trade with us?"

"Oh, not me!!" Lawrence said shaking his hands before him with a smile, "I wouldn't have even imagined that I would ever sit down and talk with anyone from beyond the wall let alone trade with them, it's our captain who wants it..."

There was silence for a few moments before Ygritte turned to Mance with a confused expression on his face, "Is he mocking us?"

"I am not sure," Mance said to her before he asked Lawrence, "And what exactly does this captain of yours want to trade from us?"

"It really depends on what you can provide," Lawrence continued. "Whatever you can find in that frozen land that could be worth something in the south, we are ready to take. Copper, iron, other metals, and our captain even thinks there might be silver and gold mines out there, so if you can find them, all the better..."

Mance's memory was triggered as he recalled a past encounter when a clansman mentioned finding silver in the mountains. At the time, it had no value to their people as it was useless for making weapons and no one there placed any sort of value on that metal so he had completely forgotten about that, but it seems that now...

"—But of course, even if you can't find those, there are other things we are ready to accept, like pelts and fur of fierce creatures that are only found North of the Wall, such as Direwolves, Mammoths, Snow bears, etc. You know, the animals that people in the South consider legends. And if you can somehow find a few alive cubs, then it would be even better. Finally, if you can't find any of those, then we are even ready to accept good quality wood in abundant quantity," Lawrence finished and took a gulp of water from his pouch, it had taken him a lot of time to remember all the details from Jon's letter, so he was very satisfied that he didn't miss anything.

Mance mulled over everything he had heard for a few minutes before he finally sighed and asked the most important question, "Let's assume for a few moments that I can somehow convince some of the Free Man and Woman to leave their spears and sword behind to pick up saws and shovels... What exactly will you give us in return? Because, if it's money, then it would be useless because it's not exactly valuable out there in a blizzard,"

"Of course, we'll trade with the one thing that you're most in need of," Lawrence said confidently and at their confused expression he smiled, "I am talking about Food!"

Ygritte's face lit up with excitement at the mention of food, but Mance burst into loud laughter, "T-That is very funny," he managed to say amid chuckles, "It is a very good joke, you almost had me for a moment," he said, shaking his head with a smile.

"But it's not a joke though," Lawrence said, amusement in his expression, "I am very serious about trading crops and grains with you."

"Do you take me for some ignorant Wildling, boy? Someone who only knows how to swing their weapon and eat," Mance asked with a raised eyebrow, "Let me tell you something. When you were just a wee little toddler sucking at your mother's teats, I was already travelling across the North and beyond the Wall as a ranger in the Watch. I've travelled to Winterfell, to the land of Umbers, and even to the Dreadfort. I know this place like the back of my hand."

Lawrence opened his mouth to say something, but Mance didn't let him and continued, "You think I don't know what people here go through every winter? Do you think I don't know how many of them starve to death or how many fields get destroyed because of sudden summer snow? And you somehow expect me to believe that you have enough crops left over to trade with the Wildlings," he finished with disbelief on his face.

There was silence for a few moments as the Wildling King finished his rant before Lawrence spoke again, "You've been to Bear Islands before, haven't you?" When Mance nodded his head, Lawrence continued, "So you know about the difference between what it is now and how it was before and the sudden prosperity that has arrived on this island. Do you think this is just a temporary thing or a trick?"

Mance started to reply, but Lawrence didn't let him talk, "No, it's not! You say that you've seen the whole of the North, and I believe you, but have you ever been to the South? Have you ever seen the lush fields of crops in the South, where barely anyone ever goes hungry, where every single farm has more crops than they know what to do with, have you even seen their green forests filled with fruits?" Mance didn't reply, and just stared at the boy, waiting to see where he was going with this, "Where do you think my captain is at the moment?"

"In the place you're talking about, I suppose," Mance said, intrigued.

"Exactly," Lawrence nodded with a gleam in his eyes, "He is out there making deals with the southern nobles so that we too can get those cheap crops so that no one here has to go hungry. And he doesn't intend to stop just there, no, he is planning to go big... From Dorne to Pentos to Lys... eventually, every place that has fertile land will be connected to the North by the sea... So you don't have to worry about us ever running out of food to trade with you."

Finally, Mance started to believe a little that it wasn't all half-rambling of a young man and that it could all be true, but he still had doubts, "Why? Why would he—your captain do this? Why would he go to such lengths for the Free Men of the North or the people you call Wildlings?"

"Of course, for the same reason you became a king," Lawrence said with a knowing smile. He had heard a lot about Mance from Jon and knew the kind of person he was, "Because we know about the truth, the creatures that threaten to destroy all living things, we know the future that awaits us... We know about The Walking Dead."

Mance's eyes immediately widened as he stood up in shock, "What! How?"

"Because we have eyes everywhere," he said mysteriously, and for a moment, Mance's thoughts immediately went to the stories he had heard of the man called the Three-Eyed-Raven, but almost immediately, he dismissed that notion as they were suddenly startled by a hawk soaring towards them from a lush tree behind Lawrence. The hawk came to sit on his shoulders comfortingly while the boy kept looking at them with a smile on his face.

It took Mance embarrassingly long to put the clues together, and when he did, his eyes widened even further as he breathed, "You're a Warg!" He didn't know there were any of those left on this side of the Wall.

"We all are," Lawrence said with a smile, and this time, they were even more startled as a massive bear suddenly stumbled out of the forest. Mance and Ygritte tried to stumble backwards to get away, but the boy stayed put, and the silent girl alarmingly went towards the massive brown bear and started actually petting it, which the bear seemed to like from its expression and low growling.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Ygritte shouted, succinctly putting both their thoughts out.

It took a while before Mance calmed down from these sudden surprises, and when he was finally able to put his thoughts together, he asked Lawrence, "And this captain of yours is obviously one too..." When Lawrence nodded, he continued, "Now it makes me want to meet him even more."

"He says that you've met him before," Lawrence said with a smirk.

"Huh? When?" Mance asked, with a puzzled expression, trying to remember if he had ever met someone like that.

"Do you remember that time when you travelled to Winterfell with Lord Commander Qorgyle to meet Lord Eddard Stark, and you were among the Black Brothers escorting him?" It took him a while, but he eventually remembered that trip and nodded, "Well, he says that you caught him and his brother playing a prank, and when you did, you promised not to tell anyone—"

"Those brats!" Mance exclaimed, "I remember them! They were going to prank not just anyone but Lady Stark... But that means..."

"Yes," Lawrence nodded, seeing the wide-eyed look in Mance's eyes, while Ygritte just looked at them with confusion while occasionally glaring at the mute girl and her bear, "One of those boys was Robb Stark, the heir of Winterfell, and the other was our captain, Jon Snow."

"So that brat's already big enough that he becomes a captain and even has people doing his errands," he mumbled to himself with a shake of his head, "I can't wait to meet him then."

"Oh, you don't have to wait," Lawrence said with a mischievous smile, "He's been here all along."

Almost immediately, Mance and Ygritte started to look around the forest vigilantly. They had already been tricked twice, so this time they were going to be prepared... or so they thought. But when something wet touched Ygritte from behind, she looked behind her to find a massive ShadowCat licking her hand and immediately screamed and jumped a meter into the air, "FUCK! SHIT! SHIT! AGH!" she cursed incoherently as she stumbled away from the predator while Mance tried not to have a heart attack as the big cat actually snorted in amusement while going towards the two people from before.

Finished with their pranks and their conversation, Lawrence and Asha started to leave into the trees with a hawk, a bear, and a shadow cat behind them, and the only thing they left behind were the words, "...Remember, we will meet again after three months on your shores beyond the walls, so prepare as many things as you want to trade..."

...

Jon opened his eyes with a mischievous smile on his face, it was quite fun teasing Ygritte who in the other life would have been tickled by the prank on her.

While he had the intention to do something about the people beyond the Wall from the Start, this plan involving Mance and all the Wildlings had only recently taken shape when his minion sent him a letter reporting about two long wildlings entering the North.

It hadn't taken him long to find out who they were and why they were coming, so his mind immediately started spinning a plan that would be his first shot at poking a hole into the White Walkers' conquest plan.

Now, all that was left was to see if Mance managed to convince the wildlings under him, prepare enough things, and bring them to the shore to make his plan feasible.

"Jon!" he heard Dacey call him and stood up from his spot at the planks above on the port, and went towards where she was standing in front of their main ship.

"Are you ready to leave then?"

"Yes," said Dacey, looking behind her at the ship which was fully loaded, "This is the last ship, and everyone's already boarded. I am the last one... So are you really not coming?"

"No, I want to go the Citadel and look into the books there to see if there is some information on a bird I heard about from the people nearby... it is said to be the smallest and the fastest bird in reach, one that is rarely seen... so I hope to find it," Jon explained while looking at the crew members who were waving at him from the ship, "And besides someone needs to be here when our new ships are delivered by the Tyrells,"

"Fine then," Dacey sighed while massaging her head, "It's just that it would be too much work without you. I can already imagine that I wouldn't get a moment's rest..."

"Don't worry, you'll do just fine," Jon said while patting her shoulders consolingly, "Just remember the most important points. The first thing you need to remember is the proper allocation. Two ships will go to Flint's Finger, three ships to Barrowtown, two to Torrhen's Square, one to Stony Shore, and the rest to Bear Island and Deepwood Motte."

Dacey nodded, properly remembering where how many ships filled with crops would be sent. After a few moments, Jon continued, "And another thing you need to make sure of is that no one is to sell anything at more than twice the crop's value—"

"Do we really need to do that?" Dacey interrupted him with a pout, "We won't earn much from that at all. I think that even if we sell them at a bit more, it would still be a lot cheaper than what they are currently buying, so they'll still be grateful."

Jon shook his head and said with a smile, "The people in the North are already not very rich, and we don't really need to earn money from them, especially for food. Besides, there will be enough money coming in the future from selling other things in the South, so money is one thing that we'll never have to worry about."

"Alright," she said with a deflated sigh.

"And you need to pick up enough sailors from our school so that our more veteran sailors can be freed to move to the new Galleons," Jon added.

"Yeah! Yeah, I know," Dacey said before she gave him a hug and started to leave towards the ships, "I'll get going then."

"Safe travels," Jon said, waving his hand as the ship slowly pulled out of the docks. He stayed there watching it drift away until Sam came to him and said, "Jon, the captain says the ship is ready to depart. We should board."

Jon turned to look at the ship they had rented and saw that they had finished loading, so he put his arm around his new friend's shoulder and said with a smile, "Let's go then, and see what the ancient city of Oldtown has in store for us..."

///

 

[LazyWizard]

As the first light of dawn broke through the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, Jon Snow stood at the bow of the ship, his gaze fixed on the distant shoreline that was slowly coming into view. The brisk sea breeze ruffled his dark hair, and the rhythmic creaking of the ship's timbers beneath his feet seemed to echo the anticipation in his heart.

Jon took a deep breath of the morning air and a smile automatically appeared on his face. It had been a long time since he was on a ship that he wasn't commandeering, but being a customer just renting a cabin also felt good from time to time.

And then, through the gentle morning mist, emerged the first sight any arriving sailor sees—the Hightower... said to be older than the city itself. Rising impossibly tall, it seemed to touch the very heavens. Its white stone glowed ethereally in the growing light, and its form was a striking blend of strength and elegance. Jon had seen castles and fortresses before, but this was something altogether different.

And then finally, his destination, Oldtown, a city so old that no one knows how old it is, became visible a few minutes later. It was the largest and richest city in the Seven Kingdoms, although the capital, King's Landing, was more populous.

The Citadel, the greatest seat of knowledge in the known world, home to the Maesters and their Conclave, was located upriver on both sides of the Honeywine River. Boys and Men gather here from all over Westeros and even from Essos, to learn, study and forge a Maester's chain.

Also located in this town was the Starry Sept, the seat of the High Septons for a thousand years, which made Oldtown the unquestioned centre of the Faith for all of Westeros, until it lost that status to Great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing.

As he was lost in taking in the beauty of the city, he felt Sam arrive beside him, who was also in awe of the splendour of the magnificent city, "So did you finish writing the letter?" Jon asked after a few moments.

"Umm... Yes," Sam said, reluctantly taking his eyes away from the beacon of Hightower, "I wrote one for my mother and one for my sister b-but I wasn't able to think of anything to write to my father... J-Just imagining his angry face..." Sam gulped and shivered, before shaking his head.

"How about you get creative..." Jon smirked as he said to Sam, "You know curse him, tell him what a shitty father he was... How he has a stick up his arse or how you'll beat the shit out of him when you grow up... What? Is it too soon?" Jon asked.

Sam's eyes widened in horror as he shook his head fiercely, even the thought of doing things made Sam almost piss his pants, so Jon shrugged, "Mmm... Then maybe not writing one for him is the best... It would probably irk him the most to know that you didn't even consider it relevant to tell him that you're running away..."

"I don't know about that...." Sam said, self-deprecatingly, "I think he would probably be the happiest knowing that I've run away... that I won't disgrace him anymore..." Sam shook his head before he took a deep breath and changed the subject, "Anyway, Where are we going to send these letters from? Are you thinking about borrowing a raven from the Citadel because I heard they are a bit costly and that they charge by the letter..."

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that..." Jon said with a mysterious smile while patting his shoulder, "You just need to think about what you're going to do in Oldtown... you said that it was your dream to become a Maester didn't you... So why don't you come with me and while I check for some information I want, you can see how the people there actually work..."

"Yes... I'd like that," Sam said with an honest smile on his face, just imagining all the books he would have access to, all the history he could read about from the Targaereans to the Doom of Valariya, from the Long Night to the Andal Invasion and so on, filled his chest with jubilance.

Jon looked at the silly smile on Sam's face with pity, "You imagine that if you became an acolyte you would have access to all the books and that all you would have to do is learn, Don't you?"

"Hmm..." Sam let out a confused noise as he tilted his head, "Yes? Isn't that so? I-I mean I know that they have to do some work like copying things but..." he stopped when he was the look of sympathy that Jon was giving him.

"You'll know the truth when you see them... when you see what acolytes actually do... Then maybe you wouldn't be so eager to become one..."

...

"Mom! MOM!! Where are you?!!" cried a 13-year-old girl, rushing around her home in search of her mother.

"Over here!" came the shout from the backyard, and the girl darted through the house toward the back, "Didn't I tell you not to run—"

"A SHIP!" the girl interrupted her mother hurriedly, Her eyes were wide and she was sweating from running all the way from the port, "There's a ship at the port," she said out of breath.

"So? I can't believe you still get so excited about seeing a ship," her mother remarked, shaking her head. She sat on a wooden chair under the shade of a tree in their backyard, knitting a woollen sweater. "Honestly, Sara, when are you going to grow up—"

"You don't understand," Sara interrupted impatiently, finally having caught her breath, "It's filled with all kinds of food from the South like wheat, barley and other stuff and I even saw apples, APPLES! mother, they have apples,"

"What Apples? And who would bring crops at this time of the year..." Sara's mother calmly asked while tilting her head, Her hands hadn't stopped knitting yet, "Where did you say the ship came from?"

"The Reach! REACH" Sara shouted, trying to make her mother understand the urgency of the situation.

"Why are you shouting?" the mother said with a frown, "And do you mean the Reach in the South? I didn't ships went that far south wherever that is..."

"Yes, That Reach! Now, don't just sit there!" Sara said, jumping at her place from all the excitement, "We need to hurry up or all of the stuff is going to be sold out of apples... everyone's already rushing to buy them,"

"Why? It's not like we'll be able to afford it..." the mother said, she still remembered the last that she'd seen apples was when she had got a job as a temporary maid at a feast thrown by Lady Barbery Dustin in the castle of Barrow Hall. She had sneakily stolen a single apple and then when she got home, she and her daughter shared it, and from that day her daughter had become a fan of the fruit and it became her favourite one, not that they were ever able to partake in it again.

"We can! That's what I've been trying to say all this while," Sara said, finally having enough of her mother's tardiness, she snatched the knitting needles and wool from her hand, "HEY!" and then pulled her inside the house ignoring her protest, "It's all stupid cheap! We can easily buy them,"

"What's Cheap?"

"EVERYTHING! Everything's cheap from apples to wheat, everything's being sold for pennies,"

"What? What did you say?" the mother asked in shock.

"Yes, I saw the old lady who lives two houses down from us buy 2 stones worth of wheat at just 30 pennies, and that was just because she only had that much money on her... I think she's going to go with more money and buy more,"

"Are you joking? You know I don't like Jokes—"

"I AM NOT JOKING! Now hurry up," Sarah shouted and finally her mother seemed to get the urgency of the situation as she immediately hurried into her room and took a purse from her hiding place where she had saved some money for some rainy days. She quickly went out of her room to find her daughter impatiently waiting at the door.

"Finally," Sara sighed, when her mother closed the door to their house after wearing her shoes, "Come on!" Sara said and started running while pulling her mother along as fast as she could.

They lived in the quaint town of Barrowton, one of the most prominent towns in the North, where House Dustin had ruled for centuries from their castle of Barrow Hall. The town lies at the confluence of two rivers which flow south into Saltspear.

Their town was usually a calm one, and except for the occasional merchants that came from the Kingsroad, interesting things rarely happened here. But today the whole town seemed to be up and awake, there was an air of excitement everywhere and people were running to and fro from the port to their homes, the people who were going were empty handed while the ones coming from the port had sacks with them along with wide smiles on their faces.

"Calm down," The mother said while huffing, "Or you'll make me fall," but her child wasn't listening at all she pulled through the village road, with most of her neighbours running along with them some in front and some behind her, and none of them even stopped to talk, 'It seems her daughter wasn't exaggerating, after all,'

They reached the port after a few minutes, it was a small one only capable of hosting a dozen ships or a few dozen fishing boats at the same time, which was sufficient for the need of this town in the north as most of their good usually came from the road through Moat Cailin.

It was usually deserted here, but today the moment they reached the port they were immediately hit with a loud cacophony of people selling and buying and yelling prices, women bargaining, and some people being rowdy for no reason. The port was filled to the brim with a crowd of men and women of all ages, it felt as if the whole town had gathered here, the people were surrounding a small circle of sailors who were armed and were making sure that situation didn't spiral out of control, which didn't seem to be working too well.

The mother tried to stand on her tiptoes, but she was barely able to see inside the circle over the people's heads and catch a glimpse of the place her daughter had told her about where the grains from the South were being sold.

Behind the stall were two familiar ships that had been making rounds along the western shore of the North since a few years ago, they were well known for selling those Starkhorses.

"Quick, let's go!" Sara urged, pushing her mother toward the masses.

"But—" her mother protested, apprehensive about the large crowd shoving and jostling to get to the front. However, Sara wasn't about to wait, "I'll go if you won't." She snatched the purse and the empty sack from her mother's grasp, "Wait!" her mother called out, but it was too late. Sara rushed into the crowd without heeding her mother's exclamation, calling out, "Coming through! Make way!"

"Ah! Girl!"

"You! Brat!"

"Don't push!"

"BITCH!"

Amidst screams and curses the daughter skillfully swam between the gaps as he mother watched on until the crowd completely swallowed her. The mother could only wait and pace anxiously as she waited for her daughter to exit.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally saw her daughter emerge from the crowd. Sara skipped toward her with a wide grin, "Are you okay—" Before she could finish her question, Sara presented her with a bulging sack that the girl could barely lift, "Look, Mother, I got so much..."

The mother opened the sack and her eyes immediately widened and she gasped as she looked inside, "But how..."

"And there's more," Sara mischievously revealed, extending her left hand to display two ripe, red apples.

"You got all this with that money?" the mother asked in astonishment. The amount in the purse couldn't have covered a fraction of the grains, and the apples must have been quite pricey too, "Did you steal them?"

"Nope, they weren't expensive at all, and—"

"Excuse me!"

Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by a portly man, his greasy smile making him easily recognizable as a travelling merchant who went from village to village buying and selling, "Hey there, girl! How about selling me those apples? I'll pay you three copper pennies more than what you got them for. How does that sound?"

"Really?" the mother exclaimed, but before she could even think about it, Sara shouted in indignation, "No! You can't them! I brought them, they are mine!"

"I say, girl! you should listen to your mother—" the merchant tried to persuade her but Sara wasn't having it and cursed him, "Fuck You!" and then without waiting, the next moment she immediately started licking all over the apples without leaving a single spot.

"Do you still want them?" Sara said with a cheeky smile as she presented the apples to Merchant who immediately grimaced and went away cursing.

"You little brat..." Sara's mother sighed helplessly as her daughter stuck out her tongue, she was already used to her daughter's antics, "But why didn't that man just buy from them..." she asked while pointing at the stalls surrounded by the people, "...if he wanted more apples?"

"Because they got some rules," Sara said while biting into one of the apples, it was sweet and delicious, "I don't why but they will only sell a limited amount to a single person and a single person can only buy once or something like that,"

"But that would reduce their profits, Why would they do that?" her mother asked confusedly.

"Who knows?" Sara shrugged, not caring about the purpose behind those rules but happy for them as otherwise all the merchants would have already brought all the stocks before she had the chance.

Just when they were about to leave for their home, they suddenly saw the crowd start to disperse with some having satisfied smiles on their face while others groaning in misery, 'It seems all the stocks have been finally finished...' the mother thought.

"HEAR! HEAR!" a sailor came forward and shouted, grabbing the attention of the crowds who were about to leave. When he felt that he had everyone's attention, he went back and the one who came forward was a familiar person, easily recognisable in her leathers with the bear insignia.

"I want to say for those of you who were late and missed out on our cheap goods... Don't worry!" Dacey shouted loudly, "Another shipment will be arriving in two weeks and that one may even have more goods—" The crowd immediately cheered loudly and Sara immediately started jumping on the spot thinking that she could eat apples every week.

"And I promise everyone that they will keep on coming..." Dacey continued while looking everyone in the eye, "So don't bother hoarding them... I am especially talking to all the merchants here, The cheap goods are going to be a regular thing from now on and may even become weekly in the future so don't think about waiting for the prices to decrease to make a profit because... You'll only be disappointed,"

"And lastly, if anyone wants to get recruited the ships will be here until dawn..."

///

 

[LazyWizard]

"It's a sight to behold, isn't it?" Jon breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. Sam nodded in quiet agreement, both men gazing in awe at the imposing spectacle before them.


At long last, they stood at the entrance of the Citadel, a renowned bastion of knowledge not just within Westeros but spanning the vast reaches of Planetos. Poised upon the banks of the river Hoenywine, its spires and domes were connected by grand stone bridges, some wide enough to accommodate bustling houses and market stalls.


They were standing in front of the massive entrance, where the gates were flanked by imposing statues of green sphinxes, creatures of mythical significance with leonine bodies, eagle wings, and serpent tails—two guardians, one male visage, the other female.


Their arrival coincided with the pre-rush hour, attracting a diverse throng: Smallfolk, merchants, and all manner of folk seeking the services provided by the acolytes and novices dwelling within. After absorbing the scene, Jon turned to Sam and said, "Shall we proceed?" With that, he led the way, seamlessly merging into the flow of people streaming toward the dome's entrance.


"Are you sure we won't get caught," Sam asked almost whimpering as he followed after him, fiddling with the acolyte's robes he was wearing that Jon had somehow nicked. He didn't ever imagine that with his cowardice he would do something like sneaking inside the Citadel. He felt as if everyone was staring at him and that any second now someone would recognize them and call them out for frauds and imprison them.


"Don't worry! They won't," Jon whispered assuringly while patting his shoulder, he had spent the last few days scouting and mapping the insides of this humungous place with his special friend. So he didn't have to worry about wandering around like a headless chicken and getting lost and needing to ask for directions. He knew which paths would be the most deserted, and where all the exit points were, as well as had a foolproof plan of entering and exiting so he was sure that nothing could go wrong.


"But what if they do?" Sam asked, his eyes moving left and right while looking away the moment anyone even so much as glanced at him.


The moment they entered the gates, they immediately found themselves in the Scribe's Hearth. Here the citizens and Sailors of Oldtown came to hire scribes, usually, acolytes, to write and read letters for them. The Scribes were sitting and waiting in open stalls with lines of people in front of them. There were also other stalls here that sold, bought and copied books and others even offered all kinds of maps.


"They won't apprehend us," Jon restated, pausing to examine a statue of Dareon I Targaryen mounted on a noble stone steed. The path split here, Jon's gaze shifted to Sam, and he chuckled, "Even if they did, what's the worst that could befall us? Copying books?" He grinned, resuming their journey down the right path meant for acolytes, Maesters, and workers.


They passed by two guards standing on either who didn't even glance at them as they entered, with Sam not even looking up from the floor. If the guards weren't so incompetent, and Jon wasn't so good at acting like he belonged there they would have definitely caught them because of Sam, "T-They could kill us..."


"Who?" Jon scoffed, as they entered a maze of corridors which only a person who used them daily could navigate, "These Maester and Acolytes... who've barely even seen the sun once a week... pfft! As if they could even think of catching me,"


They also passed a monument inside of King Jaehaerys I Targaryen, with a plinth on it that read, "He bound the land together, and made of seven kingdoms, one."


"Now keep your chin up and look like you belong here," Jon said as they were finally on the path to the library.


"But I don't," Sam whined but Jon wasn't stopping at all so he had no choice but to follow.


on had meticulously selected a secluded route, evading the bustling areas. Private chambers lined their path, often serving as lodgings for visiting nobles or Maesters from beyond the Citadel's walls. These chambers provided a direct route to the library—a convenient arrangement that Jon had skillfully exploited.


Just as they were about to turn a corner, they suddenly heard voices coming from the front and from the sound of them, they were two men, one middle-aged and the other one in his 70's or 80's. Swiftly, Jon ushered Sam into an unoccupied room, avoiding any potential interaction.


"I am telling you, Archmaester," the middle-aged man's voice carried, "These innovations could revolutionize our city."


"In what manner, Maester Felix?" responded the elderly man with an intrigued tone.


"Do you know how much of the budget we allocate every month towards just cleaning the street, Archmaester," Felix asked.


"I don't, but I assume that it would be a lot," the Archmaester responded. Oldtown, although the second most populous city in Westeros after King's Landing, maintained wide, fragrant, and immaculate streets—a feat that undoubtedly required significant resources and labour.


"It is," Felix nodded firmly, "And did you know that a substantial portion of those funds is devoted to cleaning up after horseshit? Now, imagine if we could replace these horses with the new invention—Starkhorses. We'd save considerable resources over a long long time..."


"And what of the initial costs of acquiring these Starkhorses?"


"That's a one-time expense," Maester Felix dismissed with a wave. "Moreover, if we execute the plan properly, I believe it could be entirely cost-free, requiring not a single penny from our coffers," he concluded with a triumphant smile.


The Archmaester halted in his tracks at the mention of "cost-free," a nearly magical phrase to someone overseeing the budget. "Explain."


"Firstly, we must ensure that these 'Starkhorses' are readily accessible to all," Maester Felix explained eagerly. "Given their novelty, I'm confident that our citizens—ranging from affluent merchants to modest households—will rush to procure them." He knew that the price might be steep for ordinary smallfolk in other regions, but in Oldtown, where some of the wealthiest smallfolk in Westeros resided, affordability wouldn't pose an issue.


"Go on..."


"Subsequently, after a reasonable period, we would establish a limit on the number of horses and animals permitted within the city. Over time, we could progressively reduce this limit, ultimately enforcing a complete ban. This could be executed without causing much dissent... Naturally, nobles and dignitaries could be granted exceptions."


"Hmm..." The Archmaester hummed thoughtfully, standing still for a moment before saying, "Your concept seems plausible and holds merit. However, this will remain a mere notion unless we can secure a bulk supply of these Starkhorses. As far as I'm aware, they're being primarily created in the North and others have yet to replicate their success. Obtaining a sufficient quantity and transporting them here would prove difficult and costly."


"That is the absolute best part," Maester Felix's voice grew animated, accompanied by a broad smile. "I received a missive just last night from my cousin, a merchant in Highgarden. They've received a substantial shipment of Starkhorses from the North—a supply that will not be limited to a single instance. In fact, it appears there will be a consistent flow."


Archmaester responded with genuine surprise, "That's truly remarkable." As they continued walking, he added, "If you can furnish me with a comprehensive proposal, including the required budget, by the week's end, I'll present it before the conclave."


The voices gradually faded as Jon eased the door open, an amused grin playing on his lips. 'Seems I'll need to correspond with Dacey to amplify production once again,' Jon contemplated with satisfaction. Turning to Sam, who had been on the edge of panic, Jon quipped, "Shall we proceed?"


The rest of their way towards the library was completely smooth and after around ten minutes of walking, they stood before the towering edifice that was the library.


Numerous entrances dotted the perimeter of the library building. The primary entryway, a grand expanse through which a constant stream of people flowed, contrasted with the less frequented one Jon and Sam approached. This entrance was overseen by a lone Librarian seated behind a table. A few log books lay before him, serving as records of those entering and departing, as well as the books borrowed and returned.


"How will we get in?" Sam asked as they hid behind a pillar near the entrance. While it was really deserted here, it would still be impossible for them to enter without alerting the Librarian who would ask them for their identification which they didn't have.


"Fret not, I have a plan," Jon whispered back, his gaze flitting to the nearby bookshelves, and after choosing an appropriate one, he immediately sent an order to his friend.


"How are you going to—" Sam's query was cut short by a resounding thud resonating through the space. A massive tome had toppled from a high shelf. Startled, the Librarian, engrossed in a book, shot to his feet, demanding, "Who goes there?" He hastened toward the source of the noise, muttering, "Do you know how old the books here are—" only to find no one there. He looked around for a while but still didn't find anyone, "Maybe it was a mouse..." he mused before shaking his head and placing the book back in its place.


Unbeknownst to him, two unauthorized teenagers had seized the opportunity to infiltrate the hallowed halls of the Citadel's library.


"How did you manage that?" Sam whispered, awed, as they roved amidst the labyrinth of bookshelves. His gaze danced over captivating titles, each beckoning to him, eager for his perusal.


Jon's response was casual, "Hmm... What do you think?" As he skipped one section after another while searching for the one he wanted, they were going deeper and deeper into the maze. The one or two acolytes that they were coming across started getting scarcer as eventually, only dusty tomes were around them.


He eventually found the section he wanted which had a plate hanging with "BIRDS" written in big letters.


Jon entered that section with Sam mumbling softly behind him, "Did you pay someone to do that for you—But then the librarian would have caught him... Hmm then did you use a thread—But then how did you tie it to the books..." he kept talking to himself in circles making one absurd theory after another and disproving them on his own, "...D-Don't tell me y-you a-are a—" Sam gulped not completing his sentence, his eyes wide open.


Jon's amusement gleamed in his eyes. "Am I a what?"


"A m-magical, like a W-Witch?" Sam's voice trembled.


Jon pondered the notion. "Who knows?" he mused, his tone elusive. "What if I were?"


The bookshelf dedicated to Birds was a huge one and divided into two so skipped the Migratory one and went to the Non-Migratory. After which it was divided by region and the Reach section contained about five books which introduced all the birds recorded of which two were about the ones that had already gone extinct.


Sam hesitated for a while before he finally shook his head and said, "I-It's fine if you are, I think... as long as you don't eat me o-or use my blood for anything or don't sacrifice children or don't offer intestines and blood to the heart tree and other stuff."


Jon almost burst out laughing at that but stopped himself at the last moment, "Those are a lot of conditions but... I promise you that I won't do those things... now take one of these," he handed Sam one of the huge books while carrying the other two, "and let's go..." and they both wandered towards a nearby bench which was almost empty except for an Acolyte who was concentrating on copying an ancient book that was almost crumbling at its seams.


Jon opened the book and was just about to dive into it when he looked up at Sam who was looking at the nearby Acolyte hesitatingly as if wanting to ask something but not daring to, so he helped him.


"Psst! Hey!" Jon called softly. The nearby Acolyte looked up, perplexed. "Yes, I'm addressing you."


"Yes?" the Acolyte responded, puzzled.


"How many years have you been here?" Jon inquired, infusing his tone with authority.


"Five years," the Acolyte answered, baffled.


"Excellent," Jon nodded, "Now, my friend here," he waved at Sam who gave him a forced smile, "wants to know all about what an Acolyte does and what you've had to do since you joined here to become a Maester. So I need you to tell him all that you can about it... You know you're daily routine and stuff. Alright?"


"But Why? Aren't you one yourself—"


"Don't ask questions," Jon interrupted impatiently, "Here take these for your inconvenience," he placed about five silver stags on the table and the acolyte's eyes immediately lit up and all his questions died in his throat he immediately nodded his head like a chicken while pocketing them.


The Acolyte turned to Sam and started speaking after clearing his throat, "I joined here about five years ago and the beginning they..."


With the background noise of Acolyte droning on about his life, Jon scoured through the books to glean the information about the mystical bird he had heard about. He had been just asking about different kinds of usual creatures to satisfy his curiosity when he had heard from an old innkeeper about the Fortune Bird.


The Fortune bird was somewhat of an urban legend here in the Reach, it is said that whoever even catches a glimpse of one would be lucky for a whole year. But they are almost impossible to see as they are not only one of the smallest mature birds they are also one of the fastest birds recorded. They have the widest diversity of plumage colour, particularly in blues, greens, and purples. They were similar to Hummingbirds from his previous life so the moment he had heard about them he wanted to have one for himself.


After about two hours of rifling through page after page of information that wasn't even inserted alphabetically, Jon finally managed to find the information he needed. He read the two pages worth of information more than five times to make sure he didn't miss anything, from their habitats to their mating habits he took note of everything.


Satisfied, he closed the book, a triumphant smile gracing his features. Armed with this newfound knowledge, he knew where to find the mystical avian creature.


Glancing over, Jon noticed Sam's dejected expression, while the Acolyte had returned to his tasks after satisfying Sam's queries.


"Sam," Jon addressed him gently, "It's time to leave."


"Huh? Oh, yes," Sam responded absentmindedly. Once Jon returned the books to their respective shelves, they retraced their steps. The librarian, momentarily distracted by another falling tome, allowed them to exit without incident, cursing the circumstances.


"Are you all right?" Jon inquired, concern lacing his tone as they walked.


"Yes," Sam nodded, forcing a smile. "It's just... I hadn't imagined that an acolyte's duties would encompass so much... chamber pot cleaning and menial chores."


"Don't be troubled by it," Jon comforted, patting Sam's shoulder reassuringly. "We can revisit this library whenever you wish to borrow more books. Remember, this isn't the sole repository of knowledge in the world—there are many such places to explore. Winterfell boasts one of the oldest libraries, and then there's the Wall. You won't be confined to just one place."


"That's true," Sam agreed with a grateful smile. "Thank you."


"Don't mention it."


As they traversed a dim corridor, faint sounds of an argument filtered from within a nearby chamber. Intrigued, Jon cautiously moved closer to eavesdrop.


"What are you thinking, Jon?"


"Shh..."


Jon strained to catch the voices within the room.


"...You cannot simply come and go as you please, My prince. Certain rules must be upheld, even by you—"


"And what might those rules entail, esteemed Archmaester?" a languid voice drawled, dripping with nonchalance. "Furthermore, how do you intend to enforce them, may I inquire?" The voice oozed sarcasm, and Jon's eyes immediately widened as the realization washed over him as to who exactly was in the room.

///

 

[LazyWizard]

Jon gently pressed his ear against the door, feeling its cool surface against his skin. Sam, not being able to contain his curiosity, mirrored his actions after a while, and also leaned against the wooden frame. The door, unlocked from the inside, almost swung open under the pressure of Jon's curiosity. He stopped it just in time, a rush of caution sweeping through him like a gust of wind.


"...You got your 6 links years ago, but you refuse to get the last one to become a full-fledged Maester at that time. So now that you're back, I hope you can work hard on getting the last link because you can't just treat the Citadel like your home where you can just come and go whenever you please," The Archmaester said with slight contempt, "It lowers the reputation of Citadel and I don't even need to talk about your lack of abstinence that a Maester candidate should apply to. Now I hope that you don't expect to be allowed to be this hedonistic when you become a—"


"Ah! I think that we have a misunderstanding here, Archmaester," The voice, that Jon had now identified as the younger prince of Dorne, said absentmindedly, "I didn't actually come here to complete my last chain and become a Maester,"


"Huh? You Didn't?" The old voice asked confused, "Then why did you?"


