Howl of the Seawolf (OC/SI)

[kaizerfox]

Goddamn it, Joffrey exists ? All that work only for the wheels of canon to flexibly reinsert themselves in such a way. A son needs to be born to Robert or our girl Argella is gonna be the first Queen Regnant of Westeros ( Rhaenyra absolutely doesn't count ).

So Malora's here to stay. She grows ever more interesting and significant. Oldtown and the Hightowers too for that matter. I wonder who's Malora gonna *pair with.

Yeah, that trackss with the spotted whales. All cetaceans for the matter ( to varying degrees I believe) have complex social structures, sophisticated communication, problem-solving abilities, and a high level of emotional depth. They have familial structures and as Seastark pointed out the ability for limited negotiation. I expected a bit more shock and surprise by the group upon learning how sapient and intelligent these whales were. They assumed the whales were being wholly controlled via skinchanging only to learn its somewhat if a partnership. It's an incredible discovery in that era to learn.


* Honestly if MC wasn't married to Myrra, Malora would actually be perfect. No offense to our northron lioness.

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I like creating an alternate timeline that's very different from canon, but still has certain canon people/events happen anyway. It's not going to happen often and it's already happened with Oberyn injuring Willas Tyrell in a tourney.

Malora's paired up with Jonos Slate, heir to Blackpool and Wyman's goodbrother. She'll become Hugo's skinchanging protege and get her own pod of orcas in Blackpool. The Slates will be in Hugo's debt for setting them up with a prestigious marriage. Funnily enough, I considered Malora as a pairing with Hugo but decided to go with the Lannister connection.

I'm going with, they heard what Hugo said but they don't fully comprehend that whales are not just smart beasts but near human in intelligence (maybe more emotionally intelligent than us). Marwyn the Mage will detail the skinchanging in his personal journal, but his public writings will detail much of what Hugo told them about spotted whales. This will of course, spark fierce debates in the Citadel. It's actually interesting to think about what would a society in a medieval/proto-industrial do if they found out what we've learned about whales in the last 20 years. Hell it's only in the last 5 that we've decided they have languages and that we're going to attempt to translate them with AI. Wait until they learn orcas have languages and that a pod in Wolfsport won't be able to communicate with a pod in Oldtown.

Malora would marry Janos Slate.Good choice.And Joeffrey would be problem only if Stannis die, becouse he would not let Cersei fuck his mind,like Robert did in canon.No,here it would be Joeffrey training dutifull to serve Kingdom.

@kaizerfox , what about terror birds and giant sloths ? could you include them,too?

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Sure, I can include terror birds and giant sloths in Ulthos/Aeotearoa.
Edit. Or in a South America expy

Hugo should have warned them about this mega powerful long lived skinchanger from beyond the wall and how they shouldn't trust dreams because they can be manipulated and to stay away from weirwoods since he can watch them from it

maybe Hugo could learn more about skinchanging if he used a scientific approach since it's more psychic power than magic, he could try sensory deprivation since grrm always feature it in his other books

I wonder how him being a skinchanger teacher will affect the stark children especially Bran since he'll have Hugo as an option as the somewhat stereotypical Wizard Mentor instead of the horror that is bloodraven(the bloodraven school will have you eating people and be traumatised meanwhile the Hugo school are having a cook out and having fun)

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Hugo will warn them not to trust any three-eyed crows in their dreams. He'll try some experiments with skinchanging, like having his bonded orca Driver hop into his mind while he's awake and on land.
Hugo would be a better mentor than Bloodraven, mostly because Hugo demands tax breaks instead of attaching yourself to an eldritch tree that prolongs your life at the cost of mobility. Alt-Bran is going to foster elsewhere but when Ned learns of Hugo's abilities and mentorship of others, he'll consider having him give them lectures or a test to see if they have the gift.