"To have fun, I was about to head towards Essos for a new adventure and I felt like partaking in a few of the books present here so I just came along for a short visit,"


"T-That's just—" the Archmaester was speechless for a few moments, "So you never intend to actually forge your last link and just want to treat this place like your backyard forever?"


"That seems about right,"


"Y-You can't do that! I won't tolerate the lack of respect you have for this sacred institution. I'll have you banned from the premises and you'll never be able to come back here—"


"Don't care about that... I am leaving tomorrow anyway," Oberyn said before they suddenly heard the sound of leather boots striking the floor as the prince walked toward the Archmaester, his carefree tone suddenly taking a dangerous turn, "But my dear Archmaester, you should really be careful who you offend, who knows what could happen in your old age," he said patting his shoulder with a smile on his face.


"A-Are you threatening me," Archmaester gulped as he unconsciously took a few steps backwards when he looked into the eyes of the man who was believed to be half mad and the most unpredictable noble from Dorne.


"Oh no no... I am not threatening you," Oberyn said, he had a smile on his face but his eyes were cold as ice, "I am just saying that you have plenty of acolytes working under and you haven't exactly been kind to them over the years... Who knows which one of them hates you for it and suddenly one day one of them decides to take drastic action and a drop of unknown liquid drops in your food or your drink... It would be quite unfortunate wouldn't it,"


The Archmaester shivered, realizing that Oberyn wasn't merely boasting and that he was perfectly capable of acting on his threats.


"I-I-I will—"


"That'll be all, Archmaester," Oberyn said abruptly as he turned his back on him and went back to his seat. He picked up the book about poison that he was reading and placed his feet on the table, "I am sure that you have a lot of work to do, so don't let me keep you."


There was pin-drop silence for a few moments before the door opposite them opened and closed as the Archmaester hurriedly left. Jon smiled as he moved away, thinking that he had acquired a good piece of gossip about the Viper of Dorne. 'Maybe he would be able to use it in the future if he ever meets him,' he mused.


Just as Sam was about to move away and join Jon, Oberyn's voice echoed from inside, startling them both. "You can come out now."


They exchanged alarmed glances, both of them thinking that they had been caught. Sam's hand twitched in his panic, inadvertently pushing the door open, "OH! NO!" "SHIT!"


Stumbling, they found themselves in a medium-sized room with a window on the right side and a large table in the middle. One of the chairs was occupied by Oberyn. Beside the door, a cupboard stood partially open, and on its threshold stood the other occupant of the room—the person Oberyn had likely instructed to come out. The same panic and fear reflected in his face mirrored the teens' emotions.


Oberyn's eyes widened in surprise as he looked up at the sound of the door opening, to find two teens in acolyte clothes and they were almost falling over each other as if they had just been pressed to the door.


"Well Well Well... Looks like we caught a bunch of little rats eavesdropping," Oberyn said in a calm tone, his hawk-like eyes sharply examining the two teens, the Fat one was sweating profusely and almost quivering in his place at the sight of him while the Tall handsome one swiftly stood up straight and regained his control over his expression remarkably quickly.


"There seems to be a misunderstanding, My Lord," Jon said calmly, bowing elegantly, "We weren't eavesdropping on you, we were just passing by and roughhousing with each other when I accidentally pushed my friend here too hard and he unintentionally opened the door, Right Sam?"


Sam quickly nodded his head and Jon continued while pushing Sam towards the exit and simultaneously backing away, "So I am sorry for the interruption and we'll get out of your hair and be just on our way,"


Oberyn looked at them with an amused expression on his face while putting the book in his hand on the table and taking his feet off the table, "You think that I'll believe that lame—"


"I'll take care of it, F—My Lord," The boy interrupted while slowly walking towards them with his hands hidden behind him. He was a comely boy their age with skin the colour of teak and a slender physique with curly black hair and big black eyes, "I am sure they are telling the truth and just made an honest mistake," he gave Oberyn a cute smile before turning to them, "Farewell then, I'll close the door behind you,"


"Thank you! Thank you!" Sam said while bowing, his body almost sagging with relief as he thought that they had been let go but just as he felt that he was very lucky today, he felt Jon put a restraining hand on his shoulder stopping him from leaving. When he puzzledly turned to Jon to ask him why, he saw him looking at the Dornish boy with a calm smile on his face.


"Why the pause?" the boy inquired, innocence radiating from his expression. "Didn't you just mention your intention to leave?"


Jon met the boy's gaze, his eyebrow arched inquisitively. His gaze shifted between Oberyn and the Dornish boy, his tone steady. "Leave, we will. But only if you promise not to strike us from behind with your hidden blade—"


The word "blade" hung in the air for a moment, pregnant with tension. Suddenly, the Dornish boy lunged at Sam, a hidden dagger poised to strike. His target was the weaker link, the fat one first.


"Allears No!" Oberyn's voice rang out urgently. He sprang from his seat, his initial calm demeanour shattered. From the beginning, Oberyn had sensed a calculated calmness in the tall boy's demeanour and the way his eyes roamed around the room, taking everything in. He knew that he wasn't some weak acolyte, instead, he was a wolf in sheep's clothing, but it was too late.


Just as the dagger was about to pierce into the fatty's gut, Alleras's hand was caught in a steel-like grip by the tall boy's hand that came out of nowhere like lightning. Alleras looked up into the Northern boy's eyes to find them not even a little bit surprised as if he was expecting it from the start. Alleras tried to pull the hand holding the dagger but the boy's hand was like hard rock as it didn't even budge a little bit instead he was pulled instead.


A swift, expert movement allowed Jon to disarm the boy, the dagger now poised at his own throat.


Oberyn sprang into motion, but his progress halted as Jon's words cut through the air. "Make no hasty moves, or you'll regret them," Jon's voice held a calm resolve. He held his ground, his gaze meeting Oberyn's chilling stare. At that moment, Jon understood that any sign of weakness could not be afforded in the presence of the Viper of Dorne.


"Sam, Close the door."


"Huh?"


"Now!" he hissed, urgency in his tone. Sam reacted swiftly, shutting the door promptly. Jon's quick decision was motivated by the desire to avoid any wandering Maesters stumbling upon the tense situation unfolding before them. It would be quite the ordeal to explain.


"You do know who I am, boy?" Oberyn's voice carried his distinctive Dornish drawl. A dagger, similar to the one held by Alleras, had materialized in his hands at some point. His gaze locked onto Jon's face, assessing his chances of taking him out with a throw.


As if sensing Oberyn's intentions, Jon preemptively cautioned, "Don't even think about it." In an instant, Jon manoeuvred his body and his hostage, concealing himself behind her. "I know you're Oberyn Martell, the prince of Dorne, the Red Viper—please don't!" Jon directed his words at Alleras, who squirmed in his grasp and tried to free his hands, both of which were behind him in Jon's right hand, his single hand big enough to hold both of his, "We're both aware that the dagger is poisoned. I don't want to cause any irreversible harm, so try not to struggle." he said and the Dornish boy immediately stopped as he felt the dagger a hair's breadth away from his throat.


"You know who I am, and yet you take such a reckless action," Oberyn's eyes narrowed, his gaze penetrating. "You're either incredibly foolish or remarkably brave."


"I'll choose Brave if it's all the same," Jon replied with a hint of forced amusement. His mind raced, seeking the ideal resolution that wouldn't involve offending a powerful leader like Oberyn. "I have no intention of harming anyone. I only wish to leave here with my friend, without losing our lives in the process,"


"Why not release the boy? I promise not to harm you," Oberyn's words carried an attempt at a trusting expression, though it was a difficult feat for him. "You have the word of a prince."


Jon's smile remained faintly amused as he declined the offer. "A good effort, my prince. But no." Jon's tone remained firm. "I'm sorry to say this, but your reputation for honour isn't exactly impeccable." Even Alleras snorted at that while Oberyn just had a dumbfounded look on his face, knowing that his reputation was this bad among the masses, "I need you to place the dagger in your hands on the table and take back your seat,"


"You're audacious," Oberyn scowled, clearly unaccustomed to a teenager giving him orders. His tone turned threatening, low and dangerous. "You must realize that I only need to call out once... and any chance of your leaving this Citadel alive would vanish."


"You're correct. You could indeed do that," Jon shrugged indifferently. "However, you'd also need to explain to them why a boy, that I am holding captive, was found in your room."


"What does—"


"My apologies! Did I say 'boy'? I meant 'girl'!" Jon corrected himself, a cheeky grin lighting up his face. The effect on Oberyn was remarkable—he went from a smug expression to complete astonishment. The girl in Jon's grasp, who had been masquerading as a boy, froze at the sudden revelation. "If I had to hazard a guess, the hostage in my hands is one of your illegitimate daughters. She likely desired to study at the Citadel, and you're here to facilitate that. Something along those lines. Am I correct?"


Silence hung in the air briefly before Oberyn's wide smile broke through. "Impressive. You've seen through me," he admitted, his swagger returning as he moved back to the table. Placing the dagger upon it, he resumed his seat. "I would be worried about you giving me out, But... you two aren't exactly normal acolytes, Are you?" he asked with a smug grin


"I don't know what you're talking about," Jon maintained a straight face, while Sam shifted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact.


"The moment you both entered the room, I sensed something amiss," Oberyn began, his feet once again finding their place on the table as he made himself comfortable. "Your robes don't fit quite right. Neither of you bears the ink-stained hands common to acolytes. And you," he pointed at Jon, "you're too physically fit, too calloused for a regular acolyte. So, if I were to speculate wildly, I'd say... you're both nobles impersonating acolytes—perhaps for pranks, theft, or some other dubious endeavour. Isn't that right? So I think If we were to call for any nearby Maesters, you would still be in deeper waters still... After all, I AM The Prince of Dorne,"


Jon's eyes twitched at the satisfaction lacing Oberyn's words. "Let's assume, just for a moment, that your wild theory is true, which it isn't," Jon responded, his raised eyebrow underscoring his scepticism. "How did you conclude that we're nobles?"


"Well... It's because even after learning my identity, you continued speaking so comfortably," Oberyn shrugged.


"He's right," Alleras suddenly intervened with a smile, slightly turning her head towards Jon, "Not many dare to talk back to him, especially commoners,"


The tension that had gripped her before seemed to have dissipated now that she believed the danger had passed.


"Well... perhaps you're not as fearsome as you believe," Jon murmured to himself, his voice barely audible. He continued louder, unfazed by Oberyn's presence. "Ahem... Anyway, since we both have something on each other and don't want to involve the Citadel, it seems we're at an impasse." Jon turned his attention to Sam. "So, we'll take our leave. Sam, open the door."


Sam wasted no time, promptly complying with Jon's request. As the door opened, Jon directed his attention back to Sam. "You go ahead. I'll follow up shortly. Oh, and take that book on poisons with you." Jon gestured towards the book on the table near Oberyn. "It might prove useful in the future." Sam gulped, hesitating for a moment before mustering his courage. He retrieved the book, casting a final look towards Oberyn, then hurriedly exited.


"You don't mind if I borrow that book, do you?" Jon's voice held a casual tone as he began to edge toward the door, still keeping his gaze fixed on Oberyn. Without waiting for a response, he added, "I heard you're heading to Essos. I have some plans to venture there as well in the future. I'll make sure to return it to you should our paths cross again. Farewell until then." With that, Jon gently pushed Alleras towards Oberyn and swiftly left the room, closing the door behind him.


Alleras appeared poised to follow, but Oberyn's raised hand stopped her. A mysterious smile played on his lips. "Let it be," he advised, his eyes fixed on the closed door. "I have a feeling this won't be the last time I encounter that Northerner."


....


"...Our ships have been vanishing for weeks," Alyn Orkwood's voice resonated with an underlying intensity as he recounted the troubling events. His scowl etched deep lines on his weathered face. "Once or twice might have been a coincidence, but the frequency is too uncanny. Both of these men can vouch," he gestured toward Goodbrother and Tawney, both confirming his words with solemn nods. "We've uncovered the responsible party."


Balon Greyjoy, leaning back in his chair, appeared to be grappling with boredom as he listened. The atmosphere was thick with nonchalance in his solar at Pyke.


"And who, pray tell, is this sinister culprit?" Balon's tone dripped with indifference, a stark contrast to the gravity of the matter at hand.


"It's the Northerners," Alyn spat, "The fuckers Mormonts to be exact,"


Balon's reaction was far from what Alyn had anticipated. The Lord of Pyke erupted into raucous laughter, the sound filling the room. "The Mormonts, you say? Hah! Bear fuckers, stealing our ships?" He took a hearty swig of ale as if the notion was utterly preposterous.


"I know, it's hard to believe those tree-loving Greenlanders are capable of such," Alyn asserted resolutely, unmoved by Baleon's mirth. "One of my captains swears he saw our distinct ships at what's become of the port on Bear Island—"


"A port?" Balon interjected, incredulity painting his features. "You dare call that shack on Bear Island a port?"


"They've managed to construct one in recent years."


Balon shook his head in disbelief. "Beggars and thieves, that lot. Do they even have enough coin for that?"


"Yes. It appears they've garnered enough resources," Alyn confirmed, his tone unyielding. "My proposal is that we muster a fleet and sack this budding port before it grows further—"


Balon's rebuttal was swift, his demeanour sombre. "We can't," he asserted, rising from his seat with a heavy sigh. "The time isn't ripe. We're too weak at the moment, Besides... they've my son."


"Your son isn't in the North," Alyn argued, his determination unwavering. "If we strike under the cloak of night, with our banners veiled, none shall be the wiser—"


"Absolutely not!" Balon's retort held finality. He stood resolute, his resolve unshaken. "Not yet. We must wait, and bide our time. The moment shall come when we make them all pay the Iron Price," his words were almost a murmur as he departed the chamber.


Goodbrother broke the silence, the question on everyone's minds voiced. "Are we going to just let it go then?"


Alyn's response was fierce, his resolve unwavering. "No, we won't. Our fleet alone will be enough to show them their place. We'll make those bastards rue the day they dared to underestimate us."

///

 

[LazyWizard]

"Eh, which one is that?" Bran asked innocently with a cute tilt of his little head and a frown on his face as he pointed towards the intricate wooden board.

"That is the Queen," Sansa answered absentmindedly, her attention divided between the conversation and the board between Robb and her father.

It was around noon just before lunch was to start and they were seated around the familiar high table in the Great Hall, which lay deserted, save for their family. Robb and Eddard occupied one side of the table, Bran rested comfortably on Sansa's lap, while Arya sat a bit farther away, since she had already been reprimanded twice for being too loud and distracting.

"That's stupid," Arya remarked, her face scrunched up. She glanced up at her sister, challenging, "The Queen doesn't know how to fight; she only knows how to wear dresses and look pretty. How come that piece is the most powerful and can move all over the place?"

Sansa patiently explained, "The Queen represents the Queen's family, just like the White King represents the Royal Family and the Black one the Rebel King." She recalled asking the same questions to Jon when he had introduced this game during his previous visits. "Can you tell me who the current Queen's family is?"

"I know! I know!" Bran said, jumping excitedly on her lap, "It's The Lannisters! Isn't it?"

"That's right," Sansa confirmed, wearing a proud smile as she affectionately rubbed Bran's head. He basked in the praise, his chest puffing up. "Seems like someone's paying attention to the Maester's lessons."

"Humph! I knew that too," Arya said pouting before she suddenly pointed at another towering piece on the board. "Tell me then, what is that?" she challenged Bran, who shook his head, unable to recall this one.

"That is the Navy representing the Royal Navy," Sansa answered for Bran while fondly rubbing Arya's head despite her protests, "And both sides have two of these."

Bran, still curious, questioned, "How come it can't move straight and can only go sideways?" His eyes followed Robb's move as he captured one of their father's Navy pieces.

"Hmm... Maybe it's because the Navy uses ships that can only traverse through water and not land so that's why on the board it can't move straight and can only move diagonally," Sansa said with a shrug, as this wasn't a question she had asked Jon but what she had said seems like a reasonable explanation, "And the last two big pieces are the Knights and Lords,"

"Knights?" Bran's eyes sparkled with awe. "Like from the stories?"

"Yes," Sansa said with a knowing smile, she knew her little brother was obsessed with the stories of Knights and their gallantry, "And the Knights here represent the Cavalry and since they are one of the fastest ones on land, they can jump from place to the other, regardless of who's blocking them. And those towers that somewhat look like the first keep... are called Lords. They represent the Lord Paramounts, and like the Knights and the Navy, each side has two."

And Just as she said that Robb took one of Father's Lord with his Queen, with a smirk on his face while her father just made his next move expressionlessly

Sansa smiled and replied, "Those are the pawns, also known as foot soldiers. The two Lord Paramounts each bring two pawns, while the Queen brings three. One of them represents the King's personal army, the Kingsguard, making a total of eight pawns for each side."

Arya interjected, nodding sagely, "Those are the weakest ones."

Sansa disagreed gently, "No, that's not always the case, you know. If they manage to get close enough, they can take out anyone, from Knights and Lords to even the Queen. They can even scare away the King. And if, somehow, they reach the end—your home—they can transform into any piece on the board except for the King."

Bran, perplexed, frowned and said, "That's not making sense."

Arya chimed in, "That's what I said."

"Hmm... Let me think," Sansa said with a pondering expression, before her face suddenly lit up, "Oh I know... Tell me, Do either of you remember that story about Ser Barristan Selmy and the Defiance?"

"Yes! Yes! I know!" Bran immediately answered, jumping up and down, "Ser Barristan Selmy sneaked into the Dun Fort, the seat of House Darklyn and rescued King Aerys, and even killed Symon Hollard during the escape to avenge his fallen Kingsguard brother,"

"That's right," Sansa nodded with a smile, "And that proves my point... What a whole army with Lord Lannister at its head, couldn't accomplish, Ser Barristan, a single Kingsguard, managed to achieve once he infiltrated the castle."

While Sansa was teaching her younger sibling the game called Chess that Jon said he got from a sailor from somewhere in Essos, most of her focus was still on the board. That's why she could easily see how Robb was on the verge of losing. Her brother was a very aggressive player, and he was somewhat obsessed with the Queen. If his own Queen was in danger he would protect it with all his might somewhat even willingly losing a few important pieces and similarly, he wouldn't be able to resist the lure of Father's Queen and lose the game in two moves.

Sansa almost opened her mouth to help him but stopped at the last moment since she knew her father would want him to make mistakes and learn from them.

"Aha! I got your Queen," Robb exclaimed triumphantly as he made a move. "You lose in three moves, Father. My Lord goes here, and then my Navy moves there, and it's checkmate."

"You're correct," Eddard replied calmly, acknowledging Robb's impending victory. "You can indeed trap my King in three moves and win. However..."

"No! Noo!! No 'howevers'!" Robb panicked, frantically reevaluating his moves.

"You lose in one," Eddard declared, moving his Lord piece from its corner of the board to the other side, effectively trapping Robb's King, which was smothered behind his Pawns.

"Ahhh!! Shit!" Robb cursed, his face as red as his hair. Sansa could understand him as the Chess Rage one feels when you lose at the last moment because of a blunder is very real and blinding.

"You're adept at tactics, Robb, and you excel in short-term moves," Eddard remarked calmly while resetting the board. "But you need to remember to always see the whole board, think about the long game and keep your home safe, otherwise you'll win the battles but lose the War, Understand."

"Yes, Father," Robb replied, wearing a slight pout.

"Move over, Robb," Sansa said, standing up with an excited smile on her face, "It's my turn now,"

"Aww, But I want to play another game,"

"I want to play, too," Arya said, even though she never finishes and always messes with the board when she starts to lose.

"Me too! Me Too!" Bran followed excitedly.

"Get lost! both of you," Robb said pushing his smaller siblings away from the board, "We only have this one board and you don't know how to play anyway—"

"I do! Idiot!" Arya said and immediately started hitting Robb angrily with her small punches and then they all started shouting and fighting each other.

"Calm down, Kids, You can take turns," Eddard attempted to restore order, though his voice was drowned out in the chaos. He sighed inwardly, thinking, 'Where's Catelyn when you need her?'

Suddenly, the small door behind them creaked open, and in shuffled the ageing Maester. He took one look at the squabbling siblings, promptly ignoring them, and loudly summoned Eddard, "My Lord, a moment!"

Eddard stood up with visible relief. "You all can play together now. Sansa and Bran will be on the same side, and Robb and Arya on the other."

"But—"

"No Buts!" He immediately quelled their protests, and quickly exited the Great Hall with the Maester at his heels, "What is it, Maester Luwin?"

"I've finished compiling a list of all the big and small farmers near the Western Shore, that would be the most affected by the Good from reach, My Lord," said Luwin while handing Eddard the list, "I've already started contacting them with your offer and the last of them would be reached by the week's end,"

Eddard's relief was palpable as he said, "That's excellent, and the timing couldn't be better. I am already hearing a word about the huge quantities of cheap grains entering all over the western shores, so we need to get ready as soon as possible."

Concern creased Maester Luwin's brow as he inquired, "My Lord, are we truly going to purchase from all of them?"

"Yes, It is my duty as their Lord," Eddard nodded while giving back to the Maester the list, "While it would be a good thing for the Smallfolks to have access to cheap food, we cannot allow our own farmers and merchants to suffer losses when demand suddenly drops. Even if they don't profit greatly, I'll ensure they don't endure significant losses. Besides the last time Jon was here, we extensively discussed all the steps we could take to handle the fallout from the sudden influx and we decided to use the profits from selling Starkhorses in the East towards stabilising the repercussions,"

"That sounds relieving," Maester said with a smile, feeling proud that Jon was thinking ahead and was using all the economics lessons he had taught him, "At least, this way we can handle all the internal things... As for the external," the Maester shook his head with a sigh, "I fear that a lot of Nobles will be angry with us in the near future, especially those who derive a substantial portion of their income from exporting to the North, like your Goodfather and his allies, not to mention the indirect ones like the Frey's... Most of the wealth Lord Walder is sitting on was made from charging exorbitant tolls for people travelling from South to North, especially those Merchants who carry food... so he's bound to grumble when the profits suddenly fall,"

"Don't worry, We won't stop all the import and we can always use more food, after all, Winter is Coming, " Eddard said nodding sagely, "And besides the Eastern shores are too far for the food from Reach to be transported feasibly, so the impact won't be as huge and moreover I already wrote a letter hinting to my good father that we would be decreasing our imports a while back, so I think he and his allies would have made enough preparation to move the good somewhere else like the Marches, Stormlands after all, we aren't the only ones with a scarcity of food... And as for Walder," Eddard's face immediately scrunched up in disgust as the image of that slimy face appeared in his mind, "that bastard has been leeching from the North for generations so... FUCK HIM,"

Maester Lewin was only shocked for a few seconds before he chuckled and said, "As you say, My Lord, FUCK HIM,"

....

Dacey almost fell as she staggered from the sheer relief she felt when she finally saw the iconic Hightower from afar. This journey had been exceptionally gruelling, and she couldn't be happier that it was finally over.

When Jon had been the one in charge and accompanying her on these voyages, she hadn't fully grasped the intricate complexities of traversing the seas while looping around Ironislands and constantly sailing day and night. It was only now, as the Captain herself, that she truly understood the myriad challenges involved.

Every few hours she would have to go back inside to try and warg into Cory, her Orca, so she could navigate as she wasn't a freak like Jon who could do it all with his eyes wide open. Charting their course, ensuring the well-being of the other ships, and tending to various captaincy duties left her with little respite. And she had to be even more vigilant during the night when the chances of them getting off course would be even higher, so she hadn't had a good night's sleep in quite a while.

To add to the already challenging circumstances, this time all the ships were crammed to capacity with people and Starkhorses because she had to bring excess people that would crew the new Galleons that they would be getting from the Tyrells, and since it was only their second voyage, they couldn't compromise on quantity, as most of the cargo had already been pre-booked by previous buyers. It made for an exceedingly cramped and demanding journey for everyone involved.

So all in all it was a very difficult trip for her and she was glad that it was finally over.

...

Several hours later, they reached their destination port. The main ship, upon which she had sailed, was the first to dock. Stepping off the plank, Dacey was taken completely by surprise when a vibrant blur streaked past her face. "Ahh—!" She exclaimed, startled, her heart racing as she teetered dangerously close to falling into the water. In the nick of time, Brian, who was following closely behind her, used his long arms to prevent her from plummeting.

"Are you alright?" Brian inquired as he steadied her and stepped onto the dock.

"What in the Seven Hells was that?" Dacey asked, both annoyed and bewildered, her eyes darting around in search of the mysterious intruder.

"I think it was a bird or something," Brian suggested. Almost as he uttered those words, the colourful apparition darted past them again. This time, Dacey caught a glimpse of the bird as it briefly hovered before her, its lightning-fast movements making it nearly impossible to follow.

It was about the size of her fist and the bird's beauty was astonishing, with a radiant emerald green crown, bronzy green feathers, and a violet throat. Its long tail extended well beyond its body, with the upper part shimmering in iridescent blue and the underside a deep bluish-black.

*Chirp* *Chirp* *Chirp*

"What the hell is wrong with this madbird..." Brian muttered, attempting to capture it as he clapped and leapt around but was having no luck.

The tiny critter kept zipping away and flicking back across their faces, almost as if it wanted them to follow her. And suddenly, it clicked inside Dacey's mind.

"So, he succeeded..." she mumbled to herself, recalling her conversation with Jon before her departure and his reason for staying behind. "Wait! Brian, stop! Forget about the bird; I'll handle it." She lowered his hand. "Can you ensure the rest of the ships dock properly?"

"Yes, of course. But where are—" Brian began to ask.

"I'm relying on you, Brian," Dacey interrupted while moving backwards towards the direction the bird was cruising in, "I'll be back in a few hours so Don't worry. And remember to take all the crew except for the guards to the same inn we used the last time, as I am sure Jon already booked it for us. You got it?"

"Yes, You can count on me,"

"Perfect. Now where's the damn bird," she mumbled while turning around, "Ahh! Fuck! Will you stop doing that," she shouted at the bird when it suddenly reappeared before her, her breath catching in her throat. "Now, take me to Jon," she commanded, and the bird seemed to understand, flying away.

About 10 minutes later after walking through a few winding streets, they left the bustling port behind and came to an isolated area of the port with not many ships around. And there she found their prize from the Tyrells, docked perfectly and visible from afar were two huge galleons in pristine condition.

She admired the Galleons in awe while following after the bird. They were large multi-masted sailing beasts and were primarily designed for huge cargo transport and long sea voyages. It was easy to tell even from afar that it was built to withstand the rough seas and any potential pirate attacks with its sturdy wooden hull that was reinforced with Iron.

"Like what you see?" a voice suddenly rang out from above. Dacey looked up and found Jon gazing down at her with a grin, from the bow of the ship, dressed in loose, comfortable white attire suitable for the warm weather.

"Definitely," she said returning his grin, "They're perfect,"

"Oh it's only the start," Jon said in a smug tone while coming down towards the dock, "It won't be long before we have a long line of them available at our beck and call,"

"What were you doing in there," she asked curiously as he stepped off the plank.

"Oh nothing," Jon said waving nonchalantly, "Just checking to see if that Tyrell granny didn't send a faulty piece,"

"Hmm... Wouldn't put it past the old crone," Dacey scoffed before she waved her hand in the air, "And can you tell this damn bird to stop annoying me," the bird chirped even more excitedly when she tried to capture it.

*Chirp* *Chirp*

"Aww she's just playing with you," Jon said with a smile, "I am sure that she's just excited to be your friend,"

"She almost made me fall into the sea," Dacey grumbled.

"Ah! Sorry about that," Jon said sheepishly, "She's not properly accustomed to humans yet. Tweety! Come here! It's time for your sleep," he barely finished his sentence and the outrageously colourful bird disappeared from where she was hovering above Dacey's head and appeared in front of Jon' shirt pocket. Jon took her into his hand and placed it inside where it immediately fell asleep in the warmth.

"Phew! Now that the critter is gone, I need to tell you something important," Dacey said, her tone turning sombre.

"What is it?" Jon asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Have you scouted around the Iron Islands lately?"

"No," Jon shook his head, "You know that Frost is busy most of the time on that secret mission so I haven't had the time lately. Why? Do we have a problem there?"

"Yeah, A serious one," Dacey said nodding, "One of the minions on his routine checks around the shores of those Reavers to find vulnerable targets came across a disturbing gathering of a huge number of ships on that Island of Orkmont,"

"How many?"

"Twenty-something and they are slowly increasing," Dacey said with a serious face, "So I was a bit suspicious and immediately had a minion with a bird spy on them. Can you guess what I found?"

"They are preparing to attack us, Aren't they?" Jon said with a pondering expression.

"Exactly!" Dacey said with a surprised expression, "How did you know that?"

"It was only a matter of time," Jon shrugged with an unconcerned expression, "We have been focusing most of our attacks on the ships coming out of that island so as to not stir the whole pot so eventually they were bound to catch up... I mean it's not like we can completely hide the port,"

"Why are you so nonchalant?" Dacey inquired, her curiosity piqued. "You do realize that our port is still vulnerable, and we can't handle a large-scale attack at the moment, right? Even if we halted all trade and assembled our ships for an ambush at sea, it would likely be a Pyrrhic victory and set us back significantly."

"Don't worry, I have a plan," Jon said with a mysterious smile, "And if the timing is perfect, then not only would we come out of this unscathed, we will also make a huge profit out of it,"

"Really?"

"Yeah! You just need to wait and see..."

///

To read ahead go to: patreon.com/lazywizard

 

[LazyWizard]

Dacey's eyes cleared, the milky whiteness fading, and her pupils returned as her consciousness snapped back.


"How Far?" Jon asked immediately, not giving Dacey the chance to completely regain her bearings.


"If we maintain our current speed, we should reach them just before tomorrow's sunset," Dacey replied, massaging her temples. "Ugh... When is Frost expected back?"


"Don't worry I'll call her back before the attack," Jon said with an amused smile while giving Dacey his hand and pulling her up, "But she would need to go back right after... So I am sorry to say you won't be free for quite a while..."


Jon had become quite an expert on warging over the years, and one thing he had noticed was that different people react differently to Warging.


Some of them are deathly scared of it, even the thought of leaving their body behind makes them pale. But after their first time, after they experience that distinct taste of freedom—of flying in the open skies, of cruising in the deep seas amidst colourful sea creatures, or of running through the deep green forest alone while smelling a hundred kinds of smells—they are also the ones who become the most hooked, the one most attracted to staying inside their warg animal's mind forever and so they have a hard time controlling their desires.


On the other side are those people who are not very scared of Warging—who in fact treat it as just another mundane task. While these people become quite good at warging eventually, they don't really adore the feeling of being vulnerable and don't like to stay away from their bodies for too long. And Dacey was someone who belonged to the latter group.


"Really!" Dacey grimaced while exiting the room after Jon, "When is her damn mission going to be over? Is it even possible for her to find something like that?"


"Hmm.... I can't say," Jon shrugged nonchalantly, "And it isn't like she was completely unsuccessful. She'd had some partial success... It's just that the ones she's found till now were too small for them to be too useful... so she'll just have to continue looking,"


Dacey sighed and stretched lazily, her joints creaking. "Do we really have to go to such lengths for the wildlings?"


Jon chose to ignore her grumbling and scanned the surroundings. After a moment, he called out to a man standing at the ship's bow. "BRIAN!"


Brian turned around, looking surprised, and hurried over. "Captain?"


"Send someone to gather all the merchants for a meeting," Jon instructed.


"Aye!" Brian nodded and started to leave but then hesitated. "Should I have them come here, or..."


"No, not here. It's better at the Galleon," Jon replied, and Brian quickly went off to carry out his orders, while Jon turned his eyes to the sea.


Directly behind the main ship, known as "The North Star," sailed the rest of their Bear Islands fleet. They maintained a disciplined triangular formation, resembling a flock of birds in flight. Navigating the heart of this formation were two immense galleons, heavily laden with a fresh bounty of goods.


The galleons were like floating fortresses, their hulls brimming with treasures such as grains, wine, spices and textiles. In contrast, the other ships were only half-filled with cargo on this voyage, a deliberate choice by Jon to ensure their nimbleness at the sea.


A bit further back, a smaller fleet of approximately ten ships followed. Six of them proudly displayed the Reach's vibrant flags, belonging to the same merchants Jon had met during the previous time when he pitched the Starkhorses in that Inn. The remaining four ships bore the heraldry of the Westerlands, owned by a trusted friend of Jon's, who had been interested in getting in on the North-South trade for some time.


All of these ships were different kinds of local speciality that they felt would sell well in the North. Except for food and grain of course since they knew that they would have to sell cheaper than Jon which wouldn't be profitable.


They were the first few customers of Jon's future shipping company which would basically provide escorting services to ships, guaranteeing their safety at the Sea, whether be it from pirates, harsh weather or any other kind of disaster—for an appropriate fee of course. And while it could be a little costly for the small-time merchants, it would still be absurdly cheap in the long run considering the amount of ships that got lost at the sea. It was kind of like an insurance policy in Middle-Ages.


Dacey had a frown on her face as if she was thinking about something before suddenly her eyes widened and she exclaimed, "Wait a minute! Was that your whole plan," she finally realised exactly why he had suddenly decided to call a meeting of the owners of all the ships, "You want to use them in the attack?!"


" 'Use' is a strong word," Jon said with a nonchalant shrug, "More like I am giving them a chance to aid—Why? You think it wouldn't work?"


"Would it? Really?" she retorted back, "I mean for the starters it won't be easy to convince those opportunistic suckers to join us in the attack since ironically they hired us to do the exact opposite i.e. to avoid conflict with the Ironborn in the first place,"


"Hmm... I think I've got an idea on how to get them onboard..." Jon muttered thoughtfully while slowly leading Dacey towards the only room on the deck other than the Captain's.


"AND even if you somehow convinced them—the battle would still be too even," Dacey urged, concern lacing her voice, "They have about 30-something ships filled to the brim with warriors ready for a raid and on the other hand we barely have twenty of our own ships and that's even counting the two galleons which are too slow and bulky to be useful in the battle, not to mention that quite a few of ours are filled with rookies on their first trip, so even counting the ten ships from the Merchants the odds would still be barely even AND—" She raised her voice as she saw Jon preparing to speak as they came to stop in front of a door.


"Even if we somehow successfully ambush them and win, it would definitely be a Pyrrhic victory. We would lose too many of our sailors which would be devastating to our base and affect a lot of our future plans and the worst thing would be if we somehow let a few ships escape..." Dacey didn't finish but the serious expression on her face completely conveyed what she meant.


Until now they had always made sure to wipe everyone on any ships that they target so that none of the nobles on Ironislands get spooked. But if this attack goes even a little bit sideways... then they may just have to prepare to deal with a huge retaliation from the reavers which Dacey was sure they weren't ready for yet.


Jon had listened with a patient expression until her friend had completely let out her concerns and then he began, "All good points, Dacey, but you don't have to worry because I think I've got the solution right here..." he pushed the door open with a smile.


The room was a small one obviously, and it was a little stuffy with a strange smell even though the window was open. At the centre of the room sat a cluttered wooden desk, upon which lay an assortment of peculiar trinkets, colourful herbs and plants, several pestles haphazardly scattered about, and a large open book. Behind the desk, Sam was engrossed in reading the book, his head bowed, while grinding a purplish paste in a pestle.


"Sam, how's it going, my friend?" Jon greeted with cheerful enthusiasm as he entered the room, Dacey following behind, her eyes filled with curiosity.


"Ah, Jon," Sam responded, looking up with a flustered expression. "I'm doing well. Just working on it."


Jon glanced around the cluttered desk as if in search of something specific. "So, do you think it'll be ready in time?"


"I think..." Sam replied with an unsure smile, while pulling up two small earthen jars the size of his fists from under the table, "I mean I haven't made something like this before so I can't say for sure but the colour and consistency is exactly the same as was written in the book so it should work..."


"That's enough for me," Jon said while opening the jars. One contained a bluish, sand-like substance, while the other held the purplish paste Sam had been grinding. "So, what do they do?"


"This one—" he said pointing to the blue one, "can put anyone to sleep for a few hours if the dosage is enough and even if it's diluted it would still leave them faint and drowsy. The purple one, on the other hand, is going to cause them a severe stomach ache and make them stay in the privy for hours and even in the diluted form it would leave them weak enough that they won't even be able to lift a sword,"


Jon had been incredibly lucky when they had gotten their hands on this book from Oberyn in Citadel. It had been a complete treasure trove of all the common poisons you could easily make.


Jon had been on the lookout for something like this for years now but knowledge like this was heavily forbidden and censored— for obvious reasons. In fact, it wasn't even available to the Acolytes and the newer Maesters as he hadn't found anything like it in the common library. So while he didn't know what strings Oberyn pulled to get his hands on this book, he was very thankful for it.


The moment he found out what kind of golden information he had gotten his hands on, Jon immediately started scouring all the nearby forests and mountains in Reach for any ingredients he could find that were described in the books and collected them, which wasn't too hard for an animal whisperer. By the time Dacey arrived, he had collected a significant number of them, and the results lay before them now.


"So a knockout drug and a laxative... Huh," Jon said succinctly while Dacey just looked on with her wide eyes alternating between them.


"Well, yes... those were the only ones I could make in large quantity from the ingredients you got me..." Sam scratched his head sheepishly, "And if the estimate of number of people on each ship you told me is correct... then they should be good enough for about twenty ships."


"That's good enough—"


"So that was your plan all along," Dacey breathed as her brain finally caught up and she realised exactly why Jon had been so calm all along, "Wait! If you can do that then, why not just make one that immediately kills... You know that would make the work a lot easier,"'


While Sam looked a bit horrified at the excited smile on Dacey's face, Jon explained, "Mostly because the ingredients required for them are quite rare plus those fatal ones are not useful for mass application since their potency decreases a lot when they get diluted..."


"Ah, That makes sense..." Dacey nodded her head as if she understood everything.


"I'll take them," Jon said while picking up the two jars, before he looked at the dark circles under Sam's eyes and said, "Why don't you get some rest? You deserve it..."


"I will. Thank you,"


After closing the door behind them, Dacey asked Jon curiously, "How exactly are you thinking of delivering them to the targets... Because It would be too complicated to individually poison every single man... And who were you going to use for it anyway, because I think even Frost's brilliant stealth wouldn't be much useful for such a task considering her size..."


Jon raised an eyebrow and asked with a smile, "Tell me, what's one thing you can be certain everyone on an Ironborn ship consumes?"


It only took Dacey a couple of seconds before she exclaimed, "Alcohol!"


"Exactly," Jon said with a smile, "And as for who I am going to use for this task... Did you already forget about my new friend Tweety," he said touching his front pocket and immediately a small head poked out of it and looked around curiously.


*CHIRP* *CHIRP*


...


"—How far did you say they were?" Whett squeaked with a scared look on his face, he was one of the Merchants from the Reach.


The deck of the Northern Galleon had been transformed into a makeshift meeting place, with tables and chairs arranged to accommodate the merchants. The weather was pleasant, and a selection of sweets and snacks adorned the table. Seated around it were three merchants hailing from the Reach, and a single but much richer one from Westerlands. Jon was standing in front of them with a relaxed smile on his face as if he hadn't just announced that Ironborn pirates were nearby.


Jon nonchalantly plucked a lemon cake from the table and popped it into his mouth before responding, "I'd estimate they're about a day's sail away."


Whett's pale complexion, initially drained of colour, began to regain its hue as he exhaled with relief. He turned to his fellow merchants and nodded vigorously. "That means we can still sail around them, and avoid any trouble."


"Ah! You misunderstand my intention," Jon's expression shifted, appearing genuinely surprised, "I had something else in mind when I shared this information. I was thinking more along the lines of attacking them rather than merely skirting around them,"


Confusion painted Whett's face as he asked, "Why on earth would we do that?"


Jon's tone grew more serious. "Do you know why they're here? Why they're scouring these waters? They're hoping to encounter honest merchants like yourselves and plunder your goods. So, wouldn't it make sense to ambush them before they have a chance to attack you? And clean the seas of these bugs,"


Jon would be stupid if he told them the real reason was that they were on their way to attack the North, as that would make it just a personal issue, which these wouldn't want be eager to interfere in.


"But—" While the Merchants from Reach all exchanged glances with unsure expressions on their faces, the lone one from Westerlands who had had an intense look in his eyes from the moment he had heard about the Ironborn, suddenly asked thoughtfully, "Jon! What are the chances of us winning?"


This Merchant from Westerlands was called Tyrand, and he was a peculiar one. Jon had met him quite a while ago, on one of his first few visits to the Lannisport. He had been instrumental in helping Jon establish distribution channels in Westerlands. The most important thing was that the man seemed to have a mysterious backer who was quite interested in Jon and the sudden emergence of North-South trade on the Western shores.


Anyway back to the topic, this merchant, Tyrand had lost his son to the Ironborn when they had ambushed the Lannisport in their short rebellion. So he had somewhat of a personal beef with the Ironborn which was very helpful for Jon.


"Our chances as good as Ser Jamie Lannister would have of winning against a common brigand," Jon said with a confident expression before he addressed all of them, "The Ironborn have been reaving up and down the shores of Reach for centuries, and Tyrand, don't you remember that unpleasant attack on Lannisport not too long ago... I want you to think of this not as a problem but as an opportunity... An opportunity for Vengeance. Otherwise, do you mean to tell me the Rain of Castemere is just a famous tavern song in Westerlands and nothing more..."


"You don't need to provoke me like that, Jon," Tyrand smiled amusedly with a raised eyebrow at Jon who just grinned cheekily, "If the odds are good as you say they are... then you can count me in... After all, I am not a coward,"


"You! Are you calling us cowards?" Whett suddenly stood up, his face red as a tomato while his fellow merchants held him back with equally indignant expressions on their faces.


"Hmm... I don't know," Tyrand shrugged nonchalantly and sent Jon a subtle wink.


"I am sure he didn't mean that," Jon modified them while noting Tyrand's goodwill, "After all the Reach is well known across Westeros for their fearlessness and chivalry, nobody can doubt that..." After they calmed down, Jon immediately struck while the iron was still hot, "So are you willing?"


"Yes! You can count us in," Whett said with a proud expression, "We'll show the Ironborn what we are made of,"

 

[LazyWizard]

The crimson Sun had slipped below the horizon a few hours earlier, and the moon was already hanging halfway through the sky. The full moon was still days away, and thick clouds obscured much of its light. Even with the feeble torches on each ship, visibility extended only a few meters.


The fleet of thirty Ironborn ships had been divided into three groups when they set off so as to ease the difficulty in navigation. However, they maintained close proximity, ensuring visibility during the day and the ability to react swiftly to any disturbances during the night and gather together in case of an attack.


On the rightmost vessel of the rightmost group, things were very peaceful. The mild breeze carried soft, lulling waves across the calm sea.


It was calm here...


In fact, it was too calm, almost... eerie.


Most of the sailors had already succumbed to sleep a few hours ago after a night of drinking and revelry. But it was somewhat of a general rule of Ironborn to have at least a few people on board awake and for them to stay sober, whenever they were out at sea so that they could act as scouts in case of an attack.


Unfortunately, the Ironborn were as averse to rules as a Dornish Woman was to modest clothes.


"Oi! You, stop it! Don't drain it all," a scout cursed, snatching a pouch of ale from a friend who guzzled it down as if it were water. "It was the only one I managed to pilfer, and we need it for the entire night."


"Who cares," replied the friend gruffly, wiping his mouth. "Those fools are passed out and won't wake until morning."


"Hmm, you're right—"


Thud.


A muffled, piercing sound abruptly shattered the scout's words and when he looked up, he was horrified to find his friend's slowly falling corpse an arrow lodged in his eye. And before he could even open his mouth another arrow punctured his throat, "Ugh!!" killing his scream in his mouth and cutting his life short.


Following the swift succession of two arrows, shadowy figures silently boarded the ship, moving like phantoms in the night. Each was armed with an array of sharp weapons, including daggers and short swords. And after the last one had climbed abroad, all of them calmly divided themselves without any communication between them and then... they went to work.


Some of them entered the cabin while the others headed straight for the sleeping quarters, and for a few minutes, the night echoed with the faint sounds of blades piercing flesh, stifled screams, and soft thuds that disappeared with the sea wind.


Soon, all was silent again.


The shadows slipped out of the vessel one after the other each carrying an additional smell of blood with them. They swiftly lowered themselves out of the ship, exiting as quietly as they had infiltrated it, leaving behind nothing but a lonely ship freely sailing on the sea with no one alive to crew it, a ghost ship.


Their work had only just started as the shadows repeated their method, moving from ship to ship like silent reapers. They were so experienced and adept at their job that even if someone from the infamous The House of Black and White was here, he would be astonished by their skills and clap in admiration.


Sadly the shadows weren't lucky for long...


A man stumbled out of the door of a nearby ship, desperately seeking a spot to relieve his full bladder. As his bleary eyes fell upon the corpses of the scouts, his face drained of colour, and he tumbled backwards, shrieking, "A-Attack! Attack! We are under attack—"


An arrow sliced through the night sky, silencing him and cutting his warning short, but the damage was already done as the alarm had been raised all across the fleet.


"The scouts are dead!!"


"Under Attack! We are under attack!"


"Fuck! WAKE Everyone Up!"


"Shit! AXE!!! Where the fuck's my Axe!"


Screams echoed everywhere, as one after another the Ironborn sailors woke up, after seeing corpses everyone immediately ran to get their weapons and wear any kind of protection they could their hands on. It was pure chaos and pandemonium.


But they were given no respite. Within moments of the alarm, each ship in the Ironborn fleet was beset by attackers from an enemy ship simultaneously. These ships seemed to have materialized out of nowhere as if they had been lying in wait for just this moment.


The attackers didn't care that the Ironborn were half-naked or half-asleep and immediately launched their assault without mercy. The Ironborn responded in kind with a ferocious roar and simultaneously charged toward their attackers, some without even the benefit of a weapon. A chaotic and brutal battle erupted on all fronts.


"Ahh!!! KILL!!"


"Kill those Fuckers!!!"


"WHAT IS DEAD MAY NEVER—"


...


"Ah! Looks like that'll be it for sneaking around,"


The shadows had just transformed another vessel into a ghost ship when the alarm sounded, and the battle erupted. Rather than feeling disappointed about not eliminating all their targets silently, a gleam of excitement shone in the eyes of nearly every shadow. After all, as much as stealthy killings might be strategic, the warrior's blood coursing through their veins craved nothing more than an all-out, bloody confrontation.


"Are you worried about your friends Rookie," one of the towering Northerners asked the young recruit. They both observed the flickering torches and heard the distant screams from the ships where the battle was already in full swing.


"Ah! No! I am not worried," the young boy replied sheepishly, waiting alongside his comrade for the rest of the team to descend into the waiting boat. "I'm more envious, actually... I heard they'd have an easier time of it..."


Jon had divided the ships among his warriors in a somewhat uneven but perfect way, with the most crucial factor being the limited poison supply, only enough for twenty ships worth of enemies.


Of those twenty vessels with poisoned crews, ten were assigned to the Merchants to deal with, as Jon wished to minimize losses for his customers on their maiden voyage.


Likewise, the other ten ships with poisoned sailors were left to the bulk of the Northern fleet, around fifteen vessels, each ship mostly being manned by fresh recruits from Bear Island. It served as a practical way for these newcomers to gain battle experience without suffering excessive casualties due to their inexperience.


Now the final ten ships, filled with fresh Ironborn sailors had been left for the experts and veterans to attack. Moreover, they only possessed five ships of their own, meaning they would face nearly twice the number of foes—steep odds for them, given that their adversaries were Ironborn and the battle took place at sea.


"HAHA... You don't need to worry about us, lad," the bearded Northerner said gruffly, patting the rookie's back as their turn finally came and they lowered themselves into the waiting boat. "Remember we already took care of five of them," he gestured towards the ghost ships aimlessly sailing behind them. The rookie nodded, having been so preoccupied with his first mission and focused on not blundering that he hadn't even noticed when they began when they moved from one ship to another, or how many of them they had emptied.


He was also from the latest recent crop of graduates handpicked from the Navy school on Bear Island this time. Due to his exceptional skills as both a sailor and a fighter, he hadn't been integrated into the regular forces like his friends; instead, he had been given special attention and had been fast-tracked into this elite team, the 'Shadows'.


"And besides, while they may have poison on their side, we've got a trump card of our own," he added, wearing a smug grin.


"Trump card? Who?" the rookie asked curiously.


The man simply motioned toward the cluster of ships they were rowing toward. Amidst the tumultuous sea battle, one figure stood out more than any other, illuminated by the flickering torchlight.


He stood on the deck of a ship nestled right in the heart of the fiercest combat. He remained as straight as a mast, wielding a bow in his hands with two brimming quivers slung over his back.


His hands moved with such speed that they blurred as he loosed arrow after arrow, not in a single direction but in all directions, as if he were a god with eyes on every aspect of the unfolding chaos. What astounded everyone, even more, was the ease with which he calmly dodged the occasional arrows aimed at him all while seamlessly returning fire.


He was akin to a God of War, unleashing his wrath upon the Ironborn, who found themselves helpless in the face of his relentless assault.


...


"Why the fuck are they not here yet," the captain bellowed, his voice echoing through the chaos of battle. He crouched behind a crate, nursing a shoulder wounded by an arrow.


"Captain, five of our ships have no lights and aren't responding!" his second mate shouted from a nearby hiding spot. "And the others are also under attack."


"Who the fuck is attacking us?" he roared, his frustration mounting. The second mate hurriedly retrieved his far-eye, attempting to get a clearer view and what he saw amidst the flickering lights drained all the colour out of his face.


"Who? Who is it?" the captain demanded as he saw another sailor fall with an arrow through his eye.


"Everyone!" the second mate stammered.


"What!" the captain barked and without waiting for his answer he snatched the far-eye, his prized possession, one he had luckily looted from an Essosi merchant. And the moment he placed it on his eye he immediately understood what the man was talking about.


"T-They've got flags from the North, the Westerlands and even the Reach," the second mate described what the Captain was already seeing in a shaking voice almost as if he was talking to himself.


The trauma of their short rebellion and the Iron Throne's swift retribution was still vivid enough in his memory that he was immediately filled with terror at the sight of so many different flags from the nearby kingdoms.


"Wait! That's—" As his second mate was slowly losing his mind, the captain noticed something even more horrifying going on at the battle on the faraway ships, "No! NO! They are going down too—


....


"—down too quickly," Whett said, his voice tinged with confusion as he observed the vanishing lights in the distance.


To prevent confusion and keep track of everything during the battle, they had decided that after a ship was conquered and every enemy abroad was dead, the last person to disembark would extinguish the light as a signal that the ship had been secured.


"What in the blazes is happening down there?"


"There's no way it's this easy, is there?"


The other merchants were equally perplexed by the swift and unnatural pace at which the Ironborn ships were being vanquished. They were sure that even with this ambush where they caught the enemy with their pants down, it shouldn't be this quick.


"Dacey!" Tyrand, the Westerlands merchant, turned to the stoic Northern woman beside him. "Do you know something?"


"Hmm... Who knows," Dacey replied noncommittally. Jon had decided not to reveal the specifics of how they poisoned the Ironborn, as it would raise too many questions. Instead, they opted to keep things vague and let the merchants' imaginations run wild. "Maybe we're just lucky, and they're all inept fighters..."


"Ironborn being inept at sea? You can't be serious!" Whett retorted disbelief etched on his face as he pointed towards the ongoing battle. "Look out there! A ship is sinking almost every few minutes... Are you telling me our fighters are skilled enough to achieve that? Don't be absurd—"


"Wait! I see a boat approaching," Tyrand suddenly interrupted, pointing towards a small boat rowed by a lone man coming toward the galleon where they all stood. As the boat drew nearer, Tyrand recognized the young scout from a Reach vessel.


"Boy!" Whett didn't give the lad a moment to climb aboard before demanding answers. "Tell me! What the fuck is happening out there?" he pointed at the distant battle where another ship went down.


"T-They're dropping like flies, Master," the boy answered, his voice trembling with excitement. "We're easily taking one ship after another, and—"


"I know that, you idiot!" Whett interrupted impatiently. "I'm asking why. What's happening out there?"


"I think they ate something foul, Master," the boy replied uncertainly. "They all seem sick, vomiting, fainting, and even... even..."


"Even WHAT?"


"They're even shitting their pants while trying to fight. It's quite amusing, Master, hehe..."


"They've been poisoned," Tyrand whispered involuntarily, and immediate understanding washed over all the Merchants. They swivelled their attention to Dacey, and Tyrand stated more as a fact than a question, "You poisoned them."


"I don't know what you're talking about..." Dacey said in a nonchalant tone, but everyone could make out smugness from her expression.


"How did you do it? Did you have a spy on their ships? But... No! They'd have perished too, since you didn't instruct us to make any exceptions, and it's impossible without having a spy on every single ship... Did you have a spy in the port, then? Someone who poisoned their provisions in advance—Ah! But that seems farfetched, doesn't it? The timing of the ambush is too perfect for that to be possible," Tyrand brainstormed out loud before he scratched his head in frustration and asked "How in Seven hells did you do it," it was as if there was an irresistible itch in his mind that he couldn't scratch and that was infuriating.


"It's a trade secret. I can't tell you anything," Dacey finally said with a smile of pure satisfaction on her face, "You just need to know that as long as you're with us, no one can touch even a hair on you... We will keep you safe at sea, no matter the enemy..."


...


"Where's the Captain?" Orkwood whispered to the second mate.


As the noble overseeing a significant portion of the fleet, he had his own cabin. However, in the current turmoil, the confined space felt stifling. When the battle erupted unexpectedly, he had joined the fray with zeal, taking up his sword alongside his fellow sailors in defence of the ship. But as he witnessed people falling like leaves and the prospect of victory dwindling, he abandoned his opponent and sought refuge in the cabin, hoping for a rescue before the enemy reached them.


In the cramped cabin were Orkwood and his three guards, along with three coward sailors who hadn't bothered with the fight at all as the injured second mate, an arrow stuck perilously close to his heart. He was fortunate; the archer seemed to have narrowly missed a fatal shot, possibly due to the ship's swaying, or else the second mate might have already met the Drowned Gods.


"H-He's... dead... M'lord..." the second mate replied with a furrowed brow, his hand hovering over the arrow as if contemplating whether to remove it or leave it be. Even though Orkwood was no healer, he knew that it would be stupid for him to pull that out, but he didn't bother voicing that since there was no way the man would be able to get a healer out here anyway.


"Ahh! How many fucking archers are out there," he cursed as he saw another man just about to kill a Northerner, go down with an arrow straight to his heart. He peered out of a small window, with only his head visible, granting him a vantage point to observe the ongoing battle. What he saw was far from reassuring. Among the sprawled bodies on the deck, he saw only Ironborn, not a single one from the enemy.


"O-Only... one..." the second mate stammered, his voice quivering.


"One! Just one!" Orkwood repeated incredulously, eyeing the man, who nodded in pain, his eyes shut.


"You! Fetch that bow from the table," he commanded one of his guards, who promptly obeyed. "See if you can take him down."


The guard immediately strung his bow and aimed towards the battle but even after hesitating for a long while he didn't shoot and just moved it left and right.


"Just Shoot him!" the Noble barked and the archer flinched but didn't lose the arrow, "I can't get a clear shot. There's no torch out there and he's almost standing in darkness on the bow of the ship, a-and if I miss then we are dead..." the guard had already seen that Northerner take more than a few archers from the nearby ships who had at shot him in just a few minutes.


From left to right, up and down, even killing people hiding behind crates, that godly Northerner archer didn't stop for a single second, he was culling Ironborn lives in all the nearby ships at the same time, it was almost... magical.


"I don't—" the archer started, but an arrow whizzed past his ear, narrowly avoiding decapitating him and he immediately ducked. His heart beating like a drum, he shakingly touched his ear only to find crimson blood there. He breathed heavily, realizing how close he had come to death, saved only because he looked down at the last moment.


"He's found us..." the Noble muttered in fear, he knew that it was only a matter of time before the enemies breached here now that the archer had seen him, "W-We need to kill that archer,"


"H-How? He'll kill us before we can get close to him..."


"I have an idea..." Orkwood said after taking a deep breath. "Gather anything you can find to shield us from arrows," he immediately went towards the single shield placed on the wall and picked it up.


...


A few minutes later, they were all ready, some were holding wooden planks, some buckets and one man even holding the chamber pot, but all of them had some kind of a makeshift shield.


"On the count of three..." the noble directed, clutching a shield from behind. "One... Two... Three. GO!"


"AHHHH!!!!"


The first man burst through the door and sprinted toward the bow, where the archer stood. They ignored the ongoing melee, with both Ironborn and Northerners stunned by this sudden rush, parting to avoid getting trampled.


Their target, the handsome young Northerner, immediately noticed them and looked at them rushing towards him with an amused smile on his face. He calmly raised his bow and started shooting arrows at them.


One arrow after another, he shot the arrows into the most minuscule of gaps, easily taking the front runners out of their group. But the Ironborn, driven half-mad by seeing their comrades fall, pressed on.


Jon effortlessly dispatched four before they drew too close. Although he could have dealt with the remaining few if he had carried a sword, he already bore two full quivers so as to avoid becoming too heavy and lose his agility, he didn't carry any other weapon with him.


"AHHH!!! Die FUCKER!!!"


The two remaining Ironborn screamed as they lunged at the archer but they weren't given the satisfaction as they saw the young Northerner smoothly topple backwards into the sea all while maintaining a smile on his face.


Orkwood peered down at the water, sighing in relief when he saw no sign of the archer resurfacing. He turned and smiled at his lone surviving guard, the other survivor of their mad rush, and whispered, "The bastard's dead!" before he turned and hollered at the remaining Ironborn fighters, "The FUCKER'S DEAD!"


"Finally!" "Thank the Drowned God," "Haha!!"


The men rejoiced, relief washing over them, from the beginning of the battle, they had been constantly harassed by the archer who was like a sword hanging above their neck.


Orkwood immediately saw the opportunity and tried to raise the morale by shouting, "We can escape now if we—"


However, his words were abruptly interrupted by that dreaded piercing sound, and he slowly turned his head to find his last guard with an arrow in his throat looking at him with a shocked expression on his face.


Scared, Orkwoord immediately looked down towards where the arrow had come from and what he saw immediately made him soil his pants.


There he was, the Northern Archer, still alive, with the bow still in his hands and still looking at him with the same amused smile.


The most crazy unbelievable thing was that he was cruising along with the ship but there was no boat or plank supporting, there was... nothing underneath his feet. H-He was actually standing on water as if...


"As if a ...GOD..." he whispered and that was the last thing the noble saw before an arrow claimed his life.

///

 

[LazyWizard]

"Fuu... And that's the last one," Jon murmured while letting go of the string and the arrow immediately soared through the air and found its mark in the back of the last running Ironborn raider.


His quiver was nearly empty, and his hands were paying the price for his prolonged shooting. One hand throbbed with pain, while the other had gone completely numb. Despite spending long aching hours with the bow in the training field, it was the first time he had shot arrows for so long in an actual battle, which was completely different with all the adrenaline involved.


"Where next, Jon," came the eager question from his excited ride. Her head and snout bobbed just above the water's surface, and she seemed to think that it was a fun game and was having a grand time watching each arrow disappear into the Ironborn ranks.


"That's it for today, Cory," Jon smiled as he hung his bow on his shoulder and kneeled for better balance, "You were great, my friend. Thank you for helping me," Jon stroked her smooth skin gently with gratefulness. She'd been a perfect ride during the whole battle, in fact, Jon would go as far as to say that he was a better archer on her back than he was on the ships because not only was she an excellent swimmer, but she was also as stable as a rock and was able to carry him wherever he wanted to so he was able to access a lot more ships.


"No problem, Jon, It was really fun," she said, happily spraying a burst of water.


She wasn't actually saying all these things obviously instead Jon had just become so skilled at interpreting the thoughts of animals, even outside of his wargs, that it almost felt as if he was talking to a human instead of the massive killer whale.


Since Cory wasn't his warg, they didn't share the deep connection that he had with Frost or even Tweety, his new warg. With them, he could almost completely scan their mind at all moments and they would have complete access to his desires and emotions so that they are able to respond instantly.


With Cory, it was different, as he communicated to her through a complex language involving projecting and reading various thoughts, emotions, images, and sometimes even memories and then he could interpret those broken pieces into a common tongue and understand them.


*Ki*Ki*Ki*


"Eh... Who are you talking to, Cory?" Jon asked curiously as he felt Cory communicate with someone through her unique methods involving whistles and pulsed calls.


"My Mother," Cory answered casually as she slowly guided Jon toward his main ship. "She's hunting nearby with my brothers and sisters."


"Oh! Are they all down there..." Jon raised an eyebrow before a realization hit him, "Wait!—" he abruptly raised his head and looked around to find that he was surrounded on all sides by corpses littered in the sea because of the recent battle, "D-Don't tell me they are eating Humans!"


"Oh! No! Only fish," Cory replied innocently, "Humans don't taste good,"


"That is good," Jon immediately sagged in relief.


While he didn't worry too much about what happened with the Ironborn after they died. He still had no desire to be in the vicinity of killer Orcas while they were feasting on human flesh.


There are mostly two times when a predator is most difficult to control, one would be when they are on a hunt and their killer instincts take over them and the other is when they are fleeing for their lives from a bigger predator.


Suddenly sounds of jubilation and raucous cheering erupted from all the ships in the distance at the same time. It seemed the people on board finally realised that they had won the battle and completely annihilated the Ironborn.


Celebrations were rare after sea battles, given the usual high casualties and potential ship damage. but hearing the booming hoots and loud laughter coming from the ships, he was sure that there was no one alive on board who wasn't happy or relieved, and Jon was quite happy and proud to admit that he had a huge hand in it.


For the whole duration of the battle, he had tried his hardest and utilised his mind to the fullest. Using the omnipotent view he had of the whole battle, Jon hadn't let a single die person die if he could help it. Every time he came across someone who was getting ganged up or someone who was injured and was on the verge of losing, he immediately sent help in the form of his arrows and saved them.


His archery had long since left the realm of normal people and every time people saw him make those impossible tricky parabolic shots, they were left in awe, not to mention his speed and accuracy had gotten so phenomenal that he barely missed now even when he was on a wobbly ship with unpredictable sea waves.


Jon was absentmindedly watching the celebrations with a contented smile on his face when out of nowhere Cory suddenly jerked to a stop launching him straight into the frigid sea.


"What—"


He coughed and spluttered as saltwater filled his mouth. Panic gripped him for a moment, but he managed to regain his composure and when he resurfaced with a confused look on his face, it was to find his ride, Cory, running or rather rapidly swimming away in the distance and she wasn't alone as there were similar sized silhouettes along with her which he assumed were her family members.


"What in the seven hells happened?"


Jon was completely bewildered by the sudden departure of the friendly whale so he immediately tried to connect with Cory's mind to find out why she was fleeing. But the moment he touched her consciousness he was completely blasted away by the sheer amount of panic and fear she was feeling at the moment.


Her flight response had been fully triggered, her body was pumped to the brim with adrenaline, leaving no room in her mind for any thoughts other than fleeing for her life. But just before he was unceremoniously kicked out of her mind, Jon barely managed to capture a single image from her mind... an image of a large looming shadow hidden in the depth of the sea, which the Orcas associated with the ultimate invincible predator representing absolute death... that they must always flee from; it was something inherited from their ancestors and coded in their genes.


"What is it? What could the creature be?" Jon wondered aloud as he peered into the dark abyss of the unfathomable ocean with intense curiosity, "Could it be 'that' myth?"


The ocean depth was an unknown field even to a warg such as Jon. He had no idea at all as to the kinds of creatures that could be present in the sea of Planetos. And it wasn't like he hadn't tried to scout before, he did... but the results were always disappointing.


He had tried warging into all kinds of different marine species, from colourful tiny fishes to huge whales, from electric eels to killer sharks, but no matter what type of creature he used, after a certain depth all of them started losing their bodily function due to the pressure, and even if he found those rare few that could handle the pressure they would start resisting his control after a certain depth as if they weren't allowed into that part of the sea.


There seemed to be some kind of an invisible line in this world's sea that separated the ocean into two parts, the upper part belonging to the normal creatures while the lower part... well he didn't know who the other part belonged to, and he was dying to find out about it.


Floating in the same place, Jon hesitated for quite a while as his gaze alternated between the ships and the sea depth. A fierce battle was raging inside his mind between two parts of his mind, one side wanted to sate his curiosity immediately and find out about the mysterious creatures that had sent the Orcas running away while the other one was the more rational and cautious one that thought it was absurdly stupid of him to mess around looking for a dangerous predator in the sea while being surrounded on all sides by dead bodies.


"Ah! Fuck it!" Jon finally cursed to himself as curiosity and recklessness ultimately won the day. Crushing the rational part of his mind, he immediately closed his eyes and started to project his consciousness downwards.


Jon had come a long way from when he used to train with Robb and could only extend his mind a few meters at a time but now... now he didn't even know what his limits were.


As his consciousness descended into the depths, he encountered a colorful array of marine life fleeing for their lives. Gradually, the number of creatures dwindled until, just before he reached his limits, he managed to connect with a purple, thin-scaled fish longer than his own height.


He spent a few moments calming the fish's instincts, a skill he could only apply to simple-minded creatures. Then, he gently urged the gullible fish to swim deeper. Darkness enveloped him as he ventured beyond the reach of light. If he had relied on his human eyes, he would have seen nothing, but the fish's vision offered some clarity.


And then it happened.


A monstrous, tentacle-like appendage, thick and several meters long, slithered into his field of vision. Jon's mind nearly recoiled in instinctual fear, but he clung to the fish's consciousness at the last moment.


He swam around at the location where he had glimpsed that thing and before long he managed to capture it, and what he saw sent his heart beating like a drum. A tentacle, thicker than several meters, stretched towards the surface, dragging down the human corpses sinking in the water.


Jon's mind went blank as he struggled to comprehend the reality of his discovery, that his guess had actually been right and that the creatures that he had only considered myths till now actually existed.


If this one existed, then what about the others? What if the giant squid or rather the Kraken he was seeing now wasn't the only one that was real? What about leviathans? or Bloody Sea Dragons? What if all of the myths were actually true?


Greedy thoughts swirled in his mind as he started dreaming about riding Sea Dragons and commanding Krakens to pull down enemy ships for him or making them search the ocean floor for all the treasures and gold that had been sunken to the sea bed over the years.


The very idea had Jon practically drooling with excitement, and he wasted no time. He used the fish's mind as a stepping stone and swiftly sent his consciousness towards the source of the tentacle.


"WHO... IS... IT???!!!"


Out of nowhere, his mind was suddenly blasted with an immense consciousness, his sentience was like a small fishing boat caught in a fierce storm, just about to capsize from the tsunami-like waves continuously boarding him.


"STOP!!!!"


It was almost overwhelming, and he screamed unconsciously just as he was on the verge of losing his mind and somehow miraculously the consciousness battering him actually listened to him and stopped... giving him a much-needed breather.


"Who are you..." the voice repeated its question this time a bit more softly.


"I am Jon Snow, A Warg, I am here—" Jon began to answer before the haze in his mind cleared and his brain caught up with the situation and he realised that he was actually speaking in Old Tongue, "What? How can you speak?" he asked, baffled that he had found a creature using words, especially in the Old Tongue.


Even amongst his personal Wargs only Frost had begun able to speak and too was only in a somewhat broken common tongue, the language he most used. It was completely absurd that he came across a creature using words... words from the Ancient First man language that he learned from Old Nan in his childhood.


"So you're a Warg, huh..." The voice mumbled before answering his question, "Yes, I can speak the Old Tongue. You're not the first warg I've come across.," The Kraken helpfully supplied memories and thoughts along with his reply.


In those memories, Jon glimpsed a burly northern man in rugged leather clothing who had raised the Kraken from a young age. The Kraken went on a lot of adventures with that man, and the most noticeable thing about that man was the variety of animals he always brought with him. Sometimes it was a bear and sometimes it was a couple of direwolves and other times just an eagle.


Jon immediately connected the dots. "The Warg King."


"Yes, Some people did call him that," the voice replied in a musing tone, "Are you his descendent, perhaps?"


"Er... Y-Yes... Yes, I am," Jon said hesitatingly, as while it wasn't a completely truth, technically, he wasn't actually lying.


The Warg King was an ancient myth mentioned in a few dusty old texts in the library of Winterfell. He was a monarch and a skinchanger who lived in the North at an unknown point in history, ruled the Sea Dragon Point when he was alive and was said to have been an ally with the children of the forest.


But like all the other petty kings of the North, he was also defeated by the Kings of Winter of House Stark, and as was their custom at that time, the Starks killed his sons, beasts, and greenseers, but took his daughters as prizes... so in a skewed way he did share some blood with the man.


"Good... Good... How long it has been..." the voice said in a nostalgic tone as if it was remembering all the fond memories of his younger days.


"I don't know... A long long time,"


"Hmm... I know what you came to me for boy," he voice suddenly changed tone, "But you're too late now... I am old now and don't have much desire to go on adventures anymore... the only thing I can do much of now is just eat and sleep..."


Jon was immensely disappointed when he heard that, he already envisioned all kinds of scenarios in his mind about what he would do with all the gold that he would retrieve from the sea bed with the Kraken's help and now to hear that he wouldn't come with him was almost devastating.


"But—"


Thankfully the voice continued, "I have a young granddaughter who was always very interested in all the tales of adventures that I used to tell her when she was young, so I am sure that she'll be happy to accompany you for a few years,"


"Really!" Jon exclaimed, "Where is she? Where can I find her?" he asked excitedly.


"Oh! She's hunting not that far from here. Let me call her," Without waiting for Jon's response, the Kraken sent out a massive sound pulse, outside of a human's range, that Jon could only sense through the sudden waves created around his real body.


While they waited for the Kraken's granddaughter, Jon realized a crucial detail he had overlooked "Wait! You said that she's young, right? How young are we talking about?"


The Kraken replied casually, "She's just a toddler. But give her a few decades, and she'll be big enough..."


'But I don't have a few decades...' JJon's heart sank. He didn't have decades to wait. He wanted a fearsome sea creature to explore the world's seas from Bravoos to Quarth to the Sothoryos unhindered and not a baby squid that he would have to raise, "T-Then what about you son or your daughter?"


"My Son? My son is with his mate in a far far away place..." Jon immediately saw an image of a mysterious peninsula shrouded and hidden inside enormous poisonous clouds of smoke... probably the Old Valyrian stronghold, "And besides he's not much of a fan of you humans, so I don't think you should go anywhere near him if you don't want to become food—Oh, she's here,"


And indeed Jon could make out another mind approaching them at astonishing speeds. The new consciousness while still absurdly big compared to the normal living creatures he usually saw, was a lot smaller than the old Kraken's consciousness.


"Grandpa! You called?" the newcomer immediately asked her grandfather using sounds and vibrations and Jon picked up her meaning from her mind through the usual method instead of the almost human conversation he was having with the Old Kraken in Old Tongue. But that made sense as it would be too absurd for the Kraken to be able to teach Old Tongue to his Progeny.


"Remember Child, you once told me that you wanted to go on adventure like your grandpa when you were young?"


"Yes, I remember," the young lively mind replied.