 

[MasterOfDragonsGod]

I'm pretty sure it was a great council that changed the law that males come before females in the succession of the iron throne

 

[kaizerfox]

Interlude: Malora

Castle Warg, Mid-Seventh Moon, 286 A.C., One Week later…

Malora POV…

I walk through the stone hallways of Castle Warg's Main Keep, my eyes drinking in every detail of this curious place. A castle barely built five hundred years ago, yet by looking at worn foundations, one can gleam its older history. In a way, the castle mirrors its residents, the Seastarks. A cadet branch younger than the Freys, yet tied to the ancient House Stark. I glance at a pair of paintings, the first is of a lord in Stark colors winning a victory in battle against the Ironborn. The second is of a wedding, the same Stark man, now flying the Seastark banner, marrying a redheaded woman wearing a cloak bearing a mailed fist.

"They show the founding of House Seastark…" My unasked question is answered by the dirty blonde-haired man I'm currently walking with, my betrothed Jonos Slate. "…If you look at the wedding with House Glover, you can see House Slate in attendance." Sure enough, when I look closer at the wedding guests, I can see a lord and lady bearing the grey and white colors of House Slate mixed in with the Fishers, Mormonts, and Wolfswood clans.

"Interesting…" I mumble. "…What is House Slate's relationship with the Seastarks?" I ask my betrothed, who along with Lord Seastark, has been gracious and patient with explaining the inner politics of the North. He smiles at me with warm brown eyes.

"At first, House Slate looked upon the young cadet branch with a mix of curiosity for our new neighbors and mild contempt for their house's youth. Then the Seastarks found amber a century or so after their founding. With the discovery of amber came the growth of Wolfsport, and from there came the growth of the Sunset Fleet that changed everything. With the protection of the Sunset Fleet, Ironborn reavings that were once as commonplace as thunderstorms, now happen once or twice a century. Our lands began to flourish under this protection and we have forged closer ties to the Seastarks since." He answers politely as we continue our walk through the castle. The next painting I see is not of any glorious battle or decadent feast, but rather of a smallfolk family gathering around a table for a supper of vegetable stew and bread. The family's meager wealth could be seen in their wooden bowls and utensils, with the cramp living conditions feeling both cozy and claustrophobic in the warm orange glow of the hearth.

"What's Blackpool like? I would like to hear about my future home." I ask and his smile grows softer at the mention of Blackpool becoming my home.

"Blackpool Castle is as large and imposing as this castle. Built thousands of years ago out strong granite stone, it was our royal holdfast when the Slate Kings clashed with the Fisher Kings for control of the Stony Shore." Jonos explains and I scrunch my face in confusion.

"Then why is it called 'Blackpool' and not 'Gray Granite'?" I inquire to his amusement.

"There's a nearby stream where salmon swim up to spawn. It runs through the peatlands surrounding the castle and town, turning the water into a dark, blackish color." I nod at his words.

"What about the nearby town that shares the same name?" "A small, but thriving trade town about a tenth the size of Wolfsport. The soil in our lands is poor for farming but good for grazing so much of our wool is gathered in Blackpool for the local Weavers Guild. Blackpool also trades from our plentiful stone quarries and iron mines in the eastern hills." Jonos says with pride.

"It sounds like Blackpool is already thriving. Though from what Lord Seastark has mentioned, it is set to prosper even more from your dealings with his house." Jonos nods at my words.

"Aye, when spring comes, we will help build the Stony Road that will connect Blackpool to Seastark, Fisher, and Ryswell lands. Our port will be expanded with a quickstone quay similar to the one being constructed in Wolfsport and you shall skinchange with the local pod of spotted whales to help our fishermen." I blush at the casual mention of my gift, still not use to people knowing about it after keeping it secret for so long. I'm prevented from replying by a man's voice calling out.

"Ah, there you are! I was just looking for you two!" We turn to find Wyman Seastark coming towards us with an excited look on his face.

"What is it goodbrother?" Jonos asks curiously.

"I'm to escort you to the docks in Wolfsport. The winds and seas are calm enough for you two and the fosterlings to meet the pod!" His words cause a jolt of excitement to run through me. "…My cousin has already spoken with Driver and informed the pod of your situation. You will meet and form a temporary bond with Orca, Driver's mother. She will teach you about spotted whales, how they can work with people, and give you experience with skinchanging into whales." My smile widens further at the chance to finally skinchange into a spotted whale.