"Well I found you a friend who will take you on those adventures—"


"Really! Where is he, Grandpa?" she interrupted him impatiently and immediately started searching the depths excitedly.


"He is there... on the surface,"


Not even a few seconds after that Jon felt that mind approaching him rapidly through the depths, and then instead of the baby squid that he was expecting a massive surface appeared below him and started to raise him above the surface.


"Waaa...."


An absurdly massive octopus head had suddenly appeared below him and if not for the night every single person onboard the ship would have seen her.


Jon had never seen a creature so big in his entire life, even the biggest blue whale he had seen in his previous life seemed like a small fish compared to it.


"Hello! Are you my new Friend!"


'If she's a young one,' Jon thought in horrified fascination as he looked at her massive size, 'Then how fucking big is the Old Grandpa,'


...


"Did ya finish the task?" Mance inquired without turning around.


"Aye, the fucker is dead," Tormund responded as he approached. I've brought his wives or daughters, whatever they are," he added, his face scrunching up in disgust. "Left 'em with Dalla, so now they're your problem."


"Don't fret 'bout that" Mance replied while handing the red-headed burly man the pouch of ale at his waist, "I am sure we can find work for them," he smirked while jerking his head towards the valley below them.


Both of them were standing on a small hill covered with snow, not far away from the coast, that overlooked a vast valley filled with trees. In the valley, Wildlings from various clans, men and women alike, were working together without the usual bloodshed, a sight almost miraculous.


The Freefolk were toiling with all their might on all kinds of things, some were cutting trees, others were turning them into smaller pieces for handling, some were just moving stuff from one place to another, and some more were bringing sacks on their back that were filled with metal mined from a distant mine.


"I don't know why you're doing so much for some southern shit!" Tormund grumbled after taking a hearty swig, and almost emptying the pouch, "That bastard's got our folk working like thralls here, and now he wants us to off folks like Caster. You gone all soft from your trips south, Mance?"


Jon had been pretty clear in his recent letters that Mance needed to cut off all sources of information the Night's Watch had north of the Wall. If they got word of what was happening here and snitched to the lords, All their trade plans would die in their infancy


"Slaves work on orders and they work 'cause they got no choice and get nothin' in return for it. What we are doin' here is called trade, and these people are working hard not 'cause I told them to but 'cause they want to get their hands on the food that I promised them," Mance replied patiently. He had already repeated the same words too many times when he explained to the clan leaders of all the different tribes so by now he was already used to all the questions and scepticism, "We are going to get a lot of food in exchange for anything we trade... You like food don't ya?"


"Ah! Whatever! I don't understand it, but I'll go along with it for now." Tormund grumbled. He then nodded toward another hill across from them, where clan leaders who had refused Mance's offer gathered. Among them stood the Magnar of Thenn and the Lord of Bones, also known as Rattleshirt. "But you do know that not all of them are happy with what you're doing here,"


"Don't worry 'bout them," Mance reassured Tormund. "I've talked to Styr, and he'll join once he sees the trade workin'." the Thenns were one of the most sophisticated tribes this side of walls and they also had regular deals with the Giants so if they joined in this project it would be a huge boon, "Many others are probably waitin' to see results before they make up their minds. As for the Rattleshirt... he's just a little man with some savages, he'll not be a hindrance,"


"I wouldn't be so sure 'bout that," Tormund replied with a sceptical shrug. "Heard Rattle shirt's called on Varamyr Sixskins... probably to help him loot the ships of your man from the South when he arrives,"


"Did he know... And how did he know about Jon being a warg—Ah! Ygritte!" Mance shook his ruefully as he realised who was the leak, "That girl talks too much for her own good,"


"So... Are you going to warn your southern partner 'bout this situation,"


"No need," Mance replied with a knowing smile. "If I'm right, he likely knows everything already..."


///

 

[LazyWizard]

*sigh*


"I... am... tired..." Frost thought ruefully as she flew aimlessly over the endless expanse of the dark blue ocean, with no land in sight in any direction


"No. You're Not," Jon's absentminded reply sounded in her mind, "I know for sure that you fly and maintain a state like this without flapping your wings and skillfully using the surrounding winds for weeks and weeks... So I know that you're not tired."


About a month and a half had passed since the last battle with the Ironborn ships and during this time Jon had made a lot of very profitable trips all over the western coast, even managing to add two more Trading Galleons to his fleet. The Starkhorse business was not the only one that was booming, in fact, other Northern products were also in enough demand that he was already in talks with Lord Glover of Deepwood Motte for a second port for ease of transport from the Mainland.


The Ironborn hadn't been up to any of their usual mischievousness around these parts since that ambush and his minions who had been keeping an eye on them told him that Balon wanted to keep a low profile at the moment and that most of the extreme-right pirates had already gone to the Stepstones, which is said to be a thriving home to them. And while he knew that it wouldn't be the last he would battle with them, Jon was at least relieved to know that he wouldn't have to deal with those scrouges for quite a while.


At that moment his physical body was at the Bear Island port preparing all the ships that he would take for the upcoming trade with the Wildlings. And while he had managed to acquire enough ships during the last battle so that this trade wouldn't affect his Southern one, he wouldn't be able to take too many of them because of the need to keep secrecy. He was only going to bring the most loyal of crew and even then he would try to make sure that he only brought the most essential crew required.


And while overlooking the loading of ships, his mind was connected with only the thinnest of threads to Frost, which meant that he could neither see nor hear anything that she could like he usually would. So instead of sharing any senses with Frost, this connection only enabled them to talk with each other in their minds without interruption, and because it was really efficient, they could do this for hours... it was almost like a phone call from his previous life.


"I am tired," Frost replied firmly, "Seeing nothing but blue sky and the blue sea in all directions again and again, every day is so... so..."


"Boring," Jon supplied helpfully, "So that means you're not tired, but just bored,"


Frost was still learning all the nuances of the common tongue so from time to time, she had trouble finding the words to express herself but it was already very remarkable that she was able to learn so quickly. 'Now she just needed to develop one of those voice boxes that those parrots like birds possess and she would be good to go...' Jon thought absentmindedly while imagining all the pranks he could pull on his siblings if she even developed this ability.


"Yes! Yes, that word. Bored! I am very bored right now," Frost said in a whining tone, "So can I not do it from now on, please... and it is not like it's turning out to be any useful anyway... if I haven't been able to find anything until... there very little chance that I would in the future..."


The reason she was flying aimlessly was that Jon had tasked her to carpet search the complete west side, from the shore near the wall to as far as she could go in a few days and then back to shore and begin once again while moving a little South each time so that in the end she would have completely scouted the accessible part on the West side of Westeros which was still a mystery to everyone.


The main reason for this carpet search was that he wanted to have somewhat of a backup plan for the Wildlings, in case the White Walker turned out to be too overwhelming in the future. So he thought that if during his search Frost was able to find some kind of a big enough island there that no one knew about, then even if the Northern Lords prove to be too stubborn in the future about giving the Wildlings a place to live, then he would have some other place to settle them... somewhat of a safe haven, so that at least the Wildlings don't get exterminated completely and turn into the walking dead.


Jon thought about it for a while before he said, "It has really been unfair on you...huh! Fine, then, you only need to search for a few more days and if you really can't find anything then we'll call this a failure..."


*Squeak!* Frost immediately cheered at that, "A-And you also need to get me a good gift this time for all the hard work that I've been doing... And not something like the last time when you said you'd get me a gift and instead you bought that stupid bird with you..."


"Hey! I thought you would become friends with Tweety... and I remember clearly that Tweety was incredibly excited when she met you..."


"That stupid bird is excited all the time," Frost snorted derisively, "And why would I ever want to become friends with the critter... she is about the size of one of my little claws and I could eat her in a single gulp, and she is stupid and..." and so on, Jon had to listen for quite a while as Frost started to badmouth Tweety with everything that came to her mind, "And just because she was a little helpful during the last battle doesn't mean that she's special... that bird brain can't even learn the common tongue, Humph! Humph!"


It took a while for Jon to pick up the reason behind Frost's sudden hostility from her mind... it seems that Frost was a little jealous because of all the new companions that Jon had been getting lately and in addition to feeling left out she was also a little scared that he would leave her when she became less useful.


Jon didn't waste a single moment after finding out the crux of the issue and immediately tried to fix the situation, "You're absolutely right, my friend. There's no one in the world who can compare to you. No one is as smart as you or is as beautiful as you or has such pretty feathers—"


"I see it!"


Jon's shower of praises on Frost was suddenly interrupted by her, "What is it? What do you see?"


"I think I see an island,"


"What—" Jon immediately put down the work he was doing at that moment and immediately concentrated his mind, widening the connection with Frost he was immediately able to see what Frost was talking about.


Far off in the distance was a very small green dot barely visible even with Frost's magical eyes, "That looks too small doesn't it? Could it be another dud?" And it wouldn't be the first time if that was the case, there were a couple of close calls before where they had gotten incredibly excited about their discovery only to later realize that the island they found could barely hold a thousand people so was completely useless.


"No! T-This one may just be it—" Frost said excitedly, being able to see better with the same eyes and then without waiting for his answer she immediately flapped her majestic wings a few times and zoomed across the sky, the acceleration was a joke as she had suddenly increased her speed from a leisurely helicopter to a fighter jet.


It only took them a couple of minutes before they were close enough for Jon to see the Island or Islands in its entirety. There were a total of five islands in front of them, two very small ones, two medium-sized islands about the size of Pyke, and the biggest one was almost double the size of Bear Island.


"This is it... you did it, Frost," Jon said with glee in his tone as he looked at the islands filled to the brim with greenery, not only that but he was also able to hear some faint bird calls from the Islands, which meant that life already thrived here, which was just the cherry on top.


'Looks like we finally got our backup plan...'


....


While Jon and Frost were working hard to try and counter the Long Night, on the East side of Westeros his business was facing some difficulties in Braavos.


"Alright, Boys, get on with it," Sam shouted towards workers after the ships had properly docked. "We don't have much time so pick up the pace!" They had bought a total of five ships loaded with Starkhorses from White Harbour to sell in Bravoos, so it would take a long time to unload them.


Merchant Sam had come a long way from only doing leather business in the North. Now Jon had placed him in charge of his whole operation on the eastern side. But even though he had tried his hardest, there wasn't much wiggle room available here for a new Merchant group to establish itself.


Unlike the western shore where there had been no trade between the North and South via sea for centuries, it wasn't the same on this side. Here the Manderly already had their hands in pretty much all kinds of Northern products so Jon had ordered him to only focus on selling Starkhorses for the moment, which meant that the profit was a bit less here compared to the other side.


"Be careful with that, You Idiot! Listen up! If I find a single scratch on any of the Starkhorses because of your carelessness then you can forget about stepping even a single foot off the ship—"


"Boss!" His aide suddenly interrupted him and when turned towards he saw him sporting a dumbfounded look on his face while pointing at something behind him.


"What!" Sam barked as he was feeling uncomfortable at having his tirade getting stopped mid-way, it was as if there was a bone stuck in his throat.


"I-It's here again!"


"What's here again—" he began while tuning around but his words got stuck in his throat as he saw a familiar pristine white paper stuck on the wall behind him, it was a wall on the port near the place where they always docked. "Oh! No! No! No! NO! Please don't let it be us..." he prayed to the old gods while slowly walking towards the notice.


Only one institute in the whole of Braavos was wealthy enough to waste an expensive piece of paper to give out a simple notice, the one place every single debtor was scared of, The Iron Bank.


Sam didn't know what they had done to incur their wrath but starting a few months ago, they had started getting notices from the Ironbank that their import tax for Starkhorses had been increased. And it wasn't just a single time instead after every couple of trips they would be greeted with the same notice that was slowly strangling their business.


And his dread turned out to be true when he got close enough to read the paper...


"Did they increase it again, Boss," the aide asked anxiously when he saw Sam standing there with a deathly pale face.


"Y-Yes... by 10% once again,"


"But that is... that is just absurd," the aide replied frustratedly, "How are we supposed to do business then, our orders have already been decreasing lately due to the harsh import taxes and the resultant sudden increase in prices and if we increase them once again I am afraid the orders would stop altogether," the main selling point Starkhorses had always been that it was cheaper than a horse in the long term, so if that wasn't on the table then they would lose their target customer base.


"I-I'll do something about it, Don't worry, " Sam said resolutely after taking a deep breath, "I'll go straight to the Iron Bank and try and reason with those greedy bastards.... to see if they can stop this absurdness."


"They didn't listen to you the last time... How would it be different this time,"


"I have to try though," Sam said with a helpless smile, "And if nothing else, I'll at least try to find the reason for this unreasonable tax that is only applied to Starkhorses,"


"I hope you succeed boss... For all our sakes,"


...


The evening Sun was just about to set and the otherworldly orange colour reflecting on the water flowing through the city created a picturesque scenario that all the artists around the world would die to see. But the aide who had been standing outside the massive building, also known as the temple of Money, was in no mood to enjoy that scenery.


The aide had been waiting there outside the bank in the shade of a tree since early morning, waiting for his boss who had gone inside early in the morning but he still hadn't left the premises. The whole day his stomach had been in turmoil over the thought of whether he would still have a job or not... or maybe he was just hungry.


Ever since joined this ship his life had completely changed, his parents were proud of him, he had gotten married to a comely Northern girl and he even had a child on the way so it would be very devastating for him if he lost his job as the future would be very bleak.


'There he is,' The aide sighed in relief when he finally caught a glimpse of Merchant Sam coming down the stairs, but his relief was killed shortly when he saw the slumped shoulders of his boss, along with an absentminded expression on his face, it just spelt bad news.


With dread pooling in his stomach, he approached Sam who also caught sight of him and met him halfway. He immediately asked when they were close enough, "H-How was it, Boss? Did you convince them?"


Sam opened his mouth to answer but it seemed that the words were stuck in his throat as he was able to get anything out of his mouth, so he just shook his head with a self-deprecating expression on his face.


The colour completely drained out of the already deathly pale face of the aide when he got the answer he was dreading the most, "T-That can't be it, boss... there has to be something that we can do. What if... What if we ask the Lord Manderly for help, I am sure they wouldn't mind helping us out just this once—"


"We can't," Sam shook his head after clearing his throat, "That greedy bastard already warned me about that..."


Sam could still remember the smirk on that bastard face as he sat behind his desk and declared that there was nothing he could do about it.


...


"I know that you earn enough from that contraption of yours, so what's the problem with sharing a part of it with us too..." he had said with those unfeeling eyes.


"But, my lord, the tax was already too high, and with this new tax increase, no one would want to buy from us anymore..... we would simply not be able to sustain it—" Sam had tried to plead with the man to no avail.


"That is your problem, isn't it? Not mine," he had said nonchalantly as if he wasn't just putting dozens of people out of jobs.


"B-But My Lord—"


"That'll be all, you can leave now," and with that cold dismissal Sam had stood up from his chair with a helpless expression on his face and went to the door, but not before hearing his last shot, "And just so you know, I wouldn't contact the Manderlys if I were you, the last you called them to intervene I had to honour them because of our long history of trade but this time... I wouldn't be so lenient so if you don't want to harm our relations then don't call them,"


...


"But I don't understand... Why? What exactly did we do to deserve such animosity from them..."


"That I was able to find out about," Sam said with a fierce look on his face, "And while it cost me a big chunk to bribe the guards, the information was worth it..."


"What is it?"


"It turns out that there is some kind of election upcoming for some high positions in the bank and as you'd expect from those greedy bastards, the candidates are selected from those who bring in the highest revenue no matter their methods... so that bastard decided that we were a soft target and decided to squeeze us dry..."


"Just because of a silly..." The aide was left speechless at this new knowledge before he shook his head with a rueful expression, "So this is the end, huh..."


"No it isn't..." Sam said with a resolute expression on his face while looking towards the North, "Now that I've tried all avenues and failed... It's finally time to call 'him'... the only one who brings us out of this predicament..."


"Who?"


"The Boss of you Boss..."

 

[LazyWizard]

THE BAY OF ICE... it wasn't exactly what it sounded like.


This expansive bay hugged the northwestern coast of Westeros, flanked by the imposing Northern Mountains to the east and bounded by the Wolfswood and the Sea Dragon Point to the south. Bear Island occupied a significant portion of the bay, but it was only at its northernmost tip, where it brushed against the frigid shores of the True North, that it earned its ominous reputation. Sailors who ventured here quickly understood the treacherous nature of this icy expanse.


Five Ironborn longships, their sails bearing the colours of the North, elegantly sailed through these frigid waters toward their ultimate destination—the True North. The sea was littered with icebergs of varying shapes and sizes; some were mere fragments, while others resembled colossal mountains, dwarfing even the largest of ships.


Navigating through this perilous maze required utmost caution. These frozen monoliths concealed much of their bulk beneath the surface, luring unsuspecting vessels to a watery grave. But these five ships were sailing through the last part of their trip towards the true North quite easily as they seemed to not be afraid of the icebergs at all, and they Navigated amidst the chunks as if they had a ready-made map of this place.


Any other seafarer would have already furled their sails, proceeding with extreme caution, calculating every move to avoid deadly collisions. These five vessels, though laden with cargo, maintained their full speed without fear. The reason behind their confidence was no surprise, considering the man at their helm.


"I am telling you, Jon. You're doing an absolutely stupid thing here," Val warned Jon with an anxious look on her face but Jon who was standing at the bow of the ship in front of her, didn't seem to be taking her seriously as he leisurely looked at the passing scenery without a care in the world.


Both of them were wearing their winter clothes; Jon was in customary black attire with an additional brown jacket made of bear pelt and leather gloves while Val was wearing her own wildling clothes that had somehow survived until now and were as good as new after having been washed and cleaned once, making her once again look like a real wildling.


"Hmm... What are you talking about?" Jon asked off-handedly.


"Are ye deliberately being dumb? I am obviously talking about this—This!" she exclaimed while waving her hand through the empty air encompassing the desolate decks of all the ships, "These nearly empty ships with only a handful of sailors, this is the force you're taking for a trade with the Free Folk…"


Jon had deliberately kept the crew to a bare minimum—just five sailors per ship—selecting only the most loyal, those with little animosity towards the Wildlings, and those who could maintain their silence. The only reason he could even get away with sailing with so little crew was that Bear Island was one of the closest places to the true North.


"If you go to them with this little protection— then they are going to eat you up, chew you out, and not even let out a burp—Stop Smirking! You bastard!" Val cursed frustratedly when she saw him smiling and not taking her seriously at all. She knew that getting angry wouldn't get her anywhere so she took a deep breath and tried once more a bit calmly, "I know that you're not that stupid... so you must have some kind of a secret plan, and I just want to know—"


"Oh!" Jon suddenly exclaimed and interrupted her while turning his attention towards the sky with a curious look on his face, "It looks like the welcoming party is already here..."


"Welcoming party? What—" Val asked in a confused tone while turning around before she caught sight of a small eagle flying high up above in front of the ship, looking at the ship with a look that was too curious for a bird. "That's not one yours, is it?"


"No, it's not mine," Jon replied, a sly smile gracing his features. "Since they've gone to the trouble of preparing a welcome for us, I'd hate to be impolite and not reciprocate."


Jon's cunning grin sent a shiver down Val's spine, and she silently pitied the Wildling who had earned Jon's displeasure.


...


On the other side, a few minutes from the Frozen Shore's coast stood deserted houses constructed from wood and stone. These homes once belonged to the Frozen Clans, who lived here before joining Mance's army. However, these dwellings were no longer empty; they had been claimed by the Warband led by the Weeper, plus an unexpected guest.


A peculiar group had congregated around the largest house in the village's centre. A massive snow bear rested outside, accompanied by three small wolves and a Shadowcat. Gathered around them, outside the house's entrance, were the wildling men from the Weeper's Warband, with the Weeper himself at the forefront. They all gazed inside the house at a small, bald, grey-faced man with wide-open eyes, eyes that were completely white and his consciousness was far away inside the eagle at the moment.


The instant he spotted ships through the eagle's eyes, he severed the connection and summoned the Weeper before returning to the eagle to check on the ships and report exactly when they would reach their ambush site.


After taking note of every single detail, Varamyr was just about to leave the eagle's mind when he suddenly caught sight of the most beautiful wildling he had ever seen on one of the leading ships. He recognized her instantly, having heard tales of her beauty and how she became lost south of the Wall during a raid.


He decided then and there that she would be part of his reward, in addition to the ship Weeper had promised him, as it would be pleasant to have some company when he decided to head south to the warmer climates.


As he was admiring his prize, it took him a while to notice the man conversing with Wildling Val and the moment he looked into the man's eyes he was almost scared to death as the Man was staring right back at him as if he knew that Varamyr was inside the eagle.


At that moment he immediately realised that he was the warg that Mance had seen south of the wall. The man said something to Val beside him before he suddenly gave him a sinister smile that sent alarms ringing inside Varamyr's mind but before he could do anything about it something huge slammed into him from above *BAM!* taking all the air out of his lungs, making the eagle scream in agony.


"SQUEAAAAAK!!!!"


Huge claws suddenly appeared out of nowhere and snapped his spine in two sending an unimaginable pain directly into his mind. Thankfully the neck was snapped next and the eagle died before Varamyr could go insane from the pain and he was snapped out of the eagle's mind.


...


Back inside the house, all the wildlings had backed from the warg who had suddenly started screaming out of nowhere with his eyes rolled back. The man was shivering and thrashing around on the ground like an insane lunatic. His pets were equally agitated, growling anxiously around him.


"Is he dyin'?" inquired a thick, blond-haired man, known for his weeping eyes, the Weeper, who stood there with a massive, curved steel scythe and a curious expression.


"Don't think so," answered one of his men hesitantly. He attempted to check on the warg but was driven away by the growling animals.


The warg's open eyes suddenly regained their pupils at that moment as he became aware of his surroundings and stopped screaming himself hoarse. With his body still twitching, and his head screaming from pain, Varamyr wasn't doing so well at the moment.


"Are they here? Are the ships here?" Weeper asked impatiently, showing little concern for the struggling warg's well-being.


"Yes," Varamyr answered hoarsely as he slowly stood up trying to regain control of his body, "Yes, the ships are on their way not that far from here...


"Good! That means we can't waste any more time—"


"Wait! I-I want the warg from the South as my reward... and I want him alive... that bastard somehow killed one of my pets... I want to roast that cunt alive... I want to torture him within an inch of his life..." he said hatefully gritting his teeth, "He will cry and beg for death but I won't give him that until I make him regret—"


"Yes! Yes! You can have him," Weeper interrupted the warg's monologue impatiently, "Now show me where the ships are..."


...


"They'll come through here in a few moments," Varamyr said while pointing towards a narrow strip of water, between the shore and a huge mountainous iceberg, that was the only way for the ship to pass through to reach true North.


They were all hiding behind a small snow-capped hill near the shore from where they got a good vantage point towards anything that was coming towards them, this natural barrier was one of their trump cards that was going to be useful in capturing the southern ships said to be laden with rich goods.


"That is good," Weeper smirked, already thinking about what he would do with all the riches he would loot from those soft Southerners, "Listen good, you fuckers, the moment the ships start passing through that area we are immediately going to run and jump abroad the ships and seize control... We'll kill all those soft-cocked fuckers from the south and take all their food and drinks... and then we feast TONIGHT!!"


"AYE!!!"


All 40 wildlings belonging to the Weeper's warband screamed while banging their weapons in the air. They had six archers among them, while the rest carried spears and a few bronze swords. Only Weeper bore a steel scythe.


"Remember my reward," Varamyr reminded Weeper from his seat on the female bear's shoulder. "And I want that girl as well along with the bastard and the ship..."


Weeper wanted to gut the shit right there and be done with it now that he had outlived his usefulness but he reconsidered when he saw the bear, wolves and the Shadowcat surrounding the warg, who were watching him vigilantly.


"They are here!" The lookout suddenly shouted from atop the snowy hill while pointing towards something on the other side.


The wildlings excitedly climbed the hill and sure enough, there in the distance they were able to see five big ships slowly coming towards them. All of them started breathing heavily at seeing the wooden boxes placed on the deck of the ships that were probably filled with all kinds of exotic food from the South.


"Wait! Let them come closer," Weeper said, stopping some of his over-eager clansmen as the ship came closer to the ambush site.


And then, out of nowhere...


One moment all of them were waiting for the signal to attack and in the next moment an arrow suddenly pierced the eye of one of the archers, sending the wildlings into disarray.


"Fuck! Where did that come from?"


"How can the fucker see us?" "We are hiding behind a hill! It's impossible!"


The one thing Wildling knew better than anything else was how to ambush and they also knew that you need to cut your losses and run once your ambush fails. Two more archers fell to arrows while the wildlings bickered, further intensifying the chaos.


"You bastards! don't forget, he's a Warg!"


"That's not how warging works—a warg has to leave his body so he can't shoot arrows..." Varamyr attempted to explain, but no one paid him any heed. The wildlings hesitated between attacking and fleeing. At that moment, Varamyr was hiding down under the female bear using her as a shield to hide from the arrows as he knew that it was futile to run with his weak body.


"Don't panic!" Weeper yelled at the wildings, "We can still attack—" but before he could try to calm them down another tragedy stuck them. One of the wolves suddenly howled loudly, broke free from Varamyr and started attacking the archers.


"What the—" "Warg! Control your beast AHH—"


And soon after the other wolves followed the first one and not long after went the Shadowcat, all of them suddenly turning on the wildlings and feasting on their flesh.


"What the fuck! Warg! What are you doing?" Weeper screamed.


"It's not me," Varamyr cried, feeling another connection break in his mind "It's the enemy warg! He is controlling my animals—Ahhh!!"


At last, seeing the pandemonium around him, Weeper knew that the ambush this time had failed and immediately decided to run away, "Retreat! RETREAT!!" he screamed while backing away and trying to save as many of the warbands as he could from the arrows and the feral animals.


Varamyr had fallen down from the bear's back during the sudden rebellion of the animals under his control. Everything was blurry and his head was hurting from all the broken connection when he suddenly felt hot air behind his ear and his body suddenly froze up.


He slowly turned around his head to find the female bear growling at him from an arm's distance away and, he wasn't able to find a single trace of compassion in those massive eyes instead her cruel red eyes were filled with hate, hate that spoke of years of slavery and suppressed cruelty that she'd endured.


"W-Wait! Don't! I Am Your Master! OBEY ME!" Varamyr screamed incoherently as he stumbled backwards, his eyes turning white intermittently as he tried to regain control over the beast but it was futile as he was rebuffed again and again due to an additional sphere of protection around the beast's mind that he was sure was the work of the warg from the South.


"ROAR!!!!—"


The bear already very irritated at the puny two-legged turned even more angry at the repeated attempts to control her so she released all her anger and slammed her massive paws down on the little human head, "No! Sto—" and splattered the head in one shot over the snowy grounds.


Varamyr was even denied the chance to a second life that he had envisioned previously as all of his wargs were denied to him giving him a true death...

 

[LazyWizard]

"Yes! Put that with the rest," Mance shouted towards the spearwife who arrived last minute to deposit a sack filled with all kinds of animal pelts that she'd collected over the years, "Go and stand over there..." he directed her after she placed her sack with the rest, toward the ragtag group, filled with folk of all ages, men, women, and little ones, all kinds of free folks who had worked over the past few weeks for Mance as well those who had brought their goods to trade and were eagerly awaiting their promised share of food.


Mance and his closest aides were all standing at the very front near the shore, waiting for Jon. And placed some distance away from them were all the goods that they were going to trade, goods which included a massive pile of wood logs, another one of pelts (only the pelts that Mance was sure were good enough were selected as there were quite a few wildlings that had tried to sneak in decade-old half spoiled stuff that not even beggars would use as blankets) and the most precious one was a small pile of unprocessed silver ore.


No fixed exchange rate had been established between Jon and Mance yet as there was no proper currency on this side of the wall, so they had decided that at the start, they would work with a simple barter system where Mance would try to provide as much high-value goods as he could while Jon would try his best to feed as many wildlings as possible.


This system depended on the goodwill of both parties, leaving room for exploitation, especially on Mance's side. However, he had no choice, with Winter looming and an impending danger beyond his ability to combat. It was the best option he had, at least until he somehow managed to gather enough strength to breach the Wall.


Furthermore, without a proper currency, Mance hadn't paid the free folk who'd worked for him with anything but his word and the promise of a fair share of food. Luckily, his word held weight on this side of the Wall, and there hadn't been any issues so far. Now, all he could do was hope Jon would hold up his end of the deal and deliver the promised food, or else he feared even his reputation wouldn't save him from the wrath of the disgruntled wildlings.


"Don't see Weeper among 'em.," Tormund quietly grunted beside Mance while jerking his head towards the group of leaders who were standing to the side. The group consisted of all the other wildling leaders and clan mothers such as Magnar Thenn, Rattleshirt, Harma Dog'shead and a few others, all the leaders who were still on the fence with Mance's whole idea of trade with the people from beyond the wall, so they were all here to watch and see how this all goes through before deciding if they wanted to join hands with him or...


"So?"


"So I think that he went through with that convoluted plan of his with his Warband to attack the ships midway," Tormund answered with a raised eyebrow, "Aren't you worried that your little friend is getting taken down right at this moment?"


"No... Not really," Mance shrugged unconcernedly as even though he didn't have much of an idea of where his confidence came having never met the boy face to face after he grew up, he just knew that a man like him with all the wargs under him would probably never be taken down with just a simple ambush.


"Hmm... You say that but the sun is almost above our heads," Tormund pointed his finger up towards the sky, "Isn't that the time he was supposed to have arrived... so doesn't it mean that either he's late or he's already been taken—"


"I see them!!" a scream suddenly pierced through the atmosphere and they both along with everyone else turned around to find Dalla, Mance's other half pointing towards the distance in the sea where five blurry shapes were gradually becoming visible as they sailed towards them, expertly navigating through the Bay of Ice.


"They are here!!"


"The Southerners are here!"


"I heard that all of them ride on horses there! Do you think they brought horses with them?"


"Do you think they bought their army with them?"


"Mother, can we eat them?"


An electric sense of excitement spread through the throngs of wildlings present there at the sudden appearance of the five ships and everyone suddenly whispering and shouting at each other, some with excitement in their heart, some with fear, some with hope and a select few with aggression and greed.


As the ships got closer and closer the whispers slowly started to die down as tension began to fill the air, when abruptly out of nowhere all the ships halted simultaneously and started lowering their anchors at quite a distance from the shore.


"What? Why are they stopping all the way there?" Tormund voiced the question that everyone had in their mind with a confused expression on his face.


"I-I don't know..." Mance too was bewildered by the sudden situation as he had no idea what Jon was doing here. And the wildlings gathered behind him also started to get unsettled and started shouting their own questions.


"Do you think they got cold feet? Maybe they got scared after seeing how many of us are actually here..."


"That wouldn't make sense, after coming all the way here..." Dalla countered with a scoff.


"Wait! I think see a boat! They're lowerin' a boat!!"


And sure enough, everyone saw a single boat being lowered from the foremost ship, with two faint silhouettes visible inside it—one in white and the other in black.


The ships stayed at the place where they were anchored while the boats slowly rowed towards them. Everyone including Mance's mind was completely filled with confusion at the moment... Why did the boats stop so far away? Why were just only two people approaching them? And where the fuck was the Army, the force that was supposed to protect the goods?


The only reason Mance had been somehow able to dissuade most of the wildling leaders from immediately attacking and looting the ships for themselves was by telling tall tales about the huge Southern armies beyond the wall, about how they could easily decimate all of them with their mighty steel weapons, their tough armours and their fast horses... And now with only two defenceless people rowing towards them... it suddenly made things a lot more difficult for Mance.


While Mance grappled with his internal turmoil over the situation, the boats had covered nearly half the distance, gradually revealing the figures aboard to the wildlings on the shore. Almost immediately, someone recognized a person on one of the boats, and jubilant cries filled the air.


"VAL? THAT'S VAL!! ISN'T IT, VAAAL!!!" Dalla suddenly started shouting in excitement while waving her hands in the air when she saw the one wearing white was her lost sister.


Overwhelmed with joy, Dalla nearly made a dash for the icy water before Mance managed to physically restrain her, "Yes, that's Val, Dalla, but you need to calm down... she's coming towards anyway so you'll meet her soon enough..." Mance somehow managed to soothe the woman, though her focus remained fixed on the small boat approaching the shore with eager anticipation.


As the boat barely touched the shore, Dalla shook off Mance's grasp and sprinted straight for Val, who had also jumped out of the boat, ready to embrace her sister, whom she hadn't seen in months.


"Val! Val! It's really you. I was so worried... and I am so relieved now..." Dalla said, hugging and kissing her sister, tears welling in her eyes.


"Y-Yes, it's good to see you too, sister... I missed you..." Val choked out with a wet smile on her face before noticing the people coming toward them. "Mance, how are you? And Tormund, you bear fucker, you look the same as ever..."


"I look the same but girl, you've already gone beyond the wall and survived the South now, you shouldn't cry like a snot-nosed brat," Tromund snorted jokingly.


"Shut up you brute," Val replied with a chuckle before she noticed that someone important was missing, "Where's Ygritte? I don't see her,"


"She's stuck back home guarding the tents," Tormund explained with a shrug, "Apparently she's getting punished for being too much of a snitch..."


While the heartwarming reunion took place, the guest of honour, Jon, arrived not long after Val, leisurely making his way toward Mance.


"Mance Rayder, The-King-Beyond-The-Wall," Jon greeted with a smile, extending his hand.


"Jon Snow, The Son of Stark," Mance nodded, shaking Jon's hand. "It's the first time we're meeting face to face..."


"Hmm... Probably not the first time..." Jon raised an eyebrow with a mischievous smile.


Mance was confused for just a moment before he realised what Jon was talking about, "Ah... I would rather forget about that embarrassing encounter..." he said while shaking his head with a rueful smile recalling his embarrassing situation when Jon suddenly came in front of him in the form of a Shadowcat.


While Mance and Jon were exchanging pleasantries, Dalla had managed to gather herself and was now nagging Val, "Don't worry, Val, you'll have plenty of time to meet, Ygritte in the future. Because I am not letting you out of my sight anytime soon..."


"Ahem! That is going to be a problem sister," Val said with a sheepish smile before she jerked her head towards Jon and continued, "He gave me a very important job so I'll probably not be able to stay at home for as long as you are thinking about..."


"What?! What are you talking about?" she said in a half-alarmed voice while fiercely turning towards Jon and Mance who had been paying attention to the conversation from the start. Mance was also looking at Jon with confusion in his eyes at Dalla's question.


"Oh! It's nothing much," Jon replied with a nonchalant expression, "She's just talking about becoming the captain of the ships," he waved his hands behind at the faraway ships, "After all I can't always be here going back and forth carrying goods for you can I? So she's going to be the one who's going to be the captain on my behalf and the one in charge of all the trade that would happen in the future..."


Jon had already put her through the accelerated course at the Bear Island Navy School over the past few months and not only that, after she had passed from there he had also taken her under his wing and tried to cram as much knowledge as he could inside her head, knowledge that would make it easy for her to navigate as a captain. So he was confident that she would be able to handle all the responsibilities of the fleet in the future and even if she was lacking somewhere she could make up for it with the experience in the future while sailing back and forth.


"B-But... But..." Dalla was distressed and speechless for a few moments at the sudden dilemma in front of her, on one side she didn't want to lose her baby sister again and on the other side, it would be a boon if Val, a familiar face was the one in charge of the trade as that would smoothen a lot of the hurdles and she didn't want to hinder the trade by denying her the chance.


"We'll talk about the details later," Mance interjected, realizing that the rest of the Wildlings were growing restless as they conversed in hushed tones. "Tormund, offer Jon some white bread, and then I'll introduce you to the other leaders."


Tormund nodded expressionlessly and brought forward the already prepared plate of bread but just as he was about to present Jon with the guest rights, someone suddenly interrupted them.


"STOP!!"


A loud shout came out of the crowd and echoed throughout the gathering filled with the Wildlings and all of them turned around to find a small man with a knobby chin, thin moustache, and pinched cheeks come out of the crowd. He was wearing a yellowed broken giant's skull as his helm and also had a boiled leather armour covered with loosely tied bones from all kinds of animals such as aurochs, cows, elk etc, bones that rattled as he moved, which also gave him his infamous name, Rattleshirt.


"Don't be rushin' to grant him guest rights, Mance," Rattleshirt croaked out. "We still need to see if this pretty little cunt deserves it," he finished while looking towards Jon with a malicious look in his eyes.


"Don't fuck with me, Rattleshirt," Mance said dangerously, with his hands on his sword, "You already agreed not to intervene in the trade today so what the fuck do you think you're doing right now?"


"I did agree with that... We all did, I remember that quite clearly," Rattleshirt said nodding his head mockingly, "But I also remember everything else you said to persuade us... You said that he was Magnar from the South, that he was the Son of Stark, that he had an army of thousands upon thousands of well-trained soldiers under him. Soldiers with armours and weapons of steel, soldiers with fast horses and countless archers among people, you said all of those things, but..." he made a show of looking left to right searchingly, "But I see no signs of that fucking army here,"


"I am warning you—"


"So I say fuck what we said before," Rattleshirt ignored and interrupted Mance while turning towards the crowd of wildlings as well as the other leaders who were looking at him with interest in their eyes, "I say we kill this little fucker right here and then we take over his ships and all the food he so generously bought for us and WE FEAST!" he finished with a smile showing his cracked brown teeth and mad yellow-tinged eyes.


His speech immediately had a profound effect on most of the normal wildlings, who started nodding their heads and whispering to each other with greed in their eyes. Attacking and forcefully taking things was after all the norm here, but sadly for Rattleshirt, the people whose opinion actually mattered, the real leaders, the ones who commanded their respective clans, weren't so easy to sway.


After all, it wasn't like they hadn't already considered everything he was saying before, as if they hadn't the idea to loot the vessels from the beginning, they did... and they would have followed through with it if it was just a one-time thing, but it wasn't. It was a trade that would impact the future survival of their whole people, so they weren't as short-sighted as the other common Free folks.


They knew what was at stake here and they weren't too interested in the momentary satisfaction of eating good food for just a few weeks. They knew what the real danger was, the danger that was slowly encroaching on their territory, destroying their homes and the ones that they were completely helpless against so these supplies would be a well-timed lifeline for them in the future, which is why most of them were almost unaffected by Rattleshirt's speech... but the mad brute wasn't just done yet.


"I know what you're all worried about," he said looking directly towards the leaders, "But we don't have to depend on this brat's charity to survive... Because we could have something that we never had before... The ships," he said dramatically pointing towards the ships in the distance with a maniacal gleam in his eyes, "We steal his ships and then we use them to raid his home where we can steal even more ships... And then after that, we can go where we want, loot whoever we want and we won't have to depend on the bits and pieces that this brat throws us instead we can do whatever the fuck we want like we always Have!!"


"AYE!" "AYE!" "AYE!"


Quite a lot of wildlings followed suit and replied to his shout enthusiastically and this time even some leaders had excited expressions on their faces, and more importantly even the atmosphere in the periphery of Jon seemed to have shifted as Jon saw from the corner of his eyes Tormund nodding in agreement and even Mance displaying a momentary hesitation in his eyes before he controlled himself.


Seeing so many wildlings getting rowdy and banging their weapons while shouting with savage expressions, anyone else would've already peed their pants. But even as a lone man amidst thousands of hostile wildlings around him who were looking at him as if he was a piece of meat, Jon still maintained the comfortable smile that he had on his face from the beginning of the speech.


After all, it wasn't like Jon hadn't envisioned something like this happening from the start. In fact, he had agonised over this matter for quite a while as he knew that it was impossible for anyone to control all the wildlings and that sooner or later some brutes would get greedy and try to loot his ships. This would mean that he would have to maintain a sizable guard on the ships constantly. Which wouldn't be feasible in the long term, even after considering the sizable chunks of silver in the pile that he could see nearby.


So Jon had decided that he would need to do something.... something that would put the fear of God in all these savages, something that would completely dominate their minds, something that would make them piss their pants at even the thought of putting their hands on something of his... So when Rattleshirt started his speech Jon was quite happy as he had gotten the exact opportunity that he was craving for.


Mance saw that the situation was getting too out of control so he finally decided that he needed to do something to control them before something irreversible happened but just as he took a step forward someone else beat him to it, "Don't worry, I'll handle this..." Jon said to him with a smile before moving towards the centre.


The shouts abrptly started to die down which confused Rattleshirt who was enjoying all the attention, and when he looked towards them he realised that their attention was on something behind him so he turned around only to find that brat he was talking about killing brazenly walking straight towards him.


"Are you here to beg for your life, boy?" Rattleshirt asked loudly with a guffaw as Jon came to stand before him in a leisurely stance, "Because I am not in the mood to be merciful—"


"You're quite talkative for a wildling, Aren't you?" Jon interrupted with an amused expression on his face, "I mean even I was moved for a moment after hearing your impassioned speech and convinced you were a cunning southerner like me, not a Free Folk."


Rattleshirt immediately scowled as he heard the Wildlings behind him scoff and snort at that, "You can try and mock me all you want, but it won't change the truth about you dying today... This is True North, boy, here only the strong survive while the weak perish in the storm, that's how it's always been and how it would—"


"You're right," Jon interjected calmly, and Rattleshirt bristled with anger. "In fact, I agree with everything you've said. So why don't we settle this in a fair and square manner?" Jon drew his sword swiftly, mid-sentence. "If you somehow manage to kill me, you can have all five ships behind me." He gestured to the vessels. "But if I kill you..."


Jon paused for a moment, contemplatin', then shrugged. "Eh, you don't really have anything I need, so we'll call it even with your death."


Rattleshirt almost agreed in his fury but caught himself just in time. While he was quite confident when it came to a fight, this one was a bit different. He could see that even in this situation the boy looked too relaxed, so either he was bluffing or he was a really good fighter, but either way Rattleshirt didn't survive till now by risking his life when he didn't have to, "It seems that you still don't understand where you are boy... there's no such thing as 'fair' this side of the Wall," he smirked while making a gesture with his right hand and almost immediately some fifteen wildlings came out of the crowd one after the other with fierce smiles on their faces and slowly started to approach him along with Rattleshirt.


Seeing the situation go awry, Mance at last decided to step forward to stop this nuisance before something happened that would bring down the fury of Starks on them but he was once again halted in his tracks by Jon making a subtle stop sign with his hand behind him pointing in his direction without even looking towards him.


"What the hell does the boy think he's doing," he asked Val in a frustrated whisper.


"Don't know," Val shrugged while watching the happenings with narrowed eyes, "But it doesn't seem like it is out of his control yet," her eyes flicked to the sky for a moment where she managed to catch the fleeting blue shadow calmly circling above.


"Aww... Now that just cheating, " Jon said with mock sadness on his face while blatantly ignoring the warriors slowly approaching him, "You know cheating just takes all the fun out of the game," he shook his head with a disappointed sigh while putting his sword back in its sheath.


"So you finally decided to give up," Rattleshirt said with a gleeful tone while ignoring everything Jon said, "It's a wise decision, at least this way you'll get a quick death—"


"Blah! Blah! Blah!" Jon mimicked a mouth with his finger and mocked the lord of bones loudly, "Is that all you can do? I am almost falling asleep here after listening to all your drivel, Is that how you kill your enemies? By boring them to death—"


"ARGH!!! That's it, you arrogant brat! You've done it now, " Rattleshirt said with an enraged expression on his face, "I am not going to kill you now, I'll just cut off your arms and legs and then I'll bring you along with me and make you watch as I kill all your family and fuck all—"


"You talk too much," Jon cut him off in a dangerously calm tone with emotionless eyes before he abruptly raised his hands above his head and almost simultaneously something absolutely miraculous happened as an absurdly massive tentacle rose out of the sea right beside the shore mimicking his hand's movements making a visually horrifying spectacle that scared the shit out of every living wildling present there and left Rattleshirt and his clique frozen with shock.


Before they could even think of running away Jon suddenly slapped his hand towards the wildlings who were about to attack him and simultaneously the tentacle smashed into them and they were sent flying away like a pile of dominos destroyed by a child's tantrum.


Disgusting crunchy sounds of bones breaking echoed into the surroundings making even the hardened Wildlings nauseous and scream with terror.


"Ah—" "It's a monster," "Don't kill me,"


The Wildlings started to look at the bodies in terror and started backing away from the situation. The condition of the men and woman who set out to kill Jon was quite dreadful, almost half of them had died immediately from crushed organs while the rest were lying around haphazardly with broken limbs and crushed ribs, groaning in agony, but the most miserable one was their leader.


The tentacle had skillfully captured Rattleshirt during the attack and was holding him tight in his grip and playing with him as if he were a toy. Almost everyone who heard his pain-filled screams flinched and shivered as the tentacle shook him like a drum. Unfortunately, it didn't last long as the tentacle was too excited and accidently shook him too fast and broke the poor bastard's neck putting him out of his misery.


The entity with the tentacle seemed to be quite peeved when the screams suddenly stopped, then after trying a few times with no further sounds, the tentacle got angry and like a child upset when her toy broke she flicked and threw away the corpse far into the distance before going back to her standby position above the sea like a pillar rising towards the heavens.


"Ah... It doesn't seem like he'll be coming back anytime soon," Jon said nonchalantly while looking towards the distance where Rattleshirt had disappeared, "Ah! Well... so does anyone else want to try their hand at stealing my ships," he said with a smile while turning to the wildlings around him who were looking at him horrified awe-filled eyes and almost simultaneously everyone shook their heads like a rattle at his question and backed away.


Jon shrugged and turned towards the leaders in the distance who also seemed to be stuck dumb with what they had just seen, "How about you then?" Jon asked them the same question with an amused expression but none of them replied to him, in fact, all of them had their faces down and didn't even dare to look him in the eye.


"It looks like that'll be it for today, " Jon said while stretching his upwards with a lazy sigh before he nonchalantly turned to Mance and asked with a smile, "Shall we get back to it?"


Mance immediately gulped and nodded, "Y-Yes!"


Whatever happened in the future, if there was one thing Jon was sure of after seeing the sheer terror in everyone's eyes, it was that anything with his name on it would be safe on this side of the wall for quite a while.


///

 

[LazyWizard]

It was a clear sunny day in the North, and the people residing in the little town of Winterfell were bustling with enthusiasm as they went about their daily work. Merchants peddled their wares, blacksmiths pounded their anvils, and the cooks prepared their meals.


Usually, Winter was the time when Winterfell became fully occupied with the nearby Smallfolks gathering here to hide from the cold and to stave off their hunger. But it was the peak of the summer right now and the town was easily full, almost to the point of bursting. From blacksmiths to woodworkers, Merchants to Hunters, nobody seemed to be sitting idle and everyone seemed to have plenty of work on their hands.


The reason for all this could simply be attributed to the Starkhorse factory or rather factories on the outskirts.


The abundant work there was creating all kinds of direct and indirect jobs and was attracting workers from all over the North, not only that miraculously some families had even migrated up from the South, which must have broken some kind of long-standing record considering how rare it was for people to travel to North to find work instead of the other way around.


The east gate of Winterfell was lively with people from all walks of lives coming and going, some were Merchants who came to ask permission to do business and open shops, while others were regular Smallfolks looking to settle their petty disputes. The gate remained open most of the day, necessitating guards to stay alert all the time and were kept busy as beavers.


But on the complete opposite end was the Hunter's gate; it was exactly what its name implied, it was the gate that the hunters used for their hunts as it directly opened into the nearby Wolfswood.


It was calm here, as the only traffic this gate saw was in the morning when the Hunters left for the day and in the evening when they came back. In fact, the guards even considered it their break time whenever they were rotated here. There was nothing to do here except to just laze around, gossip and sometimes even take a nap.


So as usual the guards were standing on one side of the gate with their heads stuck together and were having fierce discussions about which maid was the prettiest and which one had what qualities. But suddenly out of nowhere, their lazy afternoon was interrupted by a loud piercing yell.


"STOP HER!!"


The guards were immediately scared out of their minds, thinking that they were being attacked and they instinctively stumbled for their weapons before their eyes looked up and they realised who the culprit was.


It was the youngest daughter of the Stark, a naughty brat barely tall enough to open doors. And here she was, riding on the back of that massive majestic horse, that belonged to Jon Snow, like a veteran. She had an ecstatic expression on her and was periodically looking back at her pursuer with a naughty grin as she headed straight for the gates.


"Stop her, you idiots!" Lady Stark shouted furiously at the dumbfounded guards, who hastily sprang into action as they saw her enraged face while chasing her unruly daughter.


The guards immediately ran towards the middle of the gate and stood in front of it with their hands spread apart forming a human barricade. However, the horse displayed no intention of stopping. Instead, it sped up even further scaring the shit out of them. They briefly hesitated on whether to use their weapons before they looked at each other and decided that they didn't want to be slain by Jon and simultaneously leapt out of the way, leaving the horse to easily bypass them with a quick jump.


"HaHa... Too slow, Stupid!" Arya shouted while giggling loudly before she waved her hands, "Good day, Losers!" and taunted before disappearing straight into the Wolfswood forest not far away.


The guards had funny expressions on their faces at being outwitted by a snot-nosed brat but all their amusement immediately left them as they caught sight of a fuming lady Stark coming towards them, and almost immediately they shuddered and scrambled to stand up straight and tried to put on as remorseful of an expression as they could, hoping to be gain some sympathy by the Stark Matriarch.


"Why didn't you stop her, You Idiots!" she berated the guards the moment she reached them. "And why were the gates left open at this time? Are you slacking?!"


The guards felt wronged by the questions but upon seeing the lady's eyes spitting fire they knew better than to argue back, fortunately for them someone else caught up to her and spoke up for them, "It's not their fault, Mother." Sansa said calmly, not being out of breath despite the light jog, unlike her Mother, "This gate typically remains open during the day, and the hunters must have just departed for the forest."


"Fine then," Catelyn said turning her head away from the guards who immediately felt relieved at getting spared and sneaked away at the first chance while she was looking into the forest, "What do we do now? The stupid girl went into the forest alone," she said in a mixed tone of frustration and worry, "What should I do, Sansa? Should I go after her?"


Thankfully before she could do something as foolhardy as going into the forest, Jory appeared from the direction of the stables, "Did she manage to get away?" he asked immediately after seeing their faces and the absence of someone.


"What do you think?" Lady Stark replied curtly, without taking her eyes away from the trees as if hoping that the girl would wise up and come back.


"Umm..., I'll immediately prepare a search party then," Jory said as if it was a regular thing which it was, considering the number of times the Stark children had gone into the woods, "Don't worry, My Lady, We'll easily find her," he bowed before running away towards the courtyard.


Catelyn sighed wearily. "I swear that girl is going to be the death of me. It's all because of her father and her brother; they spoil her too much. And you!" She turned to Sansa, accusingly, "Did you have to inform her that he's coming home? This all began because she wanted to go with him."


"She would have found out sooner or later anyway," Sansa shrugged nonchalantly, "And he's our brother she should know about it,"


"She doesn't have to! Look what happened because of that—" Sansa's eyes immediately narrowed making Catelyn change her words midway, "—because of Jon... And now my little girl is all alone in that forest... Oh! Crone, please guide her home safely,"


"She's not alone, Mother," Sansa said gently while rubbing her mother's back, "Peggy's with her, she wouldn't let anything hurt her,"


"P-Peggy?! Are you joking? Or am I the only one sane here? How can you even think that it would be fine to leave your only sister in a forest under a horse's care?"


Sansa knew that it wouldn't be possible to explain anything to her without making her even more hysteric so she didn't even try to reason with her about why the rest of the family was so trusting of Peggy, "Don't worry Mother, Well find her—Oh! I know! I'll go and call Becca, she always knows where to find her..."


Catelyn hesitated for just a moment at that, before she nodded her head, as she knew that the girl Becca was one of the few people who had an affinity with her daughter.


"I'll go get changed then," Sansa said, running off.


"Wait!—No! I don't want you to—" Catelyn attempted to stop her, but Sansa was already out of earshot, leaving her exasperated., "Oh! Sevens! What has happened to my sweet little girls?"


Not only Arya, even her perfect little girl didn't listen to her anymore, and Sansa had gotten fond of learning to fight and was too comfortable in breeches and bows for Catelyn's liking, "How am I supposed to find them good husbands like this? Why did this all happen?" she lamented to herself and her mind immediately supplied an answer in the form of an image of a handsome man with an evil smile making her grit her teeth.


...


"Go! Peggy! Go!" Arya said excitedly while holding on to the reins and trying to ride the horse through the sparse trees, not that she was doing much of the riding, in fact, she was doing the exact opposite of that with her wild moments, making the horse, the one who actually held the figurative reins, work even harder so that she doesn't fall off, "Let's go straight to Jon!" she shouted as if she had any idea about where he was.


The horse just rolled her eyes at the command and didn't pay it any mind as she knew that the little two-legged didn't completely comprehend what she was asking for, so Peggy decided that she would just indulge her for a while by taking her to the nearby clearing before bringing her back to her home.


It would also give Peggy some chance to enjoy some fresh air too as she had been too cooped up for quite some time inside the stables with those common horses which was almost insulting to her. And while she knew that something like this could get her punished by that mean old lady, she also knew that Jon was coming home so she thought that she wouldn't be here for much longer which meant that the mother of two-legged helpless wouldn't be able to do anything.


As for why she was here and not at Bear Island... well that had to do with Jon's consideration. Jon thought that, since he was at the sea most of the time over the past few months, Peggy would be lonely all on her own, so on his last visit to Winterfell he decided to leave her there so that his family could take care of her. Before he left, he half-jokingly told Arya that it was her responsibility to be Peggy's friend, and the young girl took this responsibility very seriously.


So from then on, whenever she could find time on her hands, Arya would run straight for the stables. She would try to feed her, water her, walk her and do everything that she could do, even if her Mother made her bathe every time she came back because she smelled of horses.


Plus, whenever something upset her or if her Mother made her really angry about something and Sansa wasn't nearby, Arya sought out Peggy as if she was her friend who would listen to her pour out all her grievances. The horse would even nod at all appropriate times as if she could understand the little girl's tirade and sympathise with her.


So, obviously, with time, the two became quite close with each other. And one day when Arya saw that no one was watching her, she decided to try something that she wanted to do for ages and hadn't been allowed to. She went near the horse and immediately jumped and tried to get on Peggy's back with all her might to ride her but alas she was far too short and couldn't reach it.


Peggy having gotten fond of the little critter finally decided to go along with it and lowered herself to help get on her back and then took her for a short ride around the stables. The small short ride was the happiest she'd been in ages. For the whole week, Arya couldn't wipe the wide grin from her face as she felt found the best hobby in the world.


So she would try and sneak into the stables every day so that she could ride Peggy to her heart's content at least until... her Mother caught her.


Obviously, there was a massive row that followed after that and from then on she was completely forbidden from the stables.


Alas, if it was so easy to control her daughter, then Lady Stark wouldn't have so many stress lines and grey hair at such a young age.


Sometimes in the early morning, sometimes while she was praying in the sept, and a few times even during the night, and the girl was very creative when it came to sneaking out to the stables giving Lady Stark and the stable master countless headaches.


No matter how many times she forbids it, her nimble daughter somehow finds a way to break Peggy out. So finally Lady Stark got fed up and threatened her that if she's caught one more time then she will free the horse into the wild and then she would never be able to see her ever again... which ultimately led to the situation today.


Peggy expertly navigated between the trees as she had been through this path many times when she used to live here with Jon so she was very familiar with this area and knew all the nooks and crannies and all the safe areas.


Not long after the trees gave away and they came out to a small beautiful clearing beside a slow-flowing river. Since it was summer the bedside was filled with all kinds of herbs and beautiful flowers making it a very good place to rest.


"Eh! Why are we stopping here, Peggy?" Arya asked with a confused look on her face as the horse came to a stop before the river and lowered herself so the young girl could get off, "Are you thirsty?" she asked while patting the pretty horse who nodded before ducking her head into the clear stream.


"Fine, then but don't take too long, alright, otherwise they'll catch up with us and find us and then we'll not be able to—" the girl suddenly screamed excitedly while jumping and pointing towards the fish, "A Fish! I saw a Fish!" and then without another thought, she lunged straight into the ice-cold water after the fish.


"HaHa... I got you—Eh? Where did it go?" she exclaimed when her hands came up empty.


Watching the little girl jump and splash in the cold water while searching for the elusive fish, Peggy sighed and shook her head tiredly at how stupid the young ones were. She knew that the lady would somehow find a way to blame her if the brat got sick so she immediately stepped into the water and gently bit Arya's nape to pull her out of the water.


"Hey! Stop it! You'll scare the fish away!" the brat screamed and flailed her arms but her struggles were futile as the horse easily lifted the child into the air and deposited her onto the shore unceremoniously, "Why did you do that? I was just about to catch that fish!" she shouted indignantly and tried to go back but Peggy blocked her way and didn't let her no matter how many times she tried.


"Fine then," Arya said while sitting on the soil and pouting, "But it would be your fault if we get hungry later because we could have been eating that fish and now we don't—" Arya abruptly stopped when the horse suddenly raised her head toward the bushes with a snarl while pushing the young girl behind her.


"W-What happened Peggy?" Arya whispered timidly, hiding behind the horse and peering at the shaking bushes with a worried expression. "Is someone there? Is it a wolf? Is it here to eat us?" she asked nervously.


The girl was scared for the first time since leaving Winterfell and now she was even rethinking her decision to leave home. She had heard all kinds of stories from her brothers over the years about all the real and mythical beasts that were said to reside in this forest and she didn't want to come across any of them, not unless she was with her Father or Jon or Robb or even Sansa.


"What are you doing? Let's run away! Quickly, get down!" Arya urged, trying to climb onto the horse, but the tension seemed to have suddenly left Peggy as she came out of her defensive position as if there was no more threat.


But the bushes hadn't stopped shaking instead the disturbance was approaching them even more quickly and then the next second a massive Shadowcat suddenly leapt out of there almost making the girl pee in her pants before she realised who it was, "Oh! It's just you, Tiger!" she said, relieved to see her brother's Shadowcat, instead of a wolf.


"Wait! No! Why are you here? Does that mean that your sister also knows," Arya rattled off, her relieved expression quickly turning to panic. "Oh! No! Peggy, We need to leave before Becca finds us," she anxiously said, rushing toward the horse. However, Peggy didn't seem to be paying attention; instead, she stared into the trees and then suddenly out of nowhere she dashed straight into the forest in the opposite direction of Winterfell.


"No! Don't leave me here," Arya screamed after the horse but Peggy didn't look back even once leaving the kid feeling betrayed, "Come Back!"


"Argh! Stupid Horse! What do I do now? How will I go to Jon now? Mother will kill me if she catches me!" she mumbled to herself frustratedly while pacing back and forth when her eyes caught something out of the corner of her eyes and almost immediately a bright candle lit up in her mind.


"Tiger! Oh, Tiger! I haven't seen you in a while, You've gotten so big," Arya said with a creepy smile as she slowly approached the Shadowcat, "You must be so fast now, huh? Can you help me, Tiger? Don't worry, it won't bother you too much."


Tiger watched with amused eyes as the girl approached him cautiously as if he was a street cat, "You just stay still and it'll be fine I won't hurt you, I am just going to—" and then she lunged straight for the beast's back but he wasn't a Shadowcat for nothing as he nimbly dodged the girl denying her the right to climb atop him and ride him.


"No! Come back!" Arya screamed and went at it again... and again... and again...


It seemed to have turned into a game of tag with the girl running and jumping all over the place trying to catch Tiger who always moved at the last moment as if taunting her. And if she got tired every once in a while, the playful Shadowcat approached her real close tempting her and starting all over... and the girl fell for his bait every single time.


And that is how Becca and Sansa, found her, rolling around in the mud wrestling with a Shadowcat in the middle of the forest with no care in the world. Arya's hair and her clothes were not only wet she also had mud and grass sticking all over her making her look like something straight out of Lady Stark's nightmare.


The girls exchanged helpless glances with each other as they could almost imagine all the shouting and screaming that would resound through the Winterfell tonight when they went back home.


Tiger's sister, the other Shadowcat, stood beside Becca and seemed eager to join in the fun game before Becca put a restraining hand on her while Sansa went towards her sister, "Arya! Stop!"


"Eh?" Arya turned her head and her eyes comically widened the moment she caught sight of her sister, "Oh! No! Why are you here?" she screamed and immediately tried to bolt but Sansa seemed to have been waiting for that and nimbly lunged and caught her in a death grip, "No! Leave me! I don't want to go back!"


It took quite a while and a whole lot of screaming and struggling before they managed to calm her down.


"Look at how dirty you've gotten, Arya," Sansa said while gently patting her sniffing sister all over her clothes and her face to try and remove as much dirt and mud as she could. She wanted Arya to at least look like a human so that her Mother didn't immediately have a heart attack, "You know how angry Mother will be when she finds out that you've ruined the pretty dress she brought for you,"


"I don't care! I hate her," Arya said, puffing up her cheeks and turning her head away in anger.


"You don't hate her," Sansa replied calmly, while gently pulling her cute sister's cheeks "You just don't like it when she makes you do stitches and wear dresses,"


"I'll just go find, Jon and then I'll go with him and then she won't be able to order me around,"


"Speaking of which, Where's Peggy?" Sansa said while looking around the clearing in confusion.


"That stupid horse betrayed me and ran away," Arya said with a huff, "I'll complain to Jon and have him punish her when he comes back, Humph!"


"Really? She left you here? All alone!" Sansa asked incredulously, while looking towards Becca who was similarly bewildered with the situation.


"I wasn't alone! Tiger was with me!" she said defensively.


"But that doesn't make sense! There's no way she would leave you here alone! How would she know—Unless!" Sansa eye's suddenly widened as she realised something and at that exact moment a very familiar voice came from the trees behind them.


"Well well well!" All three heads turned toward the source of the voice, where they saw the white horse emerging from the trees, carrying their most favourite person in the world. "Quite the welcome party, isn't it?"

 

[LazyWizard]

"JON?!!"

The moment the trio of delighted girlish screams echoed in the surroundings, Jon immediately dismounted from Peggy in one swift and prepared himself with his arms open and he wasn't a second late as in the next one his torso was suddenly hit with a duo of small missiles one red and one brown.

*Uffff!!*

Jon grunted with an amusingly overdramatic expression of pain and said, "Ugh! I think you girls just broke one of my ribs..."

"LIAR!!" Both of them shouted simultaneously with wide grins, hugging him even harder.

"No! Seriously!" Jon continued with a warm smile, rubbing their heads, "You girls have gotten too heavy now... I may just have to visit Maester Luwin for a look."

Arya giggled loudly, but Sansa asked with a cute tilt of her face, "But Jon, I thought that you wouldn't be home for another two days... How come you're early?"

"Oh that was just a coincidence," Jon answered with a shrug, "There was a ship going for Torrhen's square, so I hopped on it instead of taking the usual route from Bear Island through the forests. It turns out that travelling by sea cut a surprising amount of time, so I was able to come home quicker." He caught the third occupant in the clearing who had been silently watching so far. "No hug from you, Becca?" he teased. "Your teacher's very sad..."

"I think you would have broken more than just a rib if I jumped towards you like these little ones..." Becca replied with an eye roll while giving him a one-handed hug.

"Hmm, You're right about that... You've grown up quite a lot since I saw last you," Jon said while putting a hand on her head to measure their height difference, which was no more than a few inches. "If you keep this up... It won't be long until you reach my height."

His once naughty little student who always used to run away from Maths had grown up quite well. She looked like a mature warrior now standing there with a tight bun, a strong leather jacket and breeches, and a spear by her side that spoke of the hours she spent in the training yard honing the skills he had laid the foundation for at a young age.

"Ah! That'll be the sight..." Becca replied with a wistful expression on her face at the thought of being taller than him, as it was quite irritating to be looked down upon by Jon who was six years her junior.

"ME! ME! What about me, Jon?" Arya questioned, jumping up and down excitedly while pulling his hands, "I grew up too, didn't I?" Didn't I?" she asked with a proud grin while subtly standing on her toes and raising her head to make herself a little taller.

"Hmm, Let's see..." Jon said, with a pondering expression on his face while looking at Arya. He maintained his appraising eye for a moment before he shook his head with an overly disappointed expression, "Tsk! Tsk! Tsk! I am sorry, little sister, but sadly you haven't grown a single inch... In fact didn't you actually shrink instead? I think Bran might actually be taller than you now..." he turned to Sansa who was also trying to hide her smile and seriously asked, "Tell me, Sansa, is bran taller than—" he didn't get to finish his sentence as his teasing was too much for the little girl and she punched him in the gut with all her might.

"He's Not!" Arya replied hotly, her face turning comically red almost like a tomato.

"Argh! I think you just broke another rib, little sister," Jon said with a grimace before he staggered and kneeled, giving a convincing performance. The little critter packed a surprisingly strong punch.

"Don't lie, You LIAR!!"

It seems that his acting wasn't enough for the little girl as she showed him no mercy, and immediately started hammering him with her little fists as if he was a drum. Each hit of hers was accompanied by a loud shout of "Liar!!". Becca and Sansa snickered from afar at watching Jon crouching while hiding his head from Arya's furious barrage.

"Stop! Stop! I am sorry!" Jon apologised and when Arya showed no signs of relenting, he finally gathered her swinging arms by her side and picked the struggling girl up, "I was wrong, little sister. Please forgive me!" he said with a pleading face.

"No!" she snorted while turning her head away with a pout, "I hate you!"

"Oh! No! Do you really hate your brother, Arya," Jon asked in a sad tone.

His puppy dog eyes made her hesitate just for a moment but she still persisted with her reply, "Y-Yes, I do!"

Anyone else in their family would have been hard-pressed by the girl's stubbornness but Jon knew just what to say to persuade her.

"That is very unfortunate then... since that means that you wouldn't want all the gifts that I got for you, so they would go to waste..." Jon said sadly before he suddenly said in a sly, "Maybe I'll see if Bran wants them—"

"NO!" Arya screamed as he head whipped around in panic, "Don't give them to Bran! I'll take them! Where are they?" she asked, her eyes wildly looking around.

"So you don't hate me, then?" Jon asked with an amused expression.

"No, I don't," she quickly shook her head like a rattle, "I love you, Jon, you're the best," she said with a wide grin while giving him a quick hug, "Now, where are they? I want them?"

"They are right there," Jon said while pointing towards the two sacks on Peggy's back. Arya immediately struggled while extending her hands towards them, but Jon stopped her. "But you can't open them now, you need to wait until I get you home..."

"Why? I want to see them now!"

"Because if we don't get you home to your mother soon... I think she's finally going to lose whatever little patience she had with me and decide that it is time to bring out her dagger to welcome me at the gate..." Jon said, his eyes going comically wide with horror.

"No! But I don't want to go home," Arya said in a pleading tone, "That's why I left... I want to go with you and travel here and there..."

Jon knew better than to deny her with something logical, like that she was too young or that it would be too dangerous for her or that her mother would probably send an army after him if he did that... instead he decided to give her an offer that he knew she couldn't refuse.

"Tell me, little sister," Jon said while sneaking a wink towards his Shadowcat, "Was my Tiger here very rude to you before I came here?"

"Yes! Yes, he was," Arya nodded her head like a chicken as she suddenly remembered the tussle she had with the cat a while back, "He ran away from me and didn't even let me ride him even though I am so small... he is a bad tiger, Jon. You need to punish him," she said while giving a prideful grin at tiger who just rolled his eyes.

"So, How about this? If you agree to come home with me, I'll punish Tiger by making him give you a ride all the way until the forest ends," he said while sending a look towards Tiger that promised him future rewards if she complied with his little request. The Tiger shook his head with an exasperated sigh, but he stood up nonetheless.

"Really! I can really ride him,"

"Yes, you can... You'll be the first girl in the whole world to have ridden a Shadowcat,"

"I want to! I want to! let's go! let's go home," she shouted excitedly, her Mother having completely left her mind.

...

"... And that was how Queen Nymeria led her surviving people on Ten Thousand Ships across the narrow sea to Westeros during the Spice War..." Jon finished in a soothing tone, barely above a whisper. He closed the book that he was reading from, it was one of his gifts that he had bought from Oldtown.

Jon was sitting on a small chair between two small beds, the same that he and Robb used to occupy when they were little. But at the moment they were being used by the next wolves, with Bran on the left side, who had already gone to sleep at the start of the story reading, and Arya on the right side.

Jon slowly tiptoed to Arya's bedside and closely looked at her face suspiciously for a few seconds checking to see if she'd squirm and give herself away but thankfully nothing like that happened as it seemed the little wolf had finally gone to sleep.

"I think she's already asleep..." a whisper came from behind him, and Jon turned around to find his other student, Emilia, standing against the door with an amused smile on her face. Jon waved his hand at her to keep quiet before slowly lurking towards the door.

"Well, she's already faked it two times before, so I just had to be sure..." Jon said in a hushed voice while closing the door behind him.

The little girl hadn't left his side since the moment he had set foot inside Winterfell. She knew that she did wrong by running away and making her parents worry and that she would surely be scolded and punished for it, especially by her mother, so she stuck by him for the whole time... probably hoping to use him as a shield.

This seems to have worked for the moment as the moment she laid eyes on him, all of Lady Stark's displeasure and her scrutinizing glares had been automatically transferred to him.

And even when she occasionally caught sight of Arya, she didn't do anything more than send a few glares at her that promised future scolding. Because if there was one thing in the world that Catelyn hated more than anything... then it was when she lost her temper, especially in front of Jon.

Jon guessed that it was probably a trauma from all his childhood pranks.

"You're quite scared of her, Aren't you?" Emilia asked with a smile when she saw him being so careful to not wake up the little critter.

"Terrified!" Jon said with a fake shudder before he grinned widely and asked her, "Now tell me, How are you doing, little Emy? How is life as the Lady Stark's assistant treating you?" he hadn't been able to talk her too much with her when they met at the gates before, because he was too busy greeting his family.

"There's no such thing as an "assistant"," Emilia said with air quotes, a habit she'd picked up from him, "I am more of a helper... most of the time I just follow her around and help her as she goes about doing all the tasks that she has to do to manage the castle. For the rest, I am mostly babysitting your sisters, and teaching them their number, stitching and most recently... about the Faith," she glared at him at that last bit as if it was his fault, "While there's nothing exciting about it... I get to learn a lot so I am quite happy with it..."

"No! No! I am not asking you about those mundane things," Jon said shaking his head with gleaming eyes, "I am asking you if there were any embarrassing stuff that you found out about her... like if she ever tripped absentmindedly, or if she ever picked her nose when she thought no one was looking, or if she ever stole treats from the kitchen... you know, all the juicy details, things I can use against her," he finished with a villainous giggle.

"There are no such things," she replied while looking at him with an exasperated expression, "And even if there were, I wouldn't tell you..."

"What? Why?!" Jon asked with an overdramatic betrayed expression.

"Well... because I like her... and I think she's quite fond of me too..." Emily shrugged with a small smile, "We spend most of the day together, and she teaches me all kinds of things and she even takes me with her when she goes to pray in the Sept... which is quite soothing, in fact, I think I've taken quite a liking to the Seven pointed star and the Faith because of her..."

"Y-You! You Traitor!" Jon breathed with an exaggerated shocked expression, "Here I thought that I finally got my spy beside her, but it turns out that the Evil Southern Lady was just too smart for you," he looked at her with a disappointed expression, "I don't know how she managed to enthral you to her side but... I expected more from you, my student..."

"Yeah right!" Emilia nodded her head sarcastically, "I have already been charmed by her, but don't worry too much, I'll try my best not to spill too many of your secrets..."

"You shouldn't and remember the most important thing is..." Jon said while grabbing her shoulders with a serious expression, "Whatever you do, don't let her turn you into a septa..."