"You have my thanks, Lord Wyman. Please, lead the way!" I say with giddiness creeping into my voice. My future goodbrother just laughs it off and we make our way to get dressed in winter furs. Jonos makes conversation with his goodbrother about his niece and nephew, three namesday old Arsa and three moon old Bennard. As we walk I wonder to myself what being under the sea is like…

Later…

The mink-furred ushanka keeps my head and ears warm despite the bitter cold. The winds are thankfully calm on a rare sunny day, causing the small rowboat to gently rock with the sea.

With me are my brother Humfrey and the three other fosterlings, Tyrion Lannister, Patrek Mallister, and Asher Forrester, Marwyn the Mage, and Lord Seastark. My brother and his friends were discussing amongst themselves whether or not they had any skinchanging dreams yet. Which is ridiculous, they just received their hatchlings two days ago! Lord Seastark revealed his secret to the fosterlings and gave them baby ravens to look after and bond with. If they have the gift, they'll begin to have dreams with their bonded raven. If not, then Lord Seastark has another option, though he hasn't revealed what that is.

"I'm going to skinchange into an owl!" Asher states boldly, despite not having any dreams yet. The boys begin discussing what beasts they would skinchange into. Humfrey says a spotted whale, whereas Patrek wants a sea eagle. Tyrion's odd choice is a leviathan, because it's the largest beast in the world.

"I wouldn't try to skinchange into a leviathan Tyrion, it different than even whales and primates. Leviathans, like dragons, are magical in origin, and thus much more perilous to skinchange into!" Lord Seastark warns Tyrion with a grim voice. The boys stop their bickering to listen to their foster father.

"Magical in origin?" I ask, curious what he meant by that.

"I can answer that…" Marwyn cuts in. "…When the Great Empire of the Dawn existed thousands of years ago, it's rulers learned blood magic. Whether from the Deep Ones or the Children of the Ifequevron, it is unknown which. With this terrible knowledge, they created two magical beasts, dragons, and leviathans. Dragons came first, born from the mixture of fire wyrms and wyverns in what is today the Shadowlands. Leviathans were made sometime later from the mixture of whales and sea serpents in Leviathan Bay." Marwyn explains to everyone but Lord Seastark's shock.

"Dragons and leviathans have powerful minds due to their magical origins. This makes it incredibly difficult just to enter their minds, and even if one manages that, their minds could easily be overwhelmed, turning the skinchanger into the skinchanged!" Lord Seastark adds and I'm floored by this knowledge of history and skinchanging I never knew. The boys look fascinated by the history lesson, especially Tyrion, who begins to speak only to be interrupted by what sounds like a loud exhalation of breath. Everyone turns to head to see a pod of eight spotted whales swimming right for us.

"Ah, there they are!" Lord Seastark says as they approach closer. He points his finger out to the pod. "You see the two with the much longer dorsal fins?" He asks us. Sure enough, two of them have much larger and longer fins on their backs. One as tall a man and the other a little bit shorter. "That's how you can tell the males and females apart, the males will be bigger and have larger dorsal fins compared to the females. The two males of the pod are Driver, with the slightly shorter fin due just reaching maturity at ten namedays. The other is his uncle, Shamu…" Lord Seastark continues to point out the different members until they swim up to our boat. One of the males, Driver, sticks his head out of the water next to the boat and makes a high-pitch noise that sounded happy.

"Hey there Driver! How're you and the pod doing?" Lord Seastark asks the spotted whale and pets its head. To our surprise, Driver responds to the lord's question with another squealing-like noise.

"That's good to hear. Anyway, I got some people for the pod to meet!" Lord Seastark says with a smile, somehow able to understand it's noises.

"Wait, can you truly understand him?" Marwyn asks the question on everyone's minds after seeing the interaction. Lord Seastark chuckles.

"Aye, but only Driver. When you fully develop a bond, you and your whale will be able to understand one another but only each other. Driver can understand me when I speak but he won't understand you." Lord Seastark says, looking at me when he says the word "fully".