Emilia rolled her eyes but still nodded her head, "I won't, I promise..."

"Thank you..." Jon sighed in relief, "And also please don't pick any of her bad habits, particularly the one where she makes that expression, you know, the one when she scrunches up her nose and her mouth curls up as if she smelled something funny," he helpfully accompanied his explanation by making a face as similar to pig as he could.

"Pfft... and then you wonder why she hates you so much," Emiia snorted while shaking her head with a small smile.

"HeHe..." Jon smiled before he suddenly remembered someone he had forgotten about until now, "Oh! That reminds me, How is our other resident Southerner doing?"

"Who? Oh! You're talking about Sam!" Emily said and continued after he nodded, "To be honest I don't know much about him since, most of the time he's either in the Library reading a book or with Maester Luwin in his tower, either helping him or asking him questions, I think the Old Maester is quite delighted to have some company, so he's should be doing fine for the most part..."

"What do you mean "for the most part" ?"

"Didn't you place some kind of restriction on him before you left him here? You know, about how he needs to spend about half the time that he reads in the library, training in the courtyard..."

"Ah! I did do something that..." Jon said with an enlightened expression, he remembered that when he had seen the ecstatic expression on Sam's face at the sight of Winterfell's Library, he knew that if it was left to him he would spend all his time in there so he had placed that restriction on him to help him with his abysmal body as well as his martial skill, hoping that the lure of books will at least make him try.

"Well, the boy was quite half-hearted and slacked a lot when he first joined the courtyard at least until... Becca caught sight of him during her training, and she was absolutely flabbergasted at seeing him blundering around like that, so she decided to take him under her wing and made sure that his form was correct and he was not just going through the motions..."

"Something like that happened...huh," Jon said with a weird expression, "To be honest... I had just been hoping for him to get into the habit of regularly using his body... so this quite the happy coincidence,"

"Yeah... while I am sure he's quite miserable under her, he's also a lot healthier than before," Emily nodded slightly, "In fact, even though it hasn't been that long, Becca told me that he has gotten quite good with an axe..."

"Is that so..." Jon murmured with narrowed eyes, he was wondering if the boy was already ready to accompany him on his adventure. Because he could definitely use someone, who could read and write and someone who had gotten the basic noble education, for his future plans in the Esoos.

"Oh! No! I completely forgot!" Emilia suddenly exclaimed with a panicked expression, "You need to go to the Lord's Solar, Quickly!"

"Huh? What?"

"Lord Stark asked me to call but it completely skipped my mind because of all your questions," Emily said while hastily pushing him towards the stairs, "Now, quickly go! They are waiting for you,"

'Who's they?" Jon wondered while going towards the stairs leading towards his father's solar.

///

 

[LazyWizard]

"...And because of that, not only has our supply finally been able to catch up with the demand but this stable period has also given us time to place the foundation for new factories so that we can always be ready for any sudden demands in the future." Jon overheard Robb say before opening the door to the Lord's solar.


"That's excellent news, Robb. It should prove beneficial for us in the—Jon!" Eddard interrupted mid-sentence, looking up with a warm expression as he caught sight of Jon entering the room. "You're finally here."


"Apologies for being late, Father," Jon said, smiling apologetically while closing the door behind him.


Eddard sat comfortably behind his desk which was heavily laden with neatly placed documents. There were three chairs placed in front of the said desk, of which two were already occupied by Robb and, of course, Catelyn, whose face barely even twitched at Jon calling Eddard, 'father'.


"Don't worry, Jon, we haven't started yet," Robb said, vacating his chair for Jon and taking the middle one as a buffer between Jon and Catelyn. "I was just updating Father on the status of the factories."


"...And as a result, not only has our supply finally met the demand, but this period of stability has also allowed us to lay the foundation for new factories. Now, we can be promptly prepared for any sudden demands in the future," Jon overheard Robb say before opening the door to the Lord's solar.


"That's excellent news, Robb. It should prove beneficial for us in the—Jon!" Eddard interrupted mid-sentence, looking up with a warm expression as he caught sight of Jon entering the room. "You're finally here."


"Apologies for being late, Father," Jon said, smiling apologetically while closing the door behind him.


Eddard sat comfortably behind his desk, neatly arranging documents. Three chairs were in front of the desk, with two already occupied by Robb and, of course, Catelyn. She didn't seem bothered by Jon calling Eddard 'father.'


"Don't worry, Jon, we haven't started yet," Robb said, vacating his chair for Jon and taking the middle one as a buffer between Jon and Catelyn. "I was just updating Father on the status of the factories."


"Thank you," Jon nodded towards Robb before taking a seat. Turning to his brother to ask something, he noticed Catelyn, who hadn't moved her head since he entered he decided to greet her, "Lady Stark, I didn't get to see you before... How are you doing?" he asked with an overly bright expression.


Catelyn's eyebrows twitched but instead of giving her usual replies she held it in and cooly replied, "I am fine,"


If it was just a few years before, it would be completely natural for Lady Stark to be short with Jon. After all, she was the Lady of the house, while he was the bastard of her husband, who lived with them and whom he refused to kick out no matter how many times she told him to.


But about two years ago something happened... something that made their relationship suddenly go from an extreme end to a neutral one very quickly, and even almost touching cordial for a while...


And, the simple reason for that was— Lord Stark's decision to leave Jon behind at Bear Island for an indefinite period.


Jon had heard it from very credible resources that Lady Stark had almost squealed like a little girl when she heard that her husband had finally decided to fulfil her most ardent wish.


She was on the clouds for a whole week after hearing that news... she smiled every time she greeted someone, and there was a subtle skip in her steps, and even when she caught Arya doing her usual naughtiness instead of scolding her, she just fondly rubbed her head... which scared the little girl more than anything.


It seemed as if a massive weight had been lifted up from her shoulders... all her fears about Jon one day usurping her children, all her resentment when she felt like an outsider every time her family took his side instead of hers, all her insecurities about Jon looking more and more like his father as he grew up ... all of them just went up in smoke instantly as if they were nothing more than illusions in the first place.


And she was so happy with the decision that she didn't even mind Jon's occasional visits, in fact, she even somewhat welcomed them after seeing how happy they made her children. She thought that it would be alright as long as he grew up to be someone like Benjen in the future... a very close family member but one who only visits them a few times a year.


So over the past few years, their relationship started improving at a slow but steady pace. Starting from occasional greetings to short but cordial conversations, neither of them snapped at each other anymore or constantly found things about each other to ridicule to get the upper hand and it got so good to the point that one time she actually... smiled at him. *Shudder*


Jon swore countless times that it was the truth, even though none of his siblings actually believed him.


It had happened during one of his previous visits. As usual, he had brought various gifts for his siblings and friends, but this time, on a sudden whim, he decided to get one for Catelyn too (which he had never done before, thinking that she would just chuck it back at his face).


So with trepidation in his heart, he gave it to her after making sure that she was all alone (since he didn't want an audience in case something embarrassing happened). After she got over her shock at suddenly receiving the gift, she sceptically looked at Jon and carefully opened it and... immediately gasped, as she was simply amazed by the sheer beauty of the soft dress that came out of the packet. Jon had bought her the very best that the markets of Reach could offer which left her so pleased that she involuntarily gave him a heartfelt smile and thanked him.


That incident left him stunned (and scarred,) for a whole week, his mind constantly wondering if it was just a delusion he had conjured.


Anyway, coming back to the situation at hand... The obvious question at the moment was that, if their relationship had gotten so good recently then what was the reason that she was being so cold to him? What had he done to make her angry at him once again?


And the answer to that was...


"It's good that you're fine..." Jon replied before curiously asking, "But what about Septa Mordane... I didn't get to see her too, is she—"


"Shut up!" Lady Stark abruptly snapped, as if he had touched a sore spot. Her eyes spat fire, and her indifference turned to anger in a millisecond. "As if you don't know—as if it wasn't because of you—"


"Huh? What are you talking about?" Jon asked with a completely innocent expression, while his brother tried to calm his mother.


"You really don't know?" Robb asked sceptically as he too wasn't completely buying his brother's innocent act, but Jon still shook his head ignorantly, prompting Robb to explain, "Septa Mordane isn't here anymore... She had been banished from the North,"


"What? Why?"


"Umm..." Robb took a quick glance at his mother before speaking, "It seems that the Septa Mordane was scared that she would be kicked out of Winterfell before long, so... she stole a few pieces of jewellery from here and there probably hoping to have a cushion for her future..."


Jon didn't know if this was something that had also happened in the original timeline and she just wasn't caught or if this had only happened here because the Septa was under so much pressure because of him, (instead of it being the other way around in the cannon). Anyway, the moment he had caught a whiff of her naughtiness Jon had sent her straight towards the trap.


"Oh!" Jon exclaimed, wide-eyed as if he genuinely didn't know, as if he had nothing to do with it. However, it would be hard for anyone who knew him to believe that something like this could happen in his own home without him knowing, "But how is that related to me? After all, I wasn't even here at that time, How could I—"


"How dare you say that! She did all that because of you! If you hadn't been so—" Catelyn almost screeched at Jon in her anger. It seemed that losing Septa who was almost like a friend to the woman was too much for her, and her instincts were screaming at her that the boy was definitely behind it after all, he was after the poor septa from the start.


"Enough!" Eddard said sternly in a low voice, stalling the argument before it could go any further, "What is done is done, and talking about it wouldn't change anything."


"But—" Catelyn wasn't satisfied with not getting her way yet and wanted to get to the bottom of things and for Jon to admit that he was behind her getting caught, after all, it can't just be a coincidence that the maids just happen to gossip about the jewellery going missing (something that Catelyn had been trying to suppress) and Eddard happening to walk by.


"I said enough, Catelyn! The Septa confessed to it herself so it doesn't matter what her reasons were..." Eddard was honestly quite relieved when he found a reason to kick the Septa out of Winterfell as he wasn't too fond of her and didn't particularly like the way she taught his children, but he didn't want to antagonise his wife so he kept her employed, "I merely banished her on your plea for mercy so we should leave it at that and forget about it..."


"Humph" Catelyn knew better than to argue against her husband when he got like that, so she kept her mouth shut even though she was dissatisfied with it.


"Now we got sidetracked enough already so let's get back to the reason as to why I called you here," Eddard said with a serious expression and continued after making sure that they were paying him attention, "Which is this," he pointed towards the thick open book on the desk in front of him.


Jon and Robb took only a moment to recognise what it was, "Isn't that the..."


"Yes, this is the book that contains the finances and accounts over the past decade of not only Winterfell but also the whole North and this..." he turned the book around so that all three of them were able to see it and then his finger pointed towards the page end, "this is the pure profit that we've accumulated over the past year according to the last count by the Maester..."


"Oh! My!" "Sevens!" "Really! This much!!"


All three of them had varying levels of shocked expressions on their faces at seeing the amount written there, though Jon's was a bit more subdued as most of the money had passed his hands before reaching here, so he had already expected something like this to happen.


"Yes," Eddard nodded with a small smile, "I was similarly shocked when I first laid my eyes on it... This is the most profitable year the North has ever seen in not only this decade but this whole century, according to Maester Luwin. And this amount is the one that was calculated after deducting all our expenses, such as our management ones and the taxes to the crown," he emphasised as if afraid that they wouldn't understand what pure profit means, which turned out to be true for someone as Jon saw Catelyn's eyes widen even further from the corner of his eyes, "And this number has been increasing with each passing month and would continue to do so if nothing goes wrong... And the reason behind this is very obvious," He directed his heavy gaze towards his son.


"Jon... I knew that you were a smart kid from the very start, but... even I never expected you to do so much. What you've accomplished in just a few years for the people on the West Coast and even the whole of the North is nothing short of miraculous... I don't think anyone else, not even an adult, would have achieved what you've been able to."


"Thank You, Father," Jon replied with a humble but pleased smile on his face as Robb patted his back proudly.


"And Robb," Eddard turned to Robb next, making him immediately straighten up nervously. "Maester Luwin and I have been keeping a close eye on your work with the factory... And I can proudly say that we've both been completely satisfied with it, You've outdone our expectations time and again. And I can sleep soundly knowing that you're my heir and that Winterfell and the North would be left in very good hands."


"I didn't do that much," Robb replied with a small blush while Lady Stark looked at him with a proud smile and Jon rubbed his head with a fond grin.


*Cough*


"... Anyway, coming back to this," Eddard brought their attention back to the book in front of them, "Every time there have been any excess profits in the past, all previous Lords Starks have mostly done the same with it... That is buying food to stock up and prepare for Winter. But our food stores are already being filled at an unprecedented rate, mostly due to the trade with Reach making food unreasonably cheap. This means that even without any special help from this money, our stocks are estimated to be fuller than ever before so that we will be comfortable even if the Winter lasts a long time."


Eddard continued after seeing all three of them nod, "Now if it was before, I would have simply deposited this money into our vault with the rest of our reserves and forgotten about it until there comes a time when we urgently need it, but... I suddenly remembered something Jon said to me a few years and it made me reconsider my choice." he turned towards Jon who looked as if he had no idea what he was talking about, " 'You're losing money, if your money is not working for you,' that is what you said," Jon's eyes widened with enlightenment as he suddenly remembered that particular conversation where he had explained to Eddard why he always reinvented most of the profits in new and different ventures, "So I need you three to think carefully and give any thoughts and ideas that you have about how we can use this amount in a way that would not only benefit the Starks but the North as a whole, now and in the future..."


The three of them immediately fell silent, chewing over their thoughts, trying to come up with ideas while Lord Stark brought out an empty piece of paper so that he could write down any idea that he liked.


Not long after, Robb became the first one to put forward his thoughts, "Um... Father, How about Moat Callin? We could repair it to its former glory... After all, It's been left in disrepair for too long,"


Eddard shook his head with an amused smile at that, "That is the very first thought that comes to every Stark Lord's mind since the Conquest whenever they get their hands on a little amount of money... Sadly, because of some very glaring reasons, they have always been forced to abandon it before even starting."


"Eh? What are these reasons? I mean other than money..."


"You're right, money was always the most important reason that it never went past conception, but the second one was that repairing it would mean that we would have to man it in the future. Which would immediately send a signal to every single Lord in Westeros... A signal that the North is getting ready for a fight—And we don't want that, Do we?" Robb immediately shook his head at that and Eddard continued explaining calmly, "In addition, it is an absurdly massive piece of Architecture and would take a ridiculous amount of people more than just a few years to even put a dent in it.


"Not to mention if Winter arrived mid-way through and we were forced to stop construction, then it would be the same as throwing money away. Plus it's not a place that sees much use outside of war and what we have at the moment is already sufficient for small ones, so repairing it isn't very feasible at the moment." Robb humbly nodded his head, accepting his father's rejection and then went back to thinking of other solutions.


Jon was the next one to present his idea, "What about the roads, Father," he said presenting the very staple thing a lord should do when he thinking of improving his realm, "It would not only make travel and trade a lot easier and faster, investing in roads would also be a massive boost to the North's Economy for a long time in the future."


"Hmm... It is a good one and also one of the ideas that Maester Luwin presented to me, but..." Eddard sighed and shook his head, "It is also not feasible for the same reason as before... North is too vast and laying down roads is a massive undertaking that would take years and years of summer, and they wouldn't be of much use if they are not completed before Winter, so—"


"But Father, What if we don't create new ones?" Jon interrupted Eddard with a smile on his face, "What if instead of laying new ones, we supply our manpower into repairing and improving the existing ones, which should not take more than a few years of dedicated work? Even if we are only able to bring up the quality of our existing roads, including the Kingsroad, to the level of the other kingdoms in Westeros, it would be a massive boon..."


"That's right, Father," Robb eagerly nodded his head supporting his brother's idea, "Not only would it have a lot of direct benefits for trade in the North, but it would also indirectly help our smallfolks by creating many jobs, which are especially needed now more than ever before... And it would greatly improve the time it takes for us to gather our forces which has always been a massive weakness of the North,"


Eddard closed his eyes and thought long and hard about whether this would be feasible. After a few minutes he opened his eyes and took a deep breath before nodding his head, "It sounds doable. I would have Maester Luwin start drawing the outline for it the very next day, if we work fast then a team could be ready by the week's end to survey and scout the best possible location to start..." he mumbled to himself while jotting down on the paper in front of him before looking up.


"That was a very good idea, son." Eddard praised Jon who gave a pleased smile before he continued speaking, "Now, Jon, even with this undertaking, it would take a long time before our money came into use, so I was thinking about investing in our business in the East. You're leaving for Bravoos soon, right? So do you think, it is time for us to expand further?" If there was one thing, Eddard had learned over the years then it was that there was no safer and more lucrative investment than any business Jon has his hands in.


"That is a wonderful idea, Father," Robb said in an excited tone, "If we are able to increase the reach of our sailors in the East and open up new markets and tap into not only Essosi cities such as Lys, Pentos but also the remaining Westerosi cities such as Kings landing, Gulltown and other, that we haven't accessed yet then it would mean a huge growth for our business."


"That was what I had in mind as well," Eddard said with a nod before turning to Jon, "So how about it? Do you think it is time?"


Jon had been very hesitant to enter the Eastern cities such as Kings Landing, Gull Town and Pentos for two very obvious reasons(One tall and slimy, the other short and fat). But, perhaps it is time to start—Not directly, but maybe through a proxy, "I think that we should divide this problem into two, Father... I will handle the Essos side of things and I don't have any money at the moment since I have an idea of how to procure it (An idea involving a tentacles monster that was currently moving through the depths to the other side of Westeros,) and as for the remaining Westerosi cities, I think it is time for us to let go..."


"Let go?" Robb asked in a confused tone before he saw his brother's eyes and caught up to what Jon was implying, "You mean to open up? But..."


"Don't worry, it won't affect our profits too much instead... it may even increase if we are careful with it," Jon reassured Robb before turning towards to Eddard with an expectant look on his face.


"Hmm... If you think so then I'll write a letter to Lord Manderly so that he knows to expect you soon...I am sure he'll be quite happy with the news."


Catelyn had no idea what in the Sevens these three were talking about with all this vague talk, but she had too much pride to directly ask, especially in front of 'him'... But still, not wanting to be the only one who didn't put forth anything useful, Catelyn said the first thing that came to her mind, "W-What about the Wall?"


Three heads simultaneously turned towards her as she continued, "Benjen always says that the Wall is very poor and that it is always in need of supplies, right? How about sending some aid to them... It would also look good in front of the other Northern Lords," she finished with a hopeful look.


"That is not a bad idea, Catelyn, but..." Eddard said to his wife while glancing towards Jon, "But something regarding just that had been in the works for a while now,"


"Huh? What do you mean?"


"Jon had already been in talks with Lord Commander Mormont, with the help of his niece Lady Mormont. Since Bear Islands has already become somewhat of a trade hub and is also one of the closest castles to the Wall. We thought that if we are able to open Westwatch-by-the-Bridge, one of the abandoned castles west of Shadow Tower and one that is closest to the sea, then it would be very easy to carry the supplies directly to the Wall from the Sea,"


"So did the Lord Commander agree to it then?" Robb asked curiously.


"Yes, he was very happy to do it as it would help the watch more than anything," Eddard said with a smile, remembering the enthusiastic letter he had gotten from the Commander of the Watch, "He is trying his hardest to make sure that it is up and running by the year-end by which time regular shipment should start sailing from the Bear Island to the Watch."


Catelyn was disappointed that her idea didn't pan out but at least she wasn't completely useless—


"Too bad, Lady Stark," Jon said in an innocent tone, "Better luck next time..."


"You—"


Eddard sighed as the bickering started in front of him once again with Robb trying and failing to mediate between them. If there was one thing he didn't miss about Jon not living in Winterfell anymore, then it was this...

 

[LazyWizard]

The bright rays of the morning sun merrily shone through the small window of Jon's room, making him aware that his plan of leaving before the first light had already failed. Knowing that it may be a while until they see him again, his siblings hadn't let him leave until very late into the night, which resulted in him not being able to wake up at his intended time since there were no alarm clocks in this world. It wasn't too bad though as the warmth of his brothers and sisters made the few extra hours in the sun more than worth it.


Jon was kneeling on the floor beside his bed with a small leather backpack in front of him, doing some last-minute packing. He had always had the habit of packing light since his first trip and only ever carried the essentials with him, things such as a few pairs of clothes, a cooking pan, some salt, a water pouch, some knives, and most importantly a handmade hard soap.


Even with all its magic, this was still a relatively primitive world, so people needed to plan a lot of things in advance before travelling anywhere if they valued their lives. They always need to make sure that the path they are taking is a well-trodden one, that there's always a source of water such as a flowing river nearby, and to avoid forests as much as they can even if it takes them longer if they don't want to run into predators or worse... bandits.


Thankfully, one of the best perks of being a warg was that Jon never needed to worry about any of those things. He never had to stress about getting lost no matter how deep inside the forest he was, and he never gave a second thought before taking untrodden shortcuts. And even if there were no sources of clear water in his vicinity, he had no need to panic as his trusty friend, Frost, could travel miles of distance to any stream in a matter of minutes and fill his water pouch for him.


He didn't even need to mention food. From the moment that he was barely more than a toddler, there hadn't been a single instance when Jon hadn't been able to find a game. Even if there was only a single alive animal in a forest, it was going to be on his dinner plate no matter how fast it ran.


So as a lone wolf, he didn't need a lot of things after his basic necessities of food, and water had been met.


Just as Jon was closing the final straps on his bag, he heard a knock behind him, "Come in!" he shouted while turning his head around to see Sam entering his room while carrying a not-so-small sack in his arms.


"What is that?" Jon asked with wide eyes while pointing towards the leather sack.


"Huh? Didn't you ask me to bring some warm bread from the kitchen?" Sam answered with a confused tilt of his head.


"I did." Jon slowly nodded his head, "But that can't all be just bread, Could it?" he said while sceptically looking at the sack that was almost spilling out of his hands.


"Of course not," Sam answered proudly while placing the sack beside two similarly packed bags that contained his stuff, "There are other necessary things such as spices, herbs, some vegetables, a pot—"


"Wait, a Pot? But why? I already got a pan in here..."


"How can that be? They're completely different things," he shook his head as if he was disappointed with Jon, "The taste completely changes depending on how you cook it and what you use to cook so we definitely need both of them for different things," he said as if he was explaining something extremely simple.


Jon shook his head helplessly at that as it seemed that the chubby kid was still a foodie even though he wasn't so chubby anymore.


Months of regulated diet, regular exercises and sparring, had quite a profound effect on the boy. His face had lost most of its plumpness, his stomach also shrank a lot and while he may still be in a phase which people here considered to be fat, there was now a firm layer of muscles underneath that fat.


"And pray tell how exactly are you going carry all of them? Because I can tell you right now, you will get no help from me..."


"Huh? What do you mean?" Sam asked while scratching his head in confusion, "Aren't we going on horses?"


"We are. But not all the way, there will obviously be times when we will need to carry our own stuff," Jon explained with an amused expression, "So choose. Which is more important, your legs or satisfying your tongue?"


A pained expression appeared on Sam's face as he agonised over the dilemma placed in front of him. It took quite a while for him to choose between the two equally valuable things but eventually, he raised his head, "I-I will do it," he said while putting on a brave face as if about to infiltrate a castle alone.


"Fine. Do as you wish," Jon said with an amused smile before a sudden realization crossed his mind. "But, leave that axe here," he pointed towards the axe on the boy's back, "I don't think you'll be needing that anymore..."


"What? Why?" Sam asked in a bewildered tone, his hand instinctively going towards the worn-out handle of the axe that had been his constant companion for months, "I-I know that I am not very good with it and that I am still very weak... but I-I swear I am trying very hard and I-I know that I'll get better soon, so please—"


"Ah! I think you're misunderstanding something here," Jon replied with a raised eyebrow while looking at Sam's flustered expression, "I am not asking you to give up your weapon... I am telling you to let go of that old one since you'll be getting a new one."


After all, how could he ask him to give up his axe? Considering the amount of work it had taken for him to go from being deathly scared of that weapon to becoming fond of it.


Jon could still remember the time during their journey to Winterfell when he had tried to teach Sam the art of fighting and killing... and it safe to say, that it was a complete disaster. The boy was so scared of weapons that it was almost absurd... he would start shuddering uncontrollably even if someone with a dagger just stood still in front of him. Shivering, shaking hands, flinching, stumbling back, crying, screaming, cowering, you could think of any adjective that would describe a coward and it would apply to him.


After fruitlessly trying for a few more days, Jon could understand Lord Tarly's frustration with his son, and somewhat empathised with him... just a little bit though. But Jon didn't give up just yet and decided that if conventional methods didn't work for Sam, he would try unconventional ones.


Over the course of a few days, Jon concluded that Sam's mind and his habit of overthinking were his greatest enemies. The first thing he needed to do was take it away from him. So he devised a simple routine for Sam with the main goal of completely draining his mind so that he wouldn't even have an iota of it left to think, let alone be scared.


The routine went something like this...


Instead of the usual exercise of this world that mostly involved sparring and swinging weapons. Jon had him start with modern-day exercises that focused on completely consuming his stamina, from running to push-ups to sit-ups to burpees and everything else he could think of.


And after he was finished with all that, it would be time for the second part which involved mindlessly swinging a weapon that he liked (which turned out to be an axe,) with repeating patterns, such as hacking, and slashing, as well a sufficient dose of footwork until his body remembered them completely.


Jon didn't give the boy a single moment of rest except for a few five-minute breaks in between and he made him continue like this until he felt that he was sufficiently dazed and his mind was entirely blank... and that would be when the third and most important part of this routine would begin... Sparring.


And his hard work actually paid off, Sam neither flinched nor shivered even when Jon stood in front of him with a sword, and when he aggressively attacked the boy, his sluggish mind was too slow to respond, making his bodily instincts take over and little by little he actually began to swing and dodge like a... Beginner fighter, which was quite an accomplishment.


And that was how Jon was able to help the boy so much in just a few months when his father was completely helpless even with years at his disposal. Thankfully, Becca took over after he was gone and didn't let him slack and lose all the progress, which would have been very disheartening.


"What? Really!!" Sam's exclamation suddenly brought Jon out from his internal musings, "Are you really just getting me a new Axe?"


"Yes," Jon nodded with a smile before he caught sight of the position of the sun through the window, "But we need to hurry otherwise, we won't be able to leave before nightfall," he said while quickly going out the door.


"I am coming," Sam said excitedly and followed Jon after placing the worn-out Axe on the floor.


Both of them moved briskly through the Great Keep of Winterfell, taking shortcuts along the way, so that, except for the occasional greetings, they didn't run into as many people. It wasn't long before they reached their destination—the old but well-furnished smithy of Winterfell that stayed hot year-round, regardless of whether it was winter or summer.


However, instead of entering it, Jon bypassed the larger smithy without a second look. "Huh? Aren't we going in there?" Sam asked in confusion, pointing towards the smithy.


"No," Jon replied in a mysterious tone without looking back, "We're not going there but here," he said while pointing towards the much smaller smithy right next to it that seemed as if it had only just recently finished construction. Unlike the bigger smithy which was a bustling place with its constant sound of clanging of metal on metal, the smaller seemed to give a desolate feel.


Sam was quite confused as to why they weren't going into the main smithy where they would probably get the good stuff. Even though he had only been here in Winterfell for less than a year, he knew that Mikken was considered the best Blacksmith around here, so he thought they would go to him, but now...


'Maybe, Mikken's busy...' Sam thought as he followed Jon as he entered the door to the smithy. It wasn't as small as it seemed from the outside, and looked like a smaller version of the bigger smithy.


It was equipped with various tools such as anvils, hammers and tongs, but there was a stark difference between this and the older smithy. This place lacked the cluttered mountain of tools, armour, and weapons waiting to be repaired, which meant that they didn't get as much work.


There was only a single forge on the left side that was roaring with fire and a huge blacksmith was in front of it trying to stimulate the fire and increase its temperature further. There were two doors leading to additional rooms in here one on the opposite side of where they were and one on the right side, besides which there was a huge stack of ores lying in the corner.


"Tom," Jon called after he saw that the man didn't hear them come in.


"Hmm..." LittleTom turned at his name being called and almost immediately his face lit up when he saw who had arrived, "Jon! You're finally here."


It was only when the man turned around and stood up that Sam realised that he was actually sitting all along. He involuntarily gulped and stumbled back when he craned his neck to look at the man as he rose to his full height.


It was completely absurd, this man was almost two heads taller than Jon who was already considered a tall person. He had read stories that giants lived among the common people in the North some centuries ago and that there were giants still alive beyond the wall but...


"Sorry for being late, Tom," Jon said while patting the boy on his shoulder which he could barely reach, "I was stuck with something—Oh!" he stopped mid-sentence when he realised that Sam was stuck standing at the door with a pale face while looking at Tom with fear in his eyes, "Come on in, Sam. Don't worry, he won't hurt you and no, he's not a giant..." Jon chuckled while beckoning him.


Jon knew what was going through the boy's mind, in fact, it was the same thing that would go through anyone's mind the first time they saw LittleTom. The boy didn't go through puberty; puberty went through him. He was already tall enough before but now... as far as Jon knew, the only person in the North taller than him may be the Umber Lord, and even that wouldn't be for long as he was still growing.


Seeing that he grew up every few months that he saw him, Jon had jokingly asked him if there was any connection between him and the Umbers. And it was then that the boy had shyly confessed that while he didn't know for sure since his grandmother had never confirmed it. He knew that he had never seen the face of his grandfather and that his grandmother was a cook for the Umbers.


Knowing those facts and the non-existent restraints of the nobles in this world Jon didn't need anything further to connect the dots.


The blood of the Umbers may not be the only one... another reason for his unusual height that Jon could think of would be that being a Warg somehow simulated his body growing up more than usual. After all, even Jon was a lot taller than his canon counterpart and the only major difference between them was that he was a warg.


"Is he the one who needed the axe?" Tom asked with a gentle smile towards Sam which finally released the tension in the boy.


"Yes, this is Sam, the one in need of an axe," Jon nodded while looking around, "So do you think you have one ready that he could wield."


"I do. Raul!" he shouted towards the door beside the haphazardly laying ores, and almost immediately the door opened and a teenager came out with a piece of cloth in his hands, "Raul take Sam here and show him all the axes that we have..."


"Yes, Master Tom," Raul nodded while placing the cloth with which he had been polishing the weapon in his pocket while opening the door to the armoury and beckoning for Sam to follow him.


"Go on, Sam," Jon said to the hesitant boy, "Choose the one you're most comfortable with. I'll wait here..."


Only after Sam had gone in and was completely occupied with choosing his weapon did Jon turn to Tom, "Let's go."


LittleTom nodded and led Jon towards the other door in the smithy which was his personal room that only he had access to.


The room behind the door was a big but simple one with a large bed, a large desk, and a small window. Tom gestured for Jon to take a seat before he kneeled in front of the bed and took out a sword as well as a small notebook from under it.


"This is for you... the best I've been able to make until now," Tom said while handing Jon the bastard sword.


"Hmm..." Jon scrutinised the sword very closely, making sure to check every aspect of it from its sharpness to its sturdiness to its balance. Having seen all kinds of weapons made by the best blacksmiths during his travels, Jon was quite a qualified judge, "How close is it to 'his'..."


"About two-thirds, I think..." Tom said after pondering for a while, "I was only able to see him make this kind of sword about three times so there are still a few intricacies that I am having trouble imitating..."


"So you didn't have much luck over this period of time, Huh..." he said while placing the sword on the desk and taking the notebook from him next.


"Sadly no," Tom shook his head with a sigh, "He didn't get too many orders during the time that I've been watching him. So, while I've been able to copy most of the normal techniques that he had taught his apprentices, those secret ones—the ones he keeps to himself... I've only been able to take a glimpse of just a few of those," he said, pointing towards the notebook filled with vague processes, time stamps, and complicated numbers involving metal moulding.


"It makes sense," Jon nodded with a furrowed brow while looking towards Tom, "After all, Tobho Mott... that man is the best that King Landing can offer, so he probably charges the money that is equivalent to that which means that not a lot of people would be able to afford him,"


"That is indeed the case. He barely got three small orders during the whole of last month and except for when he teaches his students, he spends the rest of his time overseeing the smithy, so I think it'll still take a while before I am able to take everything from him."


"Maybe not as long as you think," Jon suddenly said with a cheeky smile while patting Tom's shoulder.


"Huh? What do you mean?"


"There's soon going to be a tourney in King's Landing thrown by our very own Robert for his son's name day or something. Anyway, this means that there would be a lot of wealthy nobles attending so this may be the best chance for you."


"Really! T-This is perfect," Tom exclaimed with an ecstatic expression, he had been waiting for something like all this while.


"It is. So you need to be ready to give it your best as this chance may not come again anytime soon."


"Don't worry," Tom boasted while patting his chest confidently, "I've been practising very hard all this time. I can warg now for almost five hours with some breaks with my crow so I'll steal all his techniques no matter how many they are."


"Very good," Jon said satisfyingly, "And be sure to pay close attention to see if he gets any Valyrian steel order, even if the chance of it happening may not be much... After all, he's our only source of Qohorik smithing techniques until you are able to expand your range or we are able to get you to Essos."


"Don't worry, I always keep a watch out for them."


"Good and that is not the only good news I have for you," Jon said with a mischievous expression while pulling out two pieces of paper from his breast pocket.


"These are..." Tom said while quickly glancing through the papers that seemed to contain some form of various kinds of directions towards different places.


"All of these are directions towards the best weapon and armour smiths available in Westerlands as well as the Reach. After all, while Tohbo may be the best in King's Landing, he is not the best at everything,"


Different places in Westeros are best known for different kinds of things. For example, the lances and spears of Reach are known as the sturdiest while the Westerlands are the ones best known for their smooth and intricate armours that feel as if they are clothes. "So you need to be prepared for the hard work ahead because I won't stop until I turn Winterfell into the place where the best weapons and armours of Westeros are made...."


///

To read ahead go to: patreon.com/lazywizard

 

[LazyWizard]

"How much longer now, Jon?" Sam asked in a whining tone while trying to shift to a more comfortable position on his horse, but it seemed fruitless as he had already used every single part of his bum, and nothing was left unbruised.

He very much regretted their decision to take the kingsroad with horses instead of going the sea route through the white knife which would not only have been more comfortable but would have also taken them straight to White Harbor and be a lot faster.

"Not long now... We'll reach the city after we cross over that hill," Jon replied without taking his eyes off the book in his hands while pointing towards the hill in the distance. He had been reading that book since the start of their trip so Sam was already used to the scene of him riding his horse without looking at where they were going even though he was the one who was supposed to be leading and the one who knew the way.

The book in Jon's hand was a rare one with only a few copies in circulation around the world. It was called 'The Origins of the Iron Bank and Bravoos' and was written by Archmaester Matthar. He had borrowed it from the Citadel during his last trip there(though they probably had no idea that it was currently being borrowed).

This book not only detailed how one of the wealthiest banks in the world came to be but also shed some light on the interworking of the bank and how the Sealord and the bank's Secret Council controlled not only Bravoos but various other economies all over the known world, by lending their money to outsiders such as archons, tirachs, and the lords of Seven kingdoms.

While it was a very superficial book and didn't go into depth towards the real details, it was still a surprisingly good read if one wanted to get an idea of how the Bank operated.

According to the book, Iron Bank was founded by sixteen men and seven women who hid valuables in an abandoned iron mine shortly after the foundation of Bravoos.

As the mine's chambers filled with treasures, a bank was formed to utilize the wealth. Each of the twenty-three founders who had a key to these great subterranean vaults(previously the abandoned Iron mine), and their descendants—now numbering at least one thousand—are known as "keyholders". Among these Keyholders, who also have shares in the bank, the most powerful ones were elected to sit on the secret councils and have a voice in selecting who leads them.

"What is that?" Sam suddenly asked just as they crossed the hill— bringing Jon out of the book.