I feel disappointment that I won't be able to do the same with Driver's mother. Driver himself makes a happy noise only for another spotted whale to breach it's head above the surface. They look at us, as if searching for someone before their gaze landed on me. I don't know how, but I knew I'm looking at Orca.

"And this is his mother, Orca." He introduces immediately after I thought that. The older spotted whale looks at me intensely with it's brown, human-like eye, as if peering into my soul before making a series of sounds that Driver repeats, causing Lord Seastark to nod his head.

"You're in luck, the pod is going fishing today and Orca will take you're going with!" He translates and excitement bubbles up within me again. "Just some quick ground rules, when you're in Orca, she's in charge. She's actually not going to let you control her until she both thinks you're ready and trusts you. Think being a passenger on a cart with Orca the driver, so just sit back and enjoy the ride!" I nod my head fiercely, feeling like a young girl about to get a gift. Suddenly I feel a pull coming from the spotted whale and next thing I know, I gazing back at the boat with the occupants in total awe except for Lord Seastark. He says something to them but it sounds like gibberish before laying down. Orca brings me underwater and I'm thrown under the murky water. I take a moment to observe the "mindscape" I found myself in. I'm seated in the front of a horse drawn carriage next to the driver but there are many strange additions. The first is there were no horses, second, the front was covered in a small wooden roof with wooden pillars. Between the pillars was incredibly clear glass, the kind you could only purchase in Myr, allowing me to peer out into the sea. The final change is a curtain that divides me from Orca and a gut feeling gives me the impression it would be a terrible idea to try to open it.

I refocus my attention to the underwater world around me, seeing six spotted whales swimming around the boat conversing in their strange language. I was initially skeptical of Lord Seastark's claims that spotted whales communicate in full tongues but the more I listen, the more I realize he may be correct. If that was true, then mayhaps his claim that like men, they developed separate, unintelligible tongues might be as well.

I see Driver swim by with milky-white eyes before an older spotted whale called the pod. They surround who I assume is the matriarch of the pod, Old Gladys. She proceeds to say something and an vision of the pod surrounding a school of salmon flashes before my mind. Before I can comprehend it, a second one flashes, the pod herding the school of salmon into a large open net held across two fishing boats. As I wonder what those visions were, the pod sets off in an unknown direction and I enjoy looking out at the surreal setting I find myself in. I see large schools of fish, seals, and sea lions swim away from the pod and kelp forests down below.

Old Gladys suddenly makes a strange noise that sounds like a creaking door and then says something in her "normal" tongue. Orca flashes an vision of a salmon, silver on the bottom, blue-green on top with black spots peppering it's back and tail. I realize it's a northern salmon, a breed a fish that Lord Seastark claimed were their favorite, to the point of refusing to eat other breeds of salmon. Fortunately, the nearby Salmon River is a large spawning grounds for the northern salmon.

We continue to swim and encounter a large school of salmon, thousands in number when Old Gladys say something and like a command, the pod begins to spread out and surround the salmon. Several of them, including Driver, start making the same creaking door noise from earlier. The salmon react by moving away from the noise, slowly becoming herded closer and closer together. Orca finally makes the strange creaking noise herself and light bursts out in a wave, surging forward and enveloping everything in front of it. When the salmon are hit by this light, it reflects off of them, making them quite shiny and noticeable. As the fish move away from the creaking, I notice it not only shows fish but what kind of fish, allowing the spotted whales to distinguish between fish species.

As I'm mesmerized by the display in front of me, I remember Lord Seastark describing spotted whale behavior a few days ago. He mentioned something about "echolocation" or "seeing through sound".

Is that what I'm witnessing?

The pod continue to heard the salmon into a perfectly round sphere and begin to herd them forward like shepherds with their flocks. Soon enough, a wide net comes into view and the salmon ball is placed next to the net. Driver peels off to the surface and slaps his tail twice before swimming back down. The net suddenly tightens at the signal and envelops the salmon ball and the spotted whales surge forwards with frightening speed. They line up on one end of the salmon and the net stops just short of touching the pod, trapping the salmon between the net and the spotted whales. With nowhere to go, the salmon were easy pickings but Orca and the others only ate the northern salmon and let the others go.