Jon looked up to see the only city in the North in all its beauty and magnificence. With houses built from whitewashed stone, and steeply pitched roofs of dark grey slate, it really looked quite pretty under the bright sun but that wasn't what Sam was pointing towards instead it was the long line of stables that had propped up outside the city that had gathered his curiosity.

"It seems they really used it, Huh..." Jon murmured to himself while looking at the novel spectacle in front of him.

He had sent a letter to Lord Manderly some months ago on a whim about the idea that the Citadel had come up with to reduce the population of horses inside the city but he didn't think that the Northern Lord would be so quick to apply it.

It was almost mid-day, the peak time for traffic to enter the city, but unlike the usual mixture of humans on foot and humans on animals, the main entrance of the city was mostly filled with traffic on foot as most of the people were choosing to leave their horses outside the city in the care of stables.

"Why are there so many stables outside the city?" Sam asked again when he didn't immediately get an answer, "And why are the people leaving their horses here instead of taking them inside?"

"I think... I think it's because the city is trying a new system," Jon said in an admiring voice— impressed with Lord Manderly's quick-wittedness, "It's a system where anyone who wants to enter on the back of a horse needs to pay an additional tax,"

"But Why? What could they possibly achieve by doing this?" Sam asked in a bewildered tone. He knew that a rich house like the Manderly's wouldn't go to so much trouble for this little amount of money.

"Mostly because of the shit," Jon said with a shrug.

King's Landing was not the only city in this world which had the shit problem— in fact, almost every single big city in this world had that problem. While the capital was unique in the sense that it had more human shit than animal ones, the rest of the cities still struggled with the shit of animals running like water through the streets no matter how many times they clean it.

And while the smell didn't propagate much here in White Harbor due to the cold, it was still quite a huge problem since animals were the only mode of transport in this world.

On average a horse would produce about 15 to 35 pounds of manure per day, so anyone can imagine the sheer scale of the problem. The manure on the streets also presented huge attractions to flies who would then go on to propagate diseases like typhoid fever.

His previous world also grappled with this problem during the 18th century. People at that time called it the 'Great Horse Manure Crisis of 1894' and the newspaper at that time predicted... "In 50 years, every street in London will be buried under nine feet of manure.". Of course, nothing like that happened and the situation was resolved because of motor vehicles... but until something like that happened in this world this was the best solution to this problem.

"But won't the people be unhappy with it?" Sam asked in a confused tone, because as far as he knew there was nothing the smallfolks dreaded more than taxes.

"Not at all. After all, it's not a mandatory tax," Jon said with a shrug as they slowly approached the city, "If they don't want to pay the tax then they can easily use those free-of-cost stables outside the city provided by the House Manderly. So in a way, they are saving money since now they wouldn't have to pay the innkeepers in the city to take care of their horses."

"So only the wealthy people will actually be affected by it." Sam said while nodding with an understanding expression, "Well, that is...Unless you're someone who needs to be somewhere very urgent, then you would have no choice but to pay the tax..."

"Hmm... for now at least," Jon said with a pondering expression.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Tell me, What do you think about a Starkhorse Carriage that is available for people to rent so that they travel inside the city at a fair price..."

"Starkhorse Carriage? What is that?"

"You know about the regular ones, right?" Jon asked and after Sam nodded he continued, "Well, just add another wheel on the rear side and a sitting platform on top of it. It would be a carriage that could easily carry two people all over the city for cheap and could be manually cycled by a single person," he said thinking about the tuk-tuk carriages that were quite famous in the Asian countries in his previous life.

"Jon! JON! HERE!"

They were just about to join the long line to enter the city when they heard the shouts of someone calling Jon. Both of them looked over to an almost empty side entrance, in front of which stood a middle-aged man, waving and beckoning them over.

"Let's go!" Jon said to Sam with a smile and both of them rode towards the familiar Merchant, whom Jon hadn't seen for a long time.

"Uncle Sam, How have you been?" Jon asked with a huge grin as he dismounted from Peggy and hugged the man who was almost as tall as him.

"I've been more than fine, Jon," the Merchant replied while warmly patting Jon's shoulder.

"Ah! Sam meet Uncle Sam. He is Becca's father and the one in charge of all our ships on the East side," Jon said while introducing the merchant, "And this is a good friend that I picked up during my Adventures in the Reach, and coincidently he is also Sam."

"Good Day, little Sam," the Merchant nodded and shook the shy boy's hand in greeting before saying, "I am sure we'll have plenty of time to get to know each other in the future but at the moment we need to hurry along..." he said while leading them towards the small entrance.

"Why?" Jon asked as they passed through the door where the guards seemed to be familiar with the Merchant and let them in after a cursory glance at them.

"It's Lord Manderly..." Big Sam explained with a sigh while leading them briskly through the crowded streets filled with people from all over the North, "I accidentally let it slip that you were expected to arrive before noon and he immediately insisted on throwing a small feast for you."

"Ah! That man is too fond of his feasts," Jon said while shaking his head with a rueful smile.

Big Sam took a discreet look behind him to see that little Sam had fallen back while leading the horses and was out of their earshot before turning back and asking Jon in a low voice, "So what did you decide Jon?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Lord Manderly was too happy and excited for this to be just a social visit. A huge amount of money and profits have to be involved for a man of his stature to even quirk his lips," The merchant looked at Jon with undisguised curiosity in his eyes and asked, "So tell me, What did you decide to do with our Bravossi problem and why exactly is the lord so giddy to meet you?"

"Ah! You found out about that huh..." Jon said with a sheepish expression, "But nothing's done yet so I don't want to—" he stopped mid-way through the excuses with a wry smile when he saw the impatient inquisitiveness in big Sam's eyes, "Ah! Fine! If you must know then—I am... planning to sell it all."

"Huh? What do you mean sell it all?"

"It is exactly what it sounds like. I am going to give all rights to sell the Starkhorses on the East side of Westeros to Lord Manderly..." Jon explained with a shrug, "For a hefty price, of course. He can then sell as many of them as he wants to any city he can access, we'll no longer have anything to do with it."

From the very beginning, Jon had only started this to get some seed money and now that he had more than enough of that, he didn't have to constrict the sales anymore so that he was the only seller.

Unlike the West Coast where the North had no sea trade with the rest of Westeros, there was already an established house here with trade routes to all cities. The Manderlys weren't known as the richest in the North for nothing, they had many connections, merchants, shops etc in every small and big city on this side.

Lord Manderly was known as someone who had his finger in many different pies, so Jon knew that making use of his connections was essential to boost this business beyond its current limits.

Plus it had the added benefit of placing the Manderly's as somewhat of a buffer between Jon and those two shadows in Kings Landing.

Jon didn't want anything to do with those two until he was sure that he would be able to deal with them. In addition, while he knew that the world was better off with the likes of Petyr Baelish dead, he wasn't too sure if Varys was an enemy or not at the moment.

And it wasn't like it was easy to get rid of them sneakily—No, in fact, both of them were among the top ten hardest people to kill in this Westeros, right along with the likes of, Tywin Lannister, Olenna Tyrell, Lord Bolton etc. After all, they lived right next to their worst enemies every single— they would already be dead if they weren't constantly vigilant with threats to their lives.

Poison—the most obvious solution that comes to anyone's mind when thinking about assassinating someone—was completely useless against them.

They never ate anything that wasn't exclusively prepared by their own man, they almost always kept guards by their sides, and they had the weaknesses of every single person under their employ firmly in their grasp so that no one could even think of betraying them.

And even if Jon was lucky enough and managed to kill one of them— they would immediately realise that there was a new player in the game and it would spook the one left fiercely. And god forbid if one of them managed to escape somehow and went into hiding, it would be all over. Because even Jon with all his wargs at his disposal would find it incredibly hard to find someone like them with all their resources if they were adamant about hiding.

So it was better for them to be in the open and for him to be in the shadows until it was time.

"B-But that's just—" Merchant Sam's bewildered voice brought Jon back to the present, "Why would you willingly give up such a money-making business? And w-what about all of our investments and all the ships that we bought and all the sailors that we've recruited until now—Are we just going to let them go? Just like that—"

"Calm down!" Jon firmly told the hyperventilating Merchant, "No one's going anywhere, and while it may seem like it, this is not a spur-of-the-moment decision. In fact, it was always going to end this way... All the things we've been doing until now have been just to prepare for this moment—for bigger things,"

"Bigger things?"

"Yes, Much bigger things!" Jon said with a gleam of excitement in his eyes, "After all, that is why our next destination is Bravoos..."

...

Bravoos was a city well known for its mysterious foggy mornings... but today it was different. Today there were no signs of clouds in the sky and the sun rose quite early in the morning, it was one of those fine mornings which promised a clear, crisp and bright day.

Even the laziest of hawkers and merchants opened their shops early that day to earn money from people who came out to enjoy the rare fine morning. No one wanted to miss out on earning easy money, especially in Bravoss where money speaks louder than anywhere else. So the streets were already filled to the brim with people peddling their goods and customers moving from one shop to another trying to find the cheapest prices.

But the doors of the Iron Bank remained closed as the people in charge didn't care whether it was sunny or if it was raining, they would only open up when it was time to open and not a minute sooner even if a king was the one waiting at the door—Ehm—Unless there was a lot of money involved, of course.

People from all over the known world were standing in a line outside the main entrance hoping to be the first one in. Some were here to withdraw gold from their accounts, others to deposit but most of the early ones were here for only one thing... to try and see if the mightiest bank in the world would lend them some gold.

But things weren't quite so hectic on the other side; at the rear entrance which was exclusively for the use of bank employees. There was usually no penalty here even if the employees arrived a bit late, the only thing that mattered in this institute was if they were capable enough to bring in the gold, it didn't matter if they worked for an hour or from dawn to dusk, only results mattered here.

Two lazy-looking guards stood guard at the entrance waiting for the time when the traffic would start coming. They carried spears with them but they were mostly there for the show as it was almost impossible for someone to even think to challenge the Iron Bank in Bravoos.

"Were you out drinking all night again, Ray?" one of the guards asked the other with a fed-up expression when he saw his friend yawn for the fifth time even though their shift had only just started.

"Huh? Oh yeah! hehe... But don't worry, I wasn't there just for the drinks," he said patting his chest confidently before a lewd smile suddenly appeared on his face, "I also spent the night with that famous new girl at the docks..."

"That's even worse!"

"What can I do? She's just too pretty... I can't control myself," Ray replied with a dramatic and helpless sigh.

"Aren't you tired of it by now? Don't you think it's time for you to think of your future and start saving—"

"Argh! A married man like you can never understand the agony of people like me," Ray said while looking resentfully at the family man.

"Sigh! Just don't fall asleep on me will you," the guard replied while rolling his eyes, "Because I am not covering for you again..."

"What! Why not—"

"Shhh!!" the guard suddenly interrupted his friend's whining with a panicked expression and immediately straightened up with a sharp look on his face. Ray wasn't confused for more than a moment and immediately followed his friend's example and he too stood at attention with his eyes staring straight ahead.

Footsteps echoed as a man wearing a drab coat of brown and grey (clothes usually worn by people higher up in the bank,) appeared walking towards the entrance with a pompous air about him.

The thing which had actually sent the guard panicking was the decorative key worn around the man's neck. It wasn't just any normal key; it was a piece which denoted that the man was— someone they couldn't afford to offend—a mighty keyholder.

This key could only be worn by the descendants of the twenty-three founders of the Bank. And not every descendant (numbered in thousands) had the right to it. Only the most qualified ones were given this honour and there was a fierce fight every time one was up for grabs. But it was quite unusual for the man to wear it as it was supposed to be a ceremonial piece— only to be worn on formal occasions.

It was only when the man came close enough did the guards saw the face of the man wearing the key and their eyes immediately widened in surprise as they recognised who it was.

"Good work, Lads," The man said with a smirk, patting the guards condescendingly before he entered the premises while humming a merry tune.

Only after the footsteps had completely disappeared did both of them take a sigh of relief and slouch back towards the wall.

"Did you see the key?" Ray whispered, his eyes still a little wide.

"How could I miss it? The man was practically puffing his chest and shoving it in our faces." his friend replied with a snort.

"How the fuck did a fool like that Daario suddenly become a key holder." Ray asked while scratching his head, "I know that it hasn't been that long since the shit joined the bank..."

"Didn't you know about that recent election for one of the positions on the secret council?"

"Huh? Which one—Oh! Was it for the position of that Oldie who died while fucking in the brothel?"

"Yes, that one exactly. His uncle was lucky enough to snatch that seat and since he doesn't have any male heirs... he probably got the key as default of being the only candidate."

"Damn! What luck!" Ray cursed with an envious look on his face, "Ugh! I need a drink..."

"You're incorrigible..." his friend while shaking his head with a wry smile.

...

Daario Zalyne entered the room with a satisfied smirk on his face. He was quite delighted with all the envious glances that had been thrown his way, it felt... it felt like he was finally getting the respect he deserved after all this time.

He took a glance across the room towards the open window before going towards his desk. But just as he was about to take a seat, he suddenly frowned. He wiped his finger on the table and saw a very thin layer of dust.

"Maybe I should get a new assistant..." he murmured to himself. Now that he was finally moving up the ladder, he couldn't have this level of incompetence following him. "Ah! I can't let this ruin my mood," he said before shaking his head to forget about it.

After all, his uncle had finally won the much-coveted seat on the secret council and one of the perks that came with that position was that his uncle was now completely in charge of the Cheguy Port, the biggest and most important port of Bravoos.

Excluding the various small wharves and landing for fishermen and ferries, there were three main ports in Bravoos: the Chequy Port, the Purple Harbor and the Ragman's Harbor, also called the Outer Harbor.

The Purple Harbor was an exclusive that only allowed Bravoosi ships while the Ragman's Harbor, which his uncle was previously in charge of, was located in the west of the city and was the port where all the foreign ships docked, it was poorer, rougher and a lot dirtier than the other two and he hated working there.

But no more...

As one of the key factors in helping his uncle achieve this goal, he was obviously going along with him. And the best part was that his uncle had promised him that if the Cheguy Port came under him, he wouldn't forget about his contributions and would place him in charge of the nearby Arsenal—one of the most prestigious positions in Bravoos.

It was a just reward for all the efforts he had spent in trying to squeeze as much as he could from the regulars of the previous port to show a massive increase in revenue under his uncle. Of course, one of the major contributors to that amount was that small Merchant fleet from the North—his ever-increasing tax on those Starkhorses had been a great help.

Usually, he wouldn't have been able to unilaterally increase taxes like that without any backlash but he had chosen his targets very carefully. He only collected outrageous taxes like this from the softest of targets; Targets like those savages from the North, because he knew that they would never even be able to come up with the notion of complaining to the relevant departments. And even if they did, it would only work if they went to their competitors otherwise he knew how to make their complaints disappear.

After clearing his desk, he started to through the list of people whom he had to meet today— when he came across a name which made him stop.

"I thought I told them... No one from the North," he grumbled with irritation while crossing the name of one Jon Snow, North from the list. He knew that the man probably wanted to meet him to discuss the issue of tax but he didn't feel like dealing with it today.

Initially, he had decided to raise the tax just until the election and was going to remove the excess after his uncle won them, but now...

'It feels like such a waste...' Darrio thought with a sly smile.

...

It happened just around noon...

Darrio was just about to get up for lunch after finishing up with some work when there was a sudden knock on the door.

He looked up with a frown on his face as he had expressly told his assistant not to send anyone close to lunch hours.

He was just about to open his mouth to deny entrance to whoever was on the other when the door suddenly opened without his consent. His mouth closed shut as he bewilderedly looked at the handsome young man who nonchalantly entered the room.

"Who are you?" he immediately asked with a glare while trying to project a deep authoritative tone he had seen his uncle use.

The man didn't answer him immediately— instead, he slowly closed the door and looked around the room as if searching for something all the while ignoring his glare—and that pricked his pride more than anything.

He immediately raised his hand to pull the rope beside him that would summon the guards to his room when the man suddenly turned to him after having finally finished his inspection of the room, "I am Jon Snow." he introduced himself with an easy smile

"Jon Snow?" It took a while for Daario to remember where he had heard that "From the North?" he asked and let go of the rope when the man nodded. He didn't want any unwanted attention now that he knew who he was, "How did you get in here?"

"Oh! I have my ways..." Jon Snow answered with a shrug.

"Whatever ways you have, you can keep to yourself, Jon Snow." he snorted while swearing that he would definitely fire the assistant who had probably taken the bribe to let him in, "I know why you're here... but I am very busy at the moment and can't—"

Jon abruptly turned away from Darrio and started walking towards the window while ignoring whatever Darrios was saying. He went towards the window to pull up a small pouch from outside.

"What are you doing?" Darrio asked in an alarmed voice as he looked at the man retrieve a pouch that he hadn't seen before that moment. His hand instinctively started going towards the rope when the man abruptly swirled.

Darrio flinched as he felt a whoosh of air and a thunk. He slowly opened his eyes and involuntarily gulped when he looked down to see that the knife that Jon Snow had thrown just inches away from his hand finger.

"Let's talk, Shall we?"

///

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[LazyWizard]

"W-What are you doing? Don't come near me!" Darrio warned Jon while swiftly retrieving his hand from beside the vibrating knife stuck in the table, "You won't be able to get away with this. I am telling you." he said with a fierce expression, "Do you even know who I am?" as Jon came around the table but the tremor in the banker's voice gave him away, "Just one shout from me will have guards swarming this place and you will be done for—"


"Do it, then," Jon interrupted Darrio with a shrug while leisurely taking a seat beside the knife on the table right in front of the banker.


"W-What?" Darrio creaked out incredulously, thinking that he had heard wrong, but the Northerner sitting in his face didin't react, as if he didn't care about his threat to call the guards at all, "You!— I am not joking. I will do it."


"I know."


"G-Guards," Darrio tried but only managed an embarrassing high-pitch squeak that didn't reach very far, "GUARDS!!" he tried once again with a proper shout but the madman didn't even flinch and maintained his poker face which made his stomach fall to the ground.


"Everyone knows that Bravoos is a place where information is almost as valuable as gold." Jon said in a calm conversational tone after the banker had finished with his futile shouts, "So of course, they are going to make sure that their information stays only theirs... and to that effect when this Bank was made they made sure that rooms were as sound proof as they could them." Darrio had a shocked expression on his face as if thinking how the hell does this outsider know about this when even most of the people working here didn't, "And sadly for you the only guard who could have heard you is right now sitting on a privy and he probably won't be coming out any time soon... So basically you're stuck with me," Jon finished with a smile.


The Iron Bank was supposed to be one of the most secure places in the world. They have guards around every single corridor and room in the establishment. And not to mention the strict surveillance they have at the gates and how they never let anyone, no matter who they are, carry any sort of weapon into the premises not even a little fork.


But somehow this man from Westeros managed to find a loophole and not only feed his guard a laxative but also find a way to smuggle a bag of knife inside.


"W-What do you want from me?" Darrio finally asked with a gulp, his false bravado having completely left him, "If all you want from me is for me to lower your taxes then there was no need to go so far, I would have— Argh! No! Don't kill me!" Dario flinched and ducked in terror when he saw Jon suddenly jerk the knife out of the table surface.


"Ah! You're mistaken," Jon said with an amused smile at the man almost pissing his pants, "I was just a bit hungry and wanted to have an apple. I can... can't I?" he asked while taking one from the fruit basket nearby.


"O-Of course," Darrio replied hesitatingly while thinking, 'As if I am in any position to deny you'.


Jon nodded his head and rubbed the red apple on his shirt before he started slowly and skilfully peeling it. Darrio peeked at the man calmly skimming the apple and slowly lowered his guarded hands as he was sure that the man didn't intend to kill him... At least for the moment.


"W-What do you do you want from me?" he tried once again after a minute when he saw that the man was completely focused on the apple and was ignoring him, "Because if it's money then you didn't have to—"


"Oh! No, No, No!" Jon shook his head with a smile, "I am not here for the pennies you have in your account. What do you have like 150-something thousand in there..." Darrio involuntarily nodded his head with his eyes completely wide at the eerily accurate amount, "Yeah I wouldn't do this much work for so little..."


Darrio would have normally felt offended at the way the man was belittling his life savings but he wasn't in any position at the moment so he kept all that out of his expression, "Then what—"


"What I want from you is... You!" Jon said while pointing towards the banker with a smile.


"M-Me!" Darrio squeaked involuntarily while pointing at himself with a dumbfounded look on his face.


Jon nodded with an earnest expression on his face which immediately sent the banker's mind down the wrong path as he looked at the dashing young man with gray eyes telling him that he wanted him. Fortunately (or maybe, Unfortunately) Jon explained himself before he could misunderstand.


"Yes, I want you," Jon nodded while putting a slice of apple in his mouth, "To be exact, I want you to be my helper, my spy, my subordinate, my... pawn. I want you to obey every single order of mine, whenever I ask you to do something, you will set everything aside to do it... you'll work for me, you'll steal for me, you'll kill for me—Basically, you'll... live for me."


"Are you kidding me? You—" Darrio's indignant retort almost instantly died in his throat as he looked at Jon's raised eyebrow and remembered the situation that he was in, "I-I mean Yes! I will be your puppet. I will do whatever you want me to do, Sir," his tone quickly changed to a fawning one but... 'Like hell, I will obey you, You Barbarian! The moment you step out of this room, I'll call the guards and have them capture you for me. I'll drag you through the streets. I'll skin, I'll flay, I will torture you until you're begging me for death, You Bastard!!!' he screamed internally but the only thing visible on his face was an awkward smile.


"You know... I can almost hear the thought jumping inside your head," Jon said with an amused smile on his face, "But don't worry I am a very persuasive guy. I assure you that by the time I leave this room not only will you agree to it... you'll almost beg me to be my puppet," he said those absurd words with such eerily calm eyes that it immediately sent a shiver down Darrio's spine.


"W-What are you going to do?" Darrio asked in an alarmed tone as his mind started conjuring all kinds of tortures this madman could inflict on him to "persuade" him.


"Oh, No! Don't make that face. I am not going to do anything bad to you," Jon assured with a nonchalant wave of his hand, "I am just going to tell you some of my secrets and explain to you what I am and why it would be in your best interest to follow me..."


"What... you are?" Darrio parroted with a puzzled expression, wondering what he was talking about.


"Exactly!" Jon nodded his head as if agreeing with him, "Hmm...Now, where to start... Ah! That would be a good place," he mumbled to himself before looking at the banker, "Tell me, What do you think about magic or sorcery... Do you think it exists?"


"Magic?" he mouthed with a weird expression on his face.


Jon asked because he knew that sorcery was a little-known force in this world. How much you believed in it was heavily dependent on where you were. In Westeros, particularly the Citadel, most people doubt its very existence. It has been so long since magic was truly potent that most understanding of it only lives on in superstition and rituals of questionable validity.


Only in a few places like Quarth does magic still remain a potent force, particularly in House of the Undying where the enigmatic warlocks were said to possess great powers. Not to mention the even more mysterious blood mages, spell singers, necromancers and many more that are said to gather and practice their arts in the lands by the Jade Sea and Asshai by the Shadow.


"Yes, Magic!" Jon nodded while explaining, "You know, like in those stories about witches and priestesses who can control flames or are said to be able to sacrifice blood and life to summon shadowy creatures to act as their assassins. Not to mention the ones said to possess the ability to divine the future by looking into flames or those who give you a prophecy about if you're going to have golden children just by taking a little bit of your blood... Have you heard about them? Do you think they are real?"


"Umm...No." Darrio answered awkwardly, trying to guess where this madman was going with this. 'Was he perhaps trying to tell him that he was a witch,' he scoffed in his heart.


"No? Hmm... That makes this a bit difficult," Jon said with a troubled face before his eyes suddenly lit up, "Oh! I know! What about something close by like those from the House of Black and White? You must surely believe in them, right? After all, the mightiest assassins in the world, Faceless Man, are trained there. And they obviously have magical powers given to them by their Many-Faced God, which enables them to take on any face that they wish to, whether it be an old smallfolk man, a woman or even a lord."


"Yes... I-I mean Maybe,"


Of course, Darrio knew about them, there's no one living in Bravoos who wouldn't know about them, but the number of people who actually went in and knew what happened inside would be very few. He was also one of those who only knew what he did about them from the stories he had been told as a child and the only thing that stayed in his mind was the repeated warning from adults about never going anywhere near that place unless you want to give up your life.


Even the Iron Bank had a policy of staying out of the temple's way, and it was one of the few places in Bavoos where the Bank had no control. Even though the temple was near them, the bank was very rarely known to use their services as it was well known how costly they were and that it was almost always way cheaper to just hire normal assassins and if it was someone well protected and in a prominent position... then it was still better for them to fund their opposition.


"Well... just like you guys have your mysterious assassins we have legends of our own in the North. Legends like the Children of the Forest, Giants, Mammoths, Direwolves, Ice Spiders, Ice Eagles, and much more. And... I am also someone from those Legends," Jon finished with a straight face.


Darrio looked sceptically at the Northerner, wondering if the madman was going to tell him that he was a half-giant or if he was a descendant of the Children of the Forest and had magical blood.


"That's right. Similar to those red priests of R'hllor who got powers from their Lord of light, I have also been given powers by the Old Gods..." Jon said spouting bullshit without flinching, but inside he was cringing at himself fiercely. He felt that his performance wouldn't lose to those cult leaders of MLM schemes from his previous lives, "What powers you ask?" he continued luring in the banker, "Basically, I am someone who's been given complete control and command over all creatures of this world, whether they be a four-legged beast, a bird or even an insect. I can make them do anything I want, from mundane things like delivering letters for me to fetching a fruit for me to spy for me and even... kill for me. You don't believe me, do you?"


"No, I do," Darrio quickly nodded his head with a forced smile. He would agree to anything... even accept the man as a god as long as he wasn't killed today.


"Hmm... Looks like I need to give you some live demonstration," Jon said with an understanding expression, "I know! How about I introduce you to one of my friends, I am sure you'll be convinced then," Jon said before pointing his finger towards the only window in the room, "You just need to turn your head and look there..." banker looked sceptically at the man before complying with his request.


Darrio silently looked at the blue sky while pessimistically wondering if enough time had passed for someone to notice something wrong or if the guard was finally done with his business and was coming to rescue him.


He was absentmindedly scouting when he saw something suddenly flash by, something that made his eyes widen in disbelief. He immediately rubbed his eyes in doubt while thinking, 'There's no way what I saw was real...'


"Did you see it?" Jon asked while looking expectantly at Darrio but the banker just shook his head speechlessly, "Oh, was it too fast?"


"I-I just saw some b-blue flash outside the window..." Darrio answered hesitatingly as he felt that his mind was just playing tricks on him before and he refused to believe that any creature could be that big.


"Let's try that again then... I'll ask my friend to slow down this time."


And this time Darrio had his eyes completely peeled open, which meant that he was able to see the horrifying huge blue eagle-like bird in full clarity as it slowed down. His face immediately paled as he saw the icy creature pass by the window. The ethereal creature had crystal-like sharp feathers, fierce yet gentle blue eyes and gleaming claws, it was something straight out of legend—a fairy tale.


"She's called Frost..." Jon said quietly to the deathly scared banker, "One of the rare legendary creatures that I mentioned... Don't you think she's quite beautiful?"


Beautiful wasn't exactly the word that Darrio had in mind while looking at that otherworldly eagle, instead all that stayed in his head were those knife-like claws that he was sure could easily twist his neck and pluck his eyes out and with the speed that he had seen he was sure that she could do much more... And to think a creature like that was under this man's control...


"And she's not the only friend I have nearby," Jon said cheerfully, breaking Darrio out of his reverie, "I've got another smaller one here who's dying to meet you," he said before turning his face towards the empty room, "Come out, Gan."


Almost immediately squeaky sounds echoed through the floor and before Darrio could recover from the shock of what he had seen out the window, he saw another "friend" of the Northerner.


A small brown mouse quickly and skillfully climbed the table and scampered across to a stop right beside Jon and started rubbing the man's clothes as if it was a pet dog or a cat, and what was even more unbelievable was that he actually saw the little thing look straight towards him with a human gleam in its eyes and wave its small claws at him as if greeting him.


"He's a very cute little critter isn't he," Jon whispered with an indulgent smile while gently rubbing his finger on the mouse's back, "He's quite intelligent, you know. The perfect little spy."


He didn't want to but Darrio had no choice but to start believing what the Northerner had been telling him from the start. He still didn't think that he was a god or anything like that but... it was getting harder and harder for him to deny that the man had magical powers probably given by those heretic Old Gods.


Still even with the little spy mouse, and massive killer eagle, there was a small bit of resistance left inside of him that told him that he could still find a way out of this situation as long as he was somehow able to get away from him for a while...


Unfortunately for him what happened next utterly destroyed his last bit of defiance...


"And last but not least, I want you to meet my newest little friend," Jon said looking up from the harmless-looking mouse that seemed to have relaxed the tense nerves in Darrio, "She's quite a unique one, as in there's not a lot of her species left in the world. At least not in any places inhabited by humans. I found her in a very remote forest in Westeros, a place where all kinds of creatures thrived without interference from humans but that's not the most unique thing about her." Jon said with a sneaky smile, "The most special thing about her is her lethality, her ability to kill. Even though she's quite small, no bigger than my finger, she has the ability to bring down any creature a hundred times bigger than her in a matter of minutes with just a small bite... Yep, you guessed it right, she's a spider."


Darrio involuntarily gulped and his eyes started frantically looking all over the room in search of the spider wondering where it would jump out from.


As he was looking around the corners of the room, he suddenly caught a mischievous smile from the corner of his eyes and when he turned towards Jon he saw him staring at his right hand which was placed on the arm-chair. And almost instantly a shiver of revulsion ran through Darrio's spine as he understood the implication of his gaze.


Just as Darrio was about to fling his arm out and hopefully dislodge wherever the abomination was hiding in his sleeves, Jon's hand clamped upon his wrist like a pair of steel forceps rendering his right hand immobile.


"Uh! Uh! Uh!" Jon shook his head while clicking his tongue, "You can't make sudden moves like that. What if you scare my friend into biting you, she's quite shy, you know." he said in a light admonishing tone before he ignored the banker and looked down, "Come out, Widow."


Almost immediately Darrio started to shiver and shake in terror as he felt something crawl up his arm. If Jon wasn't holding his arm in a vice grip the banker would have already been jumping and screaming like a little girl.


His mind was completely overwhelmed with fear as he closed his eyes and started praying with tears hoping that he didn't piss himself. It took a while, but thankfully for him the crawling finally stopped when the creature reached his wrist.


Breathing heavily, Darrio slowly opened his eyes to see a grotesque arachnid sitting on the back of his palm. Its body was a sickly combination of mottled black and deep crimson, and its dark abyss-coloured beady eyes stared unblinkingly towards him. Its long sinewy legs were covered with tiny hairs arising a deep sense of disgust and terror in him.


The spider jumped from his wrist to Jon's and almost immediately Darrio snatched his wrist from Jon's hand, cradled it in his left hand and started rubbing it fiercely, hoping to somehow get rid of the goosebumps.


"Ah! Are you perhaps afraid that she bit you," Jon asked with an innocent tilt of his head, "You don't need to worry, because she won't do something like that unless I ask—Eh? What? What are you saying?" Jon suddenly stopped mid-sentence and looked down towards the spider with a shocked expression on his face, "But why would you—Oh! Are you saying that he shook too much and you accidentally bit him... That makes sense," he said with an understanding expression towards the arachnid.


"W-What?" Darrio suddenly interrupted with a hysterical look in his eyes, hi stomach dropped at hearing the words "accident" and "bit", "What is spider talking about!!"


"Well... It seems there's been an accident," Jon said with a sheepish expression on his face, "My little friend here got scared when you shook too much a few minutes ago and unintentionally bit you...But don't blame her too much you know, she's still a bit young—"


"DON'T BLAME HER!!! Are you out of... you..r...mi..nd..." Darrio's outburst was cut short as his tongue suddenly started going numb and before he could make sense of things his other bodily organs followed soon after.


His arms and legs got locked, his neck went stiff and he started shaking as if he was experiencing seizures. His face started going purple as almost everything in his body stopped responding to his brain's command. His senses started to dull and everything seemed foggy as if he was looking out of a thin screen of water. His veins were burning with fire as if a swarm of ants were moving inside him.


"Oh, my...It seems the poison's already started to affect you," Jon said with a troubled expression that didn't seem too sincere to the banker, "It's so sad... You didn't even get a chance to say if you agreed to my proposal..."


"S..av..e...me...pl..ea..se..."


"What? Are you asking me to save you," Jon asked with a tilt of his head, "I mean, I guess I could... I do always keep an antidote in here," he said while pulling out a small vial from the same bag he got the knife out of, "But this thing is quite expensive, you know and I only got this single vial with me. So it would be such a waste... of course, if you had agreed to be my subordinate I would have used it unhesitatingly... But—"


"I...ag..r..ee...so...pl..ea..se...I...be..g y..ou..."


"What? What did you say? Hey...I...didn't...hear...you..." Darrio's hearing suddenly turned down and warbly and his mind slowly started going numb as his consciousness started to sink.


He regretted ever getting involved with this northerner... it was such an absurd way to die... he wanted to live more than anything... and if he was just given one more chance, he would do anything... he wanted to live even if it was as someone's puppet.


...


The first thing he felt when he regained consciousness was pain... his neck and his back were stiff and hurting something fierce. His eyes gradually opened to find that he was still sitting in the chair in his office and for a moment he was ecstatic to find that there was no one sitting at the table in front of him, but before he could fantasize that everything had just been a dream, he heard the most dreaded voice again...


"Oh! You're finally awake... I was almost bored to death waiting for you," Jon had vacated his seat on the table and was sitting in the chair on the other side with his legs placed on the desk and was leisurely going through the last of the fruits in the fruit basket.


The position of the sun outside the window showed that not more than an hour had passed for Darrio... but that hour had been the most agonising of his entire life and he never wanted to go through something like that again.


"Well now that you've finally back to living, can we get back to the topic at hand... because I don't have much time now," Jon said while taking his legs off the table and sitting properly to face Darrio, "I don't know if you remember but just before you went to sleep you finally agreed to accept my proposal..." he stopped before he suddenly looked at the banker with a playful smile and asked, "You're not going to take it back, are you?"


Darrio looked down with a struggling expression on his face while Jon continued, "I mean not like you have many other options. I guess you could try snitching on me the moment I am out of here but then you could never be fully sure that I am not spying on you using any nearby rat, cat or dog, and you know what'll happen to you the moment I find out..." Jon said in a completely tranquil tone, "So unless you plan to spend the rest of your life in a completely isolated room with no windows and no holes from which any creatures enter—Ah! you would also have to abstain from eating and drinking because I am sure you know that since I can control all kinds of animals, it's not very hard for me to get my friends to slip something uncomfortable into your food without your knowledge—"


Darrio immediately shivered and quickly shook his head, "No! No, please... I am never going to tell anyone anything. I'll do everything you say... so please don't..."


"Are you sure?"


"Yes!"


"That's perfect then," Jon exclaimed in a cheerful tone while getting up from his chair, "I am so glad that we could come to an agreement... I knew that I would be able to persuade you," he said with a cheeky smile while moving towards the door, "Now, I need to go but don't worry you'll soon get my letter with your first instructions, so be sure to do a good job."


"Y-Yes, I will."


"Have a good day then,"


Darrio's body turned into jelly the moment the door closed, his eyes and pants started leaking simultaneously as his taut nerves relaxed. The banker had never imagined that what was supposed to be the best day of his life would end like this...

///

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[LazyWizard]

The city of Bravoos was famous around the world for many things, from the gigantic Titan statue which roars every hour to its vibrant markets and its rich seafood, to the countless canals sprawling across the hundred islands, the numerous temples on Isle of Gods, the Arsenal and of course, the Iron Bank.


But the thing that attracted the most attention, particularly among the male population whether they be Nobility or rich merchants, were its courtesans, who were renowned across the world for their skills, and beauty. They were not like the common bedwarmers found on every other street in Lys, here the courtesans were a lot more sophisticated. Every courtesan here had her own barge and numerous servants to work in them.


The courtesan were public figures here with a lot of admirers. And the fans of particularly famous ones such as Nightingale are said to be fanatic enough to kill you if you say any other woman is more beautiful than her. There may even be a courtesan with Targaryen blood in here, someone called Black Pearl, said to be a descendant of Aegon IV Targaryen.


Today Darrio, the banker, was in a barge of one such courtesan, but sadly he wasn't there to satisfy his base desire but had come here to meet someone.


Darrio was sitting alone in a luxurious reception room with his hands folded on his legs. The premium tea placed on the table in front of him had gone cold while he was waiting for his target. If it was just a few weeks ago he would have already thrown a tantrum at being made to wait for so long but now... sadly for him, he didn't have the leeway he used to have as now he answered to someone.


The man he was here to meet was one of the last ones on the list that Jon had given him, but he was also the hardest to convince.


The list was the first task that Jon had given him and it was filled with names of all the prominent merchants in Bravoos that Jon wanted to cooperate with in his new business, but since he didn't have the necessary influence in Bravoos to convince these people easily, it had fallen on Darrio to do this work. And so Darrio had been on a streak for more than a week going from one place to another to meet with all kinds of big and small merchants to persuade them to invest in Jon's new Company and now he was finally here on the last one.


His target this time was one of the richest merchants in Bravoos, with connections and shops in almost all free cities in Essos and a few of the major cities in Westeros. This man was someone who regularly sat and ate with all kinds of magisters, princes, and lords so he wasn't someone Darrio could easily bully into accepting his terms like he had done with the others. He had to be convinced using softer tactics which Darrio wasn't quite skilled at but he had to do his best nonetheless since it was a task set by his new... master.


Just as Darrio was lost in his thoughts, the door to the room suddenly opened and in came the target he was waiting for.


He was a middle-aged man with brown hair and brown eyes and was wearing purple garbs that weren't able to hide his fat belly. He had quite the pleased and satisfied expression on his face but all the happiness went away from his face the moment he saw who was waiting for him in the room.


"You are quite the persistent one, my friend. Aren't you?" Mario asked with a wry smile while closing the door behind him.


"Thank you," Darrio replied with a stiff smile.


"That was not a compliment." Mario said dryly, "I've seen your face more times than I did my wife in the last few days... which is not a good thing." The merchant grumbled while taking a seat opposite Darrio, "You're young, you're rich and you just got yourself a position in the Arsenal. You should be out there enjoying life and not be in here trying to scam honest old man like me into investing in your business."


"My uncle wouldn't have reached where he is if he stopped to enjoy every little accomplishment he got. And I am not trying to scam anyone. What I am doing is giving people a chance to be a part of a new business that is going to be guaranteed to be fruitful."


"Sure you are," Mario said, his voice thick with sarcasm before he shook his head, "But my answer wouldn't change, it's just too risky for me to hand over the precious good that I've gathered over two months to this new company on its very first journey. If I was still young and reckless, I would have thought about it but now..." Mario shrugged with a sigh, "Now I just want to put my money in safe and secure hands; sure the returns may be little but at least they are steady."


"But that's the thing, this company is the safest bet you could make," Darrio urged passionately, "I guarantee that your goods would be a hundred per cent secure and will reach their destination without a single dent in less than half the usual time. You would be able to make three times more profit than before."


That's right, he was here to persuade Mario to invest and provide goods for a new shipping company, Jon's new company.


Bravoos was quite well known as being one of the wealthiest port cities in the known world with a naval strength that only a few like Volantis could rival, but there was one massive thorn in its side hindering it that even it couldn't easily get rid of... The Pirate Dens in Stepstones.


In and of themselves this small chain of rocky islands was worthless - however, almost all the major sea lanes between the narrow sea (the sea between Westeros and Essos) and the Summer Sea (the sea south of Dorne) have to pass through the straits between the Stepstones, making them strategically very important. All the sea trade to the east coast of Westeros and to five out of nine of the Free Cities has to pass through the Stepstones to reach the other major markets of the world.


It is said that the one who controls the stepstones can control half the world trade which makes it as heavily contested as the Disputed Lands. It has been vied by most of the free cities at one time or another but none have ever succeded in fully controlling them, at least not for long enough.


This power struggle created a gap for the low lives to thrive in this global crossroads; sailors, mercenaries, pirates, adventurers, and exiles from all across the known world could be found in the Stepstones. Even the Ironbron reavers have found the Stepstones to be good hunting grounds to seek their fortunes making this part of the sea as dangerous as it is profitable.


But of course, money always finds a way and the way that the Merchants here have found was to form a fleet.


Once every five to six months whenever the time was ripe and when they'd collected enough goods from their various sources, the richest merchants would pool together their resources to form a fleet and then hire many mercenaries and the mighty warships from Bravoos to be their bodyguards to sail through the Stepstones.


No matter how strong the greed of the pirates may be, they would never dare to confront a fleet of merchants protected by Bravoosi warships so the merchants are almost always able to get to their destinations safely. They will then sell and buy as much as they can in the cities on the other side of Stepstones... and make at least enough profit for them to come back again after a few months.


Of course, hiring the warship was absurdly costly which means that their profit margins were not as good as they should be for such an elaborate trip. But they had no other options as it was either this or choosing a few of those smaller fleets with daring(or reckless) captains to trust. But choosing them was the same as gambling as the chances of their goods reaching the destination were less than half as they would either end up at the bottom of the ocean or worse... wake up to find themselves being sold for a few coppers.


Jon had recognized this gap where there was a lot of easy money to be made and had decided long ago to open up shop here. But of course, the most important things for a shipping company weren't the ships or even captains but the customers, which was where Darrio came in... Jon ordered him to use the full might of his connection to find people and make them trust his new company with their good on his maiden trip.


"Yeah, Yeah, I know. I heard about that leaflet outside of your shop about your "Hundred Percent" guaranteed safety," Mario said with a scoff, "But every single captain always boasts about that... until they run afoul of pirates and then—then they run with their tales between their legs while throwing the cargo behind. And change their tune to, "Oh, but it's just business, and profit and loss always happen in businesses—" CHE!! I am telling you, the number of times I've heard this thing..."


"But you know me! You know who I am; who my uncle is. I am not some charlatan off the side of the road trying to scam you out of your money. I am telling you that I have complete confidence in this succeeding—"


"Oh, but that's the thing. I don't know what exactly makes you so confident." Mario suddenly said with his eyes narrowed, "Did you make some kind of a deal with some private who would allow you unhindered passage?"


Most of the smaller shipping companies survive this way; they choose the way of compromise by paying the pirates a hefty protection fee to secure a passage. But there was no assurance of guarantee of safety in this as the pirates weren't an organised bunch, you could pay one pirate group to leave and then immediately run into another one who wouldn't think twice to attack you. After all, they are pirates at the end of the day.


"Who is the one you made a deal with? Was it Salladhor Saan? But... then with his exorbitant prices, you wouldn't have been able to offer the shipping prices that you are offering. Then is it one of those other petty pirate kings?" When Darrio still shook his head Mario frowned trying very hard to think who it could be, "Then who is—Wait! Don't tell me?! It can't be the Crow's Eye, could it? Because everyone how mad and unpredictable that man is, you would be better off drowning your money in the ocean than making a deal with him."


"No! There was no deal made with Euron Grejoy. As for the secret behind my confidence..." Darrio shook his head silently signifying his desire to keep this a secret.


"Fine! Keep your secrets." Mario said with a sigh, "But then it would be tough for me to hand over..."


Darrio's eyes unconsciously went towards the position of the sun through the window and he started to become desperate. Jon had wanted the ships to set sail this very week and had given Darrio an ultimatum to fill every single one of the spots on his ships with cargo before then and... he didn't want to find out what would happen if he didn't.


"I... How about I guarantee with my uncle's name," Darrio forced out his ultimate trump card. The difference between his status and that of his uncle was very significant but it was just that... he didn't actually get the go-ahead from his uncle... but now that it had come to this he just had to bite the bullet and do it while leaving the consequences to his future self.


"Are you sure— No, I mean Deal! You got a deal, My friend, HAHA!" Mario immediately cut short his doubts and quickly accepted the deal with a wide smile. And as if afraid that Darrio would back out, he immediately had a servant bring him ink and parchment and quickly wrote down the contract, "My Friend, you just need to sign here to acknowledge what you just promised me..." Mario said while looking at Darrio with an expectant look.


For people like Mario money stopped being their highest priority, and only power could stimulate their emotions now. And this paper represented power; it was an opportunity to have the vulnerability of a member of the secret council in his hands. It didn't matter now if the ship sank with all of his good... in fact, he was even somewhat hoping for it now...


"Perfect! With this, I'll sleep worry-free." Mario said cheerfully while tucking the parchment in his pocket, "And don't worry, I'll support your company with all my might. In fact, I'll send my men right this evening to transport enough goods to fill up all your ships."


"Thank you," Darrio said with a forced smile. He stayed for a few more minutes there to hash out the rest of the details such as the exact price Mario would pay per crate of goods before leaving the barge with a list of all the goods.


Darrio quickly left the Barge towards a boat waiting nearby that would take him through the canals in the city towards the port.


Darrio's body finally sagged in relief at finally having completed the task set by Jon. The dark circles under his eyes would easily tell anyone how stressed he had been over the past week.


In fact, it was only when he was sailing over water that he could be completely relaxed nowadays. Since at least on water there weren't a lot of chances for him to run into animals or... spiders under 'his' control.


A piercing cry of a loud seagull suddenly echoed from above him immediately sending a shiver through his spine, almost as if... as if someone was reminding him that there was nowhere that he was completely safe.


It was only when the boat lurched to a stop near the bustling market at the entrance of the port that Darrio was able to regain his composure. He quickly paid the driver who was looking at him weirdly and left the boat to push through the crowded streets.


His brown and grey banker garbs made sure that people gave him a wide berth. And he tried his hardest to only look straight ahead and not flinch every time a cat or a dog happens to pass by.


Before long he had left behind all the stalls selling seafood and came near enough to the port that most of the shops were now either inns for sailors or were dedicated to selling people advance tickets for scheduled ships going to the nearby cities such as Pentos, Kings Landing, White Harbour and many more.


Right in the middle in the most prominent location on the road was a newly renovated shop with a huge board on it that read, "Northern Wolf Shipping", the words were written beautifully in both the common tongue and in Valyrian. But even though this shop was the biggest and the most impressive of all the nearby shops it was the only one with no customers.


Darrio sighed while looking at the empty-looking shop... he could still remember the crowd that had flocked to the shop when it had been newly opened especially because of the advertisement up front that boasted of a fifty per cent discount. But when the people went inside and found out that this newly born company not only provided shipping to the cities across Stepstones but also boasted a hundred per cent guarantee, the people left as quickly as they had arrived, knowing that it was just a scam.


Darrio shook off his wandering thoughts and went inside the shop but he came out soon after and started walking towards the port. The fat teenager manning the shop had told him that Jon wasn't inside and that he would find him by their ships at port.


Darrio hurried along as he passed one ship after another in the massive port and only after walking for about half an hour did he reach the area where the seven Northern ships were docked. They were all standing in a single line with each ship flying a flag with a roaring wolf head drawn on it. Of the seven ships, four were of normal size while the other three were massive trade galleons, but even though they all seemed to be freshly painted they couldn't hide the fact that they were many years old.


About a dozen workers were slowly loading goods into the four normal ships while the three trade galleons remained stationary and empty, but Darrio knew that they wouldn't remain vacant for long with the agreement that he had gotten from Mario.


He was easily able to spot Jon standing nearby in the shade of the ships and started walking towards him. Jon wasn't alone and had two middle-aged with Northern features standing beside him and he seemed to be explaining something to them while occasionally pointing towards a map on the table in front of them.


Darrio came to a stop a few steps away from the table and stood there silently, waiting to be called. Other than a single glance towards Darrio Jon completely ignored him and continued speaking with the two Northerners.


Darrio didn't understand much of what he was saying as he wasn't too proficient in the common tongue but after seeing the lines and dots on the map, which had the Narrow sea prominently in the middle as well as from the bits and pieces which he could comprehend, he guessed that they were charting the path that the ships would take for the trip. The most unbelievable thing for Darrio was that most of the paths traversed directly through the middle, in the open sea and not hugging the coast like was common.


Just as he was lost in his thoughts Jon suddenly stopped talking and looked towards Darrio with his hands outstretched and ordered, "Give me the list!"


"Huh?" Darrio asked in confusion before he realised what he was talking about and hastened to take out the list of goods that Mario had given him and handed it over to Jon. He didn't even want to think about how Jon already knew that Darrio had succeded in his deal or that he had also gotten the list from Mario because he knew that the less he thought about it the better for his sanity.


"Take this list, Uncle Sam," Jon said giving the list to Merchant Sam, "Workers belonging to the Big Mario should start arriving soon with the goods written in there. I want you to thoroughly check everything in there, and that nothing is missing and then have them properly stored. And also make sure that our ships are ready and stocked to leave in two days."


"Yes. I'll get on it right away!" The merchant answered confidently, and after taking a quick look at Darrio, he left along with the other man towards the ships.


Merchant Sam and his assistant had only walked for a few minutes when the assistant finally couldn't hold himself back, "D-Did you just see that?!!" he asked visibly shaking with excitement, "Did you look at the way that banker was standing there with that submissive look on his face as if he was meeting his superior. He didn't seem like a mighty banker at all."


"Shh!! Don't speak so loudly." Sam rebuked but it was hard for his assistant to take him seriously when he saw his master's lips quirk up into a smirk, "And of course I saw that, It would be hard not to. That look on that banker's face was completely different from the last time when he kicked me out of his room. I almost didn't recognise him with all the arrogance and pride missing from his face," he said smugly.


"B-But how did the boss do it? How did he make some like that bend..." he asked in an incredulous voice while sneaking a glance back at Jon who seemed to ordering the Banker to do something with a cold face.


"The boss has his ways," Sam said in a mysterious tone, "I told you that day, didn't I? That everything will be solved once he's here."


"Yes, you did." the assistant said with a fawning tone before he suddenly had an enlightened expression on his face. "I finally know now why those people back home revere him so much," Before the assistant joined Sam's ships here in the East, he had spent a few months with the crew in Bear Island. And when he was there, he had been quite bewildered by the worship and awe sailors held for Jon... but only now did he understand that he was completely deserving of all the worship and adulation.


"Of course, they revere him. Now stop daydreaming and get to work. We have a lot of shipments coming and need to finish everything by tomorrow so we need to hurry along or we won't be sleeping tonight."


...


Jon didn't immediately start speaking to Darrio after Merchant Sam and his assistant had left, instead, he was occupied with the map in front of him as he drew marks on it charting different lines. And only after he was completely satisfied with the paths did he close the map and look up towards Darrio.


"Good work with Merchant." he said with a cool nod, "You stood up to my expectations."


"Thank you, Ser. I didn't do too much" Darrio answered meekly, not daring to look into Jon's eyes. Even though more than a week had passed since that day, he was still a bit traumatised by the close experience with death that he had and was deathly scared of Jon.


Jon was quite amused while looking at the grown man almost quivering in his shoes in front of him. Normally he would have felt a little bad for scaring someone to this point but considering all the things he had found about the man during his research into the banker... his sympathy didn't last for very long.


The was spoiled rich scum through and through. He was cruel and heartless and had destroyed a lot of small and struggling businesses and had also killed and crippled a lot of people without mercy in his quest to follow his uncle. But that wasn't a very unique thing in this world as every other rich asshole here was just another Joffrey just without that many tantrums. Plus the man also had a fetish for tormenting and assaulting any girl he took a fancy to, so Jon didn't have a lot of pity for him.


In fact, the incident with the spider hadn't been an accident instead it had actually been a deliberate act on Jon's part. He didn't really have a pet spider named Widow that he acquired from a mysterious island and all of that had been just a ruse to scare the banker, in truth, the spider was just the scariest-looking one he could find on the way to the bank.


Spiders and other small insects and arachnids belonged to a category of small living beings that didn't have a developed enough brain and soul that Jon could connect with on a deep level. The best he could do with them was take over their bodies and control them forcefully when they were in front of him, much like the other wargs in this world do. But this crude method meant that there could never be a long-term bond between them and that they would forget Jon the moment they got out of his sight making it impossible for them to follow long-term orders.


As for how he had actually poisoned the man? Well, that had just been a simple use of the poison he had created using the book he had gotten from Oberyn. Tweety had delivered it to Darrio's glass of water before Jon had even entered the room. Which was also the reason that he had the antidote already prepared beforehand.


"And what about the warships? Did you find out when I can get them?"


"Y-Yes," Darrio answered in a nervous voice, "I-I've checked the records and found out that there is a backlog of pre-orders lined up for the next two years... S-So it's hard for anyone to get any at the moment—"


"Do you think I don't already know that?" Jon asked quietly with a raised eyebrow.


Jon had laid the foundation for recruiting and training sailors in White Harbour way back when Merchant Sam first left Winterfell which means that it was even before the school in Bear Island started. So there were more than enough men, young and old, waiting back at home with months and months of practical training at being a sailor. While at the moment they may be doing some other jobs, he knew that he only needed to give one call and he would have them all rushing to join.


Plus, it was only a matter of time before the shipping company took off. He only needed a few trips successful trips to show on his resume before he would have lines of people waiting to get on.


This means that he would have sailors, and all the customers he could need in the future so the only thing that could hamper the growth of this company is the number of ships... and luckily for him, the world's biggest shipyard was right here.


The Arsenal of Bravoos was world famous for its ship-building capacity, and the war galleys made here were all of the same design allowing shipbuilders to work on separate parts at the same time. It is said that if it was needed then they were even capable of creating a war galley in a single. So of course they would have a lot of customers lining up to get them to build ships for them.


"N-No! I mean yes—"


"Why do you think I wasted so much time on you if not for this? If I could have gotten the ships through normal channels then there would have been no use for you. You're not saying that you're useless, are you?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.


"N-No!" Darrio gulped and answered, "B-But it is impossible for me—"


"Fine. I won't ask for too many... How many warships can you get me?"


"N-No more than one in t-two months..." Darrio answered as if forcing the words out of his mouth. Even swiping one in two months would be as hard as climbing the titan barehanded, he would have to grease a lot of hands, speed up production, delay other people's orders and spend a lot of time carefully messing up the papers so that no one finds out about the missing ones.


"That's too little..." Jon said with a frown, "Fine I'll manage, but you also need to add two trade galleys with every warship..."


"I-I'll try my best," Darrio said with a relieved look, as getting trade galleys was easier than warships.


"Make sure you do." Jon said nonchalantly, "After all we are all in the same boat since you also have shares in my company."


Darrio quickly nodded with a forced smile. The shares Jon was talking about were nothing more than a formality of one per cent which he had given Darrio to smooth most of the process involved in setting up the shop and shipping company here. If it wasn't for Darrio's name as one of the owners and investors, it wouldn't have been possible to set up everything so quickly.


"What is it now?" Jon asked as he looked at the banker who was making a face as if he was constipated.


"Umm... About the money..." Darrio said as he hoped with all his might that he wouldn't have to pay for all this from his own pocket.


"Money will be no problem." Jon said waving his hand nonchalantly, "You'll get the proper payments for every single one of them. I'll send one of my men..."


...


While Jon was talking with Darrio, not far from them were two shifty-eyed men wearing sailor garbs looking at all the Northern ships with greedy eyes.


"Did you see all the goods being loaded, Uncle Frank?" one of the men said in an excited whisper.


"I did," the other man replied his face splitting into a sinister smile showing all his rotten teeth, "Looks like we caught a big fish, boy. Captain Jack will be quite happy with it..."

 

[LazyWizard]

Five sleek rundown galleys were haphazardly docked on an otherwise desolate coast mid-way between the cities of Pentos and Myr. Their flags didn't carry any kind of skulls on them but anyone with even an iota of common sense could see that they were all pirate ships.


At the moment, most of the crew were standing in the shade of a few trees with only one large man with a crooked hat sitting comfortably on a light wooden chair.


"Where are they? Where are all the fucking ships laden with goods that you promised me, Huh?" Captain Jack growled, his hands gripping the handle of the chair so tightly that it almost crushed them. The sun was about to set for the third time since they had laid an ambush here in this god-forsaken place to wait for the prey... but their target was still nowhere in sight.


Most of the nearby pirates hurriedly scurried away from the center leaving behind two shivering pirates, Frank and his nephew, in the middle to take on the wrath of the Captain.


The Captain looked like a typical pirate with a hat, an eyepatch and a gold tooth and while he wasn't completely insane like some of the other famous pirates, he was still an... unpredictable man. One minute he could be singing and drinking with you and in the next something would set him off and he would dump you into the ocean while laughing his ass off. So the crew usually tried their hardest to not run afoul of his temper because when he gets angry, it is very... ugly.


"M-Maybe they got d-delayed, Captain—" Frank stammered as he tried to come up with some way to wiggle out of the situation but the Captain didn't have much patience for him.


"Shut up!! I've had enough of yer excuses!!" Captain Jack thundered as he slowly rose from his seat. He was a massive man, almost a head taller than everyone else, so when he came to stand before the two pirates they almost pissed their pants, "You told me that seven ships left Bravoos laden with goods with less than 100 fighters on board and that they would be here soon... So where the fuck are they!! I've been sitting on my ass here for three fucking days with not a single ship in sight. Which means that you lied to me and there were no such ships to begin with because no matter how delayed they are, it can't take them more than three days to reach here from Pentos..."


Unlike what most people think, being a pirate involves a lot more than just drinking, sailing and looting. A lot of delicate intelligence gathering, planning, and patient ambushes were involved before they even got to the fighting and looting part, especially for the pirates here in Essos.


There were not a lot of places in the world where pirates were welcomed so one of the most limiting factors for the pirates was a base where they could supplies. Thankfully the Stepstones were all under the control of forces friendly to pirates but only the most powerful pirates could station their fleet on Stepstones at all times and attack trade ships that came within their striking range which means that the other middling and smaller pirates had to leave the islands in search of targets in other places.


The Stepstone was like a massive tree from which the pirates spread out like branches into the nearby port cities' waters to prey on merchants' vessels. Some of them targeted the northern cities like Pentos, Myr, and Tyrosh while the others went downwards towards Volantis, Lys and the others.


Thankfully Essos wasn't a Kingdom or an Empire under a single ruler which meant that there were a lot of abandoned places and villages in between the cities where there was no government and no regular patrol so that they could set up temporary bases to supply themselves. But even after finding a place to set up, the work of a pirate is far from over, the next thing they need to do is to find targets to hit.


Most pirates always keep scouts in one or more of the nearby port cities so that they can scour the ports all day long searching for the fattest target that their fleet can take on. And when they find something like that, they immediately try to get the information, to their captains as quickly as they can, about when the ship is leaving and where.


If the Captain was happy with the target, they set sail immediately to the nearest uninhabited coast in the target ship's route and then dock there to wait for the target to arrive. A few sentry ships are sent to patrol at some distance from the coast so that they can always keep a lookout for all the passing ships. And since ships in this world aren't able to navigate if they don't sail while hugging the coast, it is usually possible to see all the passing ships even with the naked eye, though some ships sail far enough that they may not seem more than a dot, it is still more than enough to identify if it's their quarry or not.


The moment they identify their target, the sentries immediately raise the alarm, so that the pirates on the coast can board the ships as fast as they can.


After that, it is a race between them and their target, if they set off from the coast fast enough. The pirates are usually able to catch up to their target more than eighty per cent of the time since trade ships are usually a lot heavier and slower than the more slender pirate ships which don't contain anything more than a few crates of food and a few barrels of booze. So the only place where they can mess up is if the sentries miss their target...


"M-Maybe they stopped to e-eat or they got l-lost at the sea—" This time the other pirate, Frank's nephew, tried to find a way for them to out of the situation but only made the problem worse as the Captain became even more mad.


"Hang these curses to trees and let 'em burn to death in the sun." The captain scoffed before going back towards his chair.


"No!!" "P-Please Captain!! Just give us one more chance!!"


"Captain Jack," And just as the rest of the crew were about to merrily carry their former friends off to hang them, the only man, without a beard on the coast, spoke, "It would be a waste to just kill them. Why don't you give them another chance, I am sure they won't make the same mistake again."


The man without a beard was the only one on the crew who could speak up and whom the Captain couldn't ignore easily. He was someone whom his father had sent to 'help' him learn. The crew only knew him as the Advisor and knew that he was the only one who wasn't intimidated by their captain's anger.


"Fine!" Jack grumbled before turning back towards the two pirates who had already been looted and almost stripped naked by the rest of the crew, "Frank, you'll go to Bravoos and try once again, and make sure that this time you get reliable information because if you don't then," the Captain suddenly smiled maliciously while looking at the nephew, "then yer lad here will be sold to the slavers to recover some of the cost of this trip."


From an economic point of view, every single trip for a pirate captain is a form of investment, and a costly one at that. With the cost of food, drink and the repairs of the ships being some of the unavoidable things, if they don't get good loot every few trips, they would go broke very soon.


"B-But—"


"Or I can sell the both of you right now and get my money even sooner," The captain cut off the pirate's pleas with that statement.


"No! I-I'll try my best and make sure that I get a good target this time, Captain," Frank said reluctantly.


"No! I want you to find that same fleet from last time," the Captain said with a gleam in his eyes, "I am sure that since we missed them, they probably completed their trip and made some good profit this time... which means that they are going to be an even fatter catch now..."


...


The one thing that the pirates were right about was that Jon's trip went without a single hiccup and was a mighty successful one.


In fact, by the time the pirates were expecting them between Pentos and Myr, they had already bypassed Tyrosh and were halfway through their trip and had even passed the Stepstones in the night without being spotted a single time. They didn't make any stops to trade in any of the ports before the Stepstones since the trade between cities such as Bravoos, Pentos, Myr, and Tyrosh was already flourishing very well.


Their only long stops were at Lys and Volantis, where they easily sold every single thing onboard into the waiting merchants' eager hands and on the way back they picked up as many local goods as they could to fill their ships.


When the fleet finally made their way back to Bravoos after a successful trip they were all welcomed with shocked exclamations from the crowd at the port.


"W-Why are they already back? It's been less than three weeks... Could it be that they failed the trip?"


"No! No! It can't be that. Look at all the goods that they are unloading from the ships. From the looks of it, it seems to have been a very successful trip."


"B-But that can't be right... You don't believe that they went all the way to Lys and Volantis in just three weeks, right? It usually takes at least three weeks just to reach there even if you only stop in the ports along the way for just a day."


"Maybe they didn't go all the way and just came back after going to Myr and Tyrosh..."


"Can't you see what the goods being unloaded are? Those intricate and beautiful tapestries and those wine barrels are definitely from the Lys and everyone knows that those crates filled with Sugar beets can only be found in Volantis. So they definitely went all the way..."


"But how did they complete the trip in less than half the time?"


"Maybe it was just a fluke... and the winds were just in their favour."


"But what if it isn't a fluke..."


Slowly but surely people's perception of the Company changed as they stopped believing that it was just a scam to trick them and even though not many believed in the company's boast about 100 per cent success, the shop still slowly started to fill with customers.


It was a completely different scene when Jon finally started to prepare for their second trip after resting for a week. For their first trip, they had to convince, coerce and even give discounts to the merchants to lure them in as customers, but for their second time, they didn't even have to do half as much. All the cargo space for the ships was filled shortly after they opened the slots.


While more than half of them were filled with returning customers who wanted to try their luck a second time, the rest were filled with apprehensive newcomers who wanted to try and take a gamble to see if they too could make the same profits as the others.


But what Jon didn't know was that his smooth and successful trip was having a very adverse effect on the life of a few pirates...


...


By the time Frank heard the news and came to the port, it was already too late. Jon's fleet had already left the port of Bravoos... it was like a death sentence for him, as he knew that there was almost no hope for their ships to catch up to them even if he went to his Captain with the information immediately.


Frank hesitated for quite a while at the port about whether he should go back to his captain at all because he knew that his Captain was a man of his word and that he wouldn't have anything good in store for him if he heard the bad news. But then the face of his nephew appeared in his mind... he still remembered the rainy day when his poor fat sister had handed the boy off to him to take care of before running away.


After an hour of agonizing, he finally gritted his teeth and decided that he had to at least try and save his nephew.


And just like Frank had predicted, his Captain wasn't happy with the news at all...


"You Fucker!! I told you what would happen if you failed again, didn't I?" he cursed while kicking the pirate so hard that he almost broke his back, "And you still had the gall to come back here empty-handed while spouting nonsense excuses... What did you think, Huh? That I'd be merciful and forgive you again? Do you take me to be a sisy now?"


"Argh!! P-Please, C-Captain!! I t-tried my best b-but by the time I arrived at Bravoos, the fleet had not only completed their trip but had also started another one." Frank hurriedly explained himself when the Captain stopped kicking him for a moment to listen, "The ships in that fleet are abnormally fast, Captain. They completed the whole trip from Bravoos to Volantis in just three weeks—"


"And here I was thinking that you were finally going to say something useful..." The Captain scoffed and resumed kicking the pirate with renewed ferocity, "Are you kidding me? Do you think I am stupid enough to believe something like that? What will you say next, that their ships can fly in the sky or that all of them ride on their pet whales, Huh?"


"Wait a second, Captain," the clean shaved advisor, who had just been silently watching so far suddenly interrupted and stopped the Captain from killing the pirate in his anger, "Tell me the truth, Frank. Is what you said about them completing the trip in just three weeks true?" he asked the groaning pirate.


"Y-Yes! I-I swear to R'hllor, " Frank replied in a feeble voice filled with agony, "Y-You can ask anyone at the port of B-Bravoos, all of them saw the same thing..."


"You can't be seriously believing in this bullshit? This bastard is probably just making up shit to save his worthless ass."


"Most probably," The advisor shrugged in reply to the Captain, "But it would not be very hard to verify it, and if it turns out that he is telling that truth..." he trailed off as his eyes suddenly got an interested look in them, "I need to see this through with my own eyes."


...


Travel between the Essos's free cities was quite fast as long as the Stepstones were not between them so it didn't take the Advisor too long to reach Bravoos by renting a merchant vessel.


The Advisor was a very thorough man and liked to verify his findings from multiple sources to be sure. So he didn't go back until he had seen the ships complete a full trip in front of his very eyes and only after he was done finding everything he could about the shipping fleet did he return.


But when he arrived at the pirate's camp, Frank and his nephew were almost half dead. They had been locked into cages and were barely being given any food and water to sustain themselves; both of them were sickly thin and filthy and seemed to have had a particularly miserable time.


"Release them." was the first thing that the advisor said after shaking his head at the condition of Frank and his nephew.


"What? Don't tell you're feeling sympathy for these lying pieces of shit." spat the Captain while chugging cheap ale recently looted from a merchant ship.


"They were not lying." The advisor said with a quiet sigh.


"What? What do you mean?" Captain Jack asked in a puzzled voice.


"They were right about that Westerosi fleet being able to complete a round trip to Volantis in just under three weeks, and by now they should have had three such successful trips under their name, each one equally fast," The advisor explained calmly while taking a seat beside the Captain in front of the campfire, "The ships belong to a new company called Northern Wolf Shipping hailing from the North in Westeros and it is owned by a Westerosi and a Banker."


"What? How could that be possible?" The Captain asked in a bewildered tone, his drunkenness leaving him very quickly, "Do they have some new kind of ships with new designs that are very fast? How many sails do these ships have to be so quick..."


"That's the thing... the ships in the fleet are all the common kind. They have four cogs and three trade galleys, but there is nothing outwardly different about them and I would go even as far as to say that they are quite old and on the slower side."


"T-Then how the hell did they accomplish it." The Captain asked frustratedly, his head almost spinning from trying to come up with a way for it to be possible... the only thing he could think of was that there was some kind of magic involved.


"Well... there were mainly three rumours amongst the smallfolk at the port in Bravoos as to how this Northern shipping fleet can achieve this feat. The first one is that it is just a very elaborate scam... they say that the fleet is not really going all the way to Volantis, instead they are stopping at some place mid-way where they exchange Bravoosi goods for the ones from Volantis and Lys with some land merchant who is in the scheme and then they turn back...


"That doesn't seem very likely..." The Captain said with a frown


"I too believe it is the least probable one as it is too complicated and costly... and I can't see any kind of clear motivation as to why someone would do this..." he said while shaking his head, "Anyway the second rumour is an even more absurd one... the people think that the captain, a Westerosi named Jon, knows some kind of Dark Magic and that before every trip he sacrifices a hundred virgins to his heathen god to get a blessing of swift winds to help him at sea."


The Captain scoffed, "As if a hundred virgins would be enough for something like this..."


"But I believe the most probable one is the third one." The advisor continued while ignoring the Captain's comment, "Some people think that Captain Jon knows some kind of Ancient Westerosi navigation method in which one uses the position of the Moon and the stars in the night sky to navigate the open sea."


"I... have never heard of a method like that," The Captain said with a thoughtful look in his eyes before he shook his head, "But even if that were true and even if they were able to travel day and night... it is still too absurd to believe that they could complete the whole trip to Volantis in just under half the time."


"Hmm... Have you ever seen the position of Bravoos and the Stepstones on a single Map?" The Advisor abruptly asked out of nowhere.


"No... I don't think so."


"Well... A trip from Bravoos to Stepstones drawn on a map looks somewhat like this..." he said while drawing a crooked semi-circle on the sand using a nearby stick with Bravoos on one end and the Stepstones on the other, "Normally all the ships traverse the sea hugging the coast... which means that they travel something like this," he said while moving the stick along the circumference of the semi-circle, "But if someone was able to sail directly from one end to the other..." he used the stick to join the two ends in a straight line, "then they would be able to cut the trip drastically short."


The Captain scratched his fiercely trying to understand what the advisor was saying with weird shapes drawn on the sand but no matter how hard he tried he was coming up short. But it wasn't his fault as he had never hundreds of books like the advisor had... Now he knew why his father valued this man so much and why he sent him with him when he left...


"If what you say is true then it must mean that this Captain Jon is a very rich man..." Jack said with a greedy grin on his face, "I can't wait to get my hand on his ships..."


"You're thinking of this too simply my Captain," The Advisor said while shaking his head disappointedly, "It is no longer a matter of just gold anymore... If we are somehow able to catch this Jon alive and force that method of navigation out of him..." even the normally calm eyes of the advisor suddenly shook with excitement at the notion, "Then forget being rich, we could become completely invincible at the sea. No one will be able to compete with us anymore... Not Salladhor Saan, Not the Crow's eye and not even the mighty fleets of Bravoos and Volantis would be our match, We could become the next Sea Snake... maybe even better than him," he took a deep breath before turning to the Captain with a serious look, "It is a lot bigger than you think, Captain, so the best option right now is for you to tell your father about this and take his help—"


"No!" The Captain said as he abruptly stood up, "You will not call my father in... I will be the one to catch this Jon and present him to my father as a gift..."


"But—" The Advisor tried to say but stopped after seeing the rare stubborn gleam in the Captain's eye, "Fine! But it won't be easy catching this Westerosi fleet since detecting them at open sea is absurdly difficult and considering that they only stop at the big cities, attacking them while they are at the port would also be suicidal..."


"I know that it would be hard or almost impossible for the average pirate to catch them, " The Captain nodded, "But I have you... You've sailed beside my father for more than a decade... so I am sure you've got a plan or two on how to catch them."


"Maybe..." The advisor said with a thinking frown on his face before he suddenly turned to the uncle and nephew in the cage, "But first release them..."


"Ugh! Do we really have to release these fuckers?" The Captain said with a disgusted look on his face, "It's not like they are particularly good at anything besides eating..." And he felt a bit uncomfortable just releasing them after all the torture he had inflicted on them over the past few weeks.


"Yes, it's important to release them, since..." he said with a sinister smile, "I've got just the perfect job for them."


///