After a few minutes of gorging themselves, Driver once again, separates himself to swim to the surface. He slaps his tail twice and the pod moves away and the net tightens to completely envelop the salmon ball. To my shock, despite eating what felt like an endless number of northern salmon, the net appeared roughly three-quarters full. Orca swims to the surface to join her son and peers her head out. I'm greeted by the sight of fishermen bowing their heads and tossing dead northern salmon in the direction of Orca and Driver. The rest of the pod joins us in poking their heads out and eating the gifts of gratitude from the fishermen. When finished, Old Gladys makes a high-pitched noise and the pod repeats it before descending beneath the waves.

As the pod swims, I wonder why the pod would choose to do this. It's obvious why the fishermen benefit, but do the spotted whales gain as much? As if sensing my question, a pair of visions flashes before my mind. The first shows the pod shepherding a salmon ball, taking turns slapping the fish with their tails to stun them before eating. The pod eats their fill but it is an exhausting process. The second shows a pod hunting a humpback mother and her calf, showing how perilous it for them. A sharp, barnacle-encrusted fin slices one of the spotted whale and the humpback's massive tail swings down like a hammer and hits another so hard, the blow kills them, their lifeless form sinking into the inky abyss. The pod ultimately succeed in their hunt, but the price is steep for whale tongues. I notice in both visions there were no humans.

Just as I think that, two more visions present themselves. The first shows the pod doing the same task I has just witnessed, herding the salmon into the fishermen's nets and feasting. The pod is shown full and well rested. The second image shows a sharp difference. The pod herds the humpback mother and calf towards the surface where whalers meet them with harpoons. The whalers fight and distract the mother while the pod easily corner the isolated calf, holding it down. With it's blowhole unable to get air, the calf drowns as the mother is skewered by harpoons. The pod eat the tongues of the mother and calf and swim away with no injuries, full of energy for the next hunt. I nod my head in understanding.

I then ask Orca what would happen if the fishermen and whalers broke the agreement. A vision of spotted whales capsizing fishing boats, biting the rudders off of cogs, breaching their bodies and slamming into the oars of galleys, and swimming faster than a clipper at full speed. I hear a high-pitch sound come form the other side of the curtain and for the first time I understood what a spotted whale said.

"Break not, the Law of the Tongue!"

I felt a shiver go down my spine when I understood it and could only nod my head. If such a thing were to happen to Oldtown… I knew my father and the city would ultimately prevail, but the local pod of three dozen would wreak havoc on the Hightower fleet along with trade company and merchant shipping for weeks.

I decided to change the subject and ask her if she knew any spotted whales in Blackpool or Oldtown. I get a confused poke from through the curtain in response. I decide to change tactics and try to communicate with visions, showing a map of Sea Dragon Point, marking our location. I show nearby Blackpool on the Stony Shore and then pull out to show the entirety of the western shore of the Seven Kingdoms. Oldtown proudly marked at the mouth of the Honeywine.

A vision of Oldtown's location on my imaginary map is accompanied with a feeling of confusion but Blackpool gets recognition. A vision of two pods, one with eight spotted whales that I recognize as Driver, Old Gladys, Orca, Shamu, and Driver's younger sister, aunt and two cousins. The second is a pod of a dozen spotted whales that I don't recognize but assume are native to Blackpool. The vision changes to just Old Gladys and the matriarch of the other pod. It shows their lineage, revealing they're cousins through their mothers. I'm delighted by the revelation and send her a vision of me skinchanging into one of the spotted whales in the Blackpool pod, then a second one of the same pod helping fishermen and whalers.

A wave of excitement nearly overwhelms me and I realize its coming from Orca. A vision of Orca, Driver, and Old Gladys speaking with the Blackpool pod and getting them to agree flashes in my mind. I graciously bow and thank her for her aid, promising not to break the Law of the Tongue. Her response is another series of spotted whale noises.

"You go now. See again later!"

Just as I absorb the words, I feel an intense pull and I suddenly sit up on the rowboat gasping for breath.

"Sister! Are you alright!" A concern Humfrey sits next to me, hands hovering near me, ready to help at a moment's notice. Lord Seastark stares from the other side of the boat, his usual grin accompanied by a knowing glint in his eye. I nod my head and am bombarded by questions from the boys.

"What's it like?" "What did you do?" "Did you really help the fishermen catch those salmon?" Asher, Tyrion, and Patrek ask in rapid succession. Out of the corner of my eye I notice Marwyn ready to write in his personal journal. I got a peak into it once, only to find it written in a strange script of lines and triangles arranged into strange shapes. When Marwyn caught me, he just laughed and asked if I could read the Salloshi dialect of Sarnori. When I told him I recognized Sarnor but not the name Sallosh, he explained it was once a city on the northeastern shore of a lake, with a river running north to the Bay of Tusks. Known as the "City of Scholars" with a great library envied around the world before it razed by the Dothraki during the Century of Blood. It's ruins now bare the name Vaes Athjikhari, or "City of Sickness" due to the city's many healers.

"I didn't do anything but let Orca take me on a journey…" I explain everything I experienced as Lord Seastark rows us back towards the docks. I finish my underwater tale when we reach the docks.

"It sounds like you had fun." Lord Seastark chuckles, finally saying something as he helps the boys off the boat.

"You were right." I confessed as I grabbed his hand to step onto the docks, looking him in his intense blueish-gray eyes. The same eyes that always seem to have the answer to everything. "Skinchanging into a whale is nothing like a raven. And if whales are like that… I don't want to imagine a leviathan." I say with a shiver. His face becomes grim as he helps Marwyn up.

"Aye, you must, under no circumstances, ever try it. Leviathan minds are even stronger than whale minds and they will drown you. There are stories of fools who attempted such a feat only to be driven mad or worse, possessed." Marwyn adds as he stands up on the docks and Lord Seastark is the last to join us. The docks empty save for some guards at the end, reserving its use to us for the day. Horses are there waiting for us.

"I won't." I say with a fierce nod.

"So, Orca said the pod will aid you in convincing the other pod in Blackpool?" The lord of Castle Warg asks.

"Yes, apparently the matriarchs are cousins." I answer and he ponders something for a moment.

"The pods are close enough to understand each other but distant enough that mating won't result in inbreeding. I can convince the pod through Driver to swim to Blackpool during your Old Golds wedding there after your wedding in Oldtown. There they can help you forge an agreement with the Blackpool pod and form a bond." He says and I can scarcely believe it.

"Thank you, Lord Seastark. Truly. You've shown me a whole new world and will aid me acquiring my own pod. How can I ever repay you?" I say breathlessly as we walk towards the end of the dock. There, we mount up and begin to trot through the city.

The boys chatter excitedly amongst themselves over what they'd do with a pod of spotted whales at their disposal. Humfrey would have them aid the fishermen of Oldtown and Asher would take them with him on Sunset Trade Company expeditions. Tyrion would involve them in some ridiculous scheme to grow taller and Patrek would use his to invade the Iron Islands.

"Help build up House Slate in any way you can, whether it be forming a bond with a spotted whale, bearing children, or assisting in administering Blackpool. That and being a bridge between myself and your father." He says solemnly and I nod in a heartbeat. "Oh, and some books would be nice, Tyrion's already read everything in my small library twice!" He adds and I can't help but laugh.

"Of course, what kind of books are you interested in?" I'm curious to know what a lord like him would want to read.

"Oh, you know… Books on the Long Night and rise of the Night's King. I'm quite intrigued with that era." A queer topic in reading material but I tell him I can convince my father to gift him a few books from the house library.

"Splendid!" Lord Seastark says happily. "Let's get back to the castle. I think we've all earned some nice, hot, Northern spiced mulled wine!" His declaration earns cheers from the boys for a drink I've never tried. We continue through the streets of Wolfsport, its white marble and gray granite buildings idly remind me of home but on a smaller scale. The city, even swelled by thousands of people seeking warmth and shelter in winter, is only a fraction the size of Oldtown. Despite the size difference, Wolfsport feels as busy as home. The docks teem with merchant ships and fishing boats; the shipyards working tirelessly to construct new clippers and galleys. We walk by a cannery full of people working, the same kind he wishes to build in Oldtown as part of his canning company, a shop full of perfumes and corsets, and further down we pass by a street with several thriving brothels. Further still is the Summer Islander trading post where the smell of spices wafts pass our noses even in the bitter cold. Wolfsport may be smaller, but the city has everything Oldtown has, and then some as I gaze towards the metalworks after they pass through the Wolf Gate.

"I am fairly generous with my knowledge, Lady Malora. Many would say too generous. But there are some secrets I wish to keep for myself." Lord Seastark says without looking at me, somehow sensing where my gaze lingered. Either that or he looked back while I didn't noticed.

"I understand Lord Seastark, you've been more than generous with the knowledge you've given House Hightower. We shall never forget that and will always see you and your house as friends." I say with conviction. Lord Seastark smiles at my words and continues to ride, beginning a conversation with Marwyn. I turn my gaze to Castle Warg, where my betrothed awaits inside. A man I met only recently and do not love. Not to say he is a terrible man, quite the opposite! He has that Northern gruffness about him but has acted as distinguished any Reachman courting a lady. He's a man whose still a stranger but I could see myself eventually finding love with him. And if marrying a man I could potentially love is the price I have to pay to get myself a pod of spotted whales, I'll happily pay that price…

A/N: This was originally going to be longer with multiple POVs but the Malora section ballooned and I decided to cut it off here.

The "salmon ball" is based on a hunting technique done by orca pods in Norway, taught to them by Hugo via Driver.

Hope you guys like my worldbuilding with the leviathans being on the same level as dragons (or at least close) and created through blood magic. I did it to add an eldritch nature to dragons and leviathans.

Hope you guys enjoy!

 

[Wolffils]

Incredible chapter. First Malora POV I have ever read for any ASOIAF fic, so kudos for that friend. She's really an obscure character that has a lot of potential plotwise. Curious to see where she's going.

Never seen skinchanging described in such a way, especially into an aquatic creature. You really get the sense these whales have a community almost and structure. Cool that this pod is cousins with the Blackpool pod.

Leviathans ain't no joke. I wonder what other animals of this world are inadvisable to skinchange into?

 

[ATP]

Thanks for chapter.If we have war in future, Hightowers here would support Starks.Or,at least,do not fight them.

 

[kaizerfox]

Incredible chapter. First Malora POV I have ever read for any ASOIAF fic, so kudos for that friend. She's really an obscure character that has a lot of potential plotwise. Curious to see where she's going.

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Thanks for the kind words! I can't imagine I'm the first person to write a Malora POV, someone has to have done it before. I agree she has so much potential plotwise because we know almost nothing about her, only that she's called the "Mad Maid". I suspect she'll have a big role to play when Euron attacks Oldtown in TWOW (whenever that comes out).

Never seen skinchanging described in such a way, especially into an aquatic creature. You really get the sense these whales have a community almost and structure. Cool that this pod is cousins with the Blackpool pod.

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They're aren't really any fics out there that have skinchanging into an aquatic creature, as far as I'm aware. Orca pods have that structure and community because they're essentially one big family that does everything together whether it be swim, play, hunt, etc.

Leviathans ain't no joke. I wonder what other animals of this world are inadvisable to skinchange into?

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I'd say... Dragons, krakens, Old Men of the River (giant turtles found in the River Rhoyne), giant apes of Sothoryos (basically king kong) join the leviathan as the "big magical animal you shouldn't skinchange into". This is because of their minds are magical and this combined with their high intelligence, makes them mentally more powerful than the average skinchanger. The older/more ancient they are, the more powerful their minds are.
Whales are a tier lower along with the other primates, elephants, and basically any animal with near-human in intelligence, but not magical (except wolves, foxes, crows and ravens, they're a tier lower in intelligent animals).

Thanks for chapter.If we have war in future, Hightowers here would support Starks.Or,at least,do not fight them.

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Do mean the Seastarks? If so, then depending on how a possible civil war breaks out then the Seastarks would either be an ally or an enemy they make a gentlemen's agreement of "you don't attack my men and I won't attack yours".
If you meant the Starks, then they're probably going to be on opposing sides.

 

[abhays999]

I'd say... Dragons, krakens, Old Men of the River (giant turtles found in the River Rhoyne), giant apes of Sothoryos (basically king kong) join the leviathan as the "big magical animal you shouldn't skinchange into". This is because of their minds are magical and this combined with their high intelligence, makes them mentally more powerful than the average skinchanger. The older/more ancient they are, the more powerful their minds are.

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GRRM actually talked about this in some convention and confirmed that all the animals in Westeros (or entire Planetos, I don't remember which) are magical. So I don't think there's anything special about a dragon that protects them against skin changing, not anything that we know of right now at least, canonically speaking.

Anyway, great chapter man. Loved it.

 

[kaizerfox]

Interlude: The Queen

Red Keep, Mid Tenth Moon, 286 A.C., Three moons later…

Lyanna POV…

"Your grace, it's time to wake up."

I jolt awake and open my eyes to stare up at the wooden canopy where pale white bed hangings descend, surrounding the bed. A deep and dreamless sleep, as thankfully I haven't had a nightmare in years. By habit I glance to my right to find the spot next to me empty. A consequence of Robert's habit of waking at the crack of dawn to spar with Ser Barristan.

I sit up and stretch my arms, letting out a loud yawn before pulling off the covers and leaving the warmth of my bed. I'm greeted by two young maids, who help me into a black-laced white corset. The blasted things have become quite popular with the ladies of the Red Keep ever since that bitch, Princess Cersei wore one in court a few years ago. Now it's expected of a lady to wear one and I'm forced to wear one to maintain appearances.

The maids then dress me in a low-cut, long-sleeved woolen dress in the Baratheon colors in a style popular in the North that many ladies have mimicked. Silver diamond earrings, and a silver necklace in the form of a direwolf's head made of diamonds with a singular piece of blue amber for its eye, a recent namesday gift from Robert, are put on me by the maids. The only gold on me is the small, sapphire-encrusted crown sitting atop my head marking me as queen of the Seven Kingdoms. I walk out the door to be greeted by Ser Mandon Moore of the Kingsguard, he bids me good morrow and escorts me as I walk through the halls of Maegor's Holdfast. We pass by a painting of a young stag and wolf exploring the beautiful valleys of the Vale as an old falcon perched atop the Eyrie watches over them.

I had it commissioned by a well-renown, if eccentric Braavosi painter named Finzen Vango in an effort to bring life to these mostly barren walls. It was well-received by Robert for his nameday gift and Lord Arryn for his bonds with my husband and brother. Ser Mandon and I pass by the royal portraits of Robert and I, painted by Finzen before I got pregnant with Argella.

A problem I never expected to deal with as queen was what to do with the larger number of dragon paintings and Targaryen portraits. Robert had all portraits with the Mad King and Silver Rapist burned and the remaining paintings with dragons, either beast or human, stripped from the walls of the Red Keep. He even had the dragon skulls removed from the walls of the throne room and stuck in a dark, dank cellar. Put in charge of decorating Maegor's Holdfast for the past few years, along with hiring the Braavosi painter, I brought in many hunting trophies from the North to indulge Robert's love of hunting.

We pass by the pelt of a unicorn from Skagos, an amusing nameday gift for Robert after he told me a childhood memory fostering in the Vale. He and Ned apparently argued over the existence of unicorns when they were younger and I decided to prove my brother right.

I'm pulled from my reminiscing when I reach Cassana's room. Ser Mandon opens the door and I find a young blonde wet nurse named Lynda breastfeeding my youngest daughter; raven black hair, gray-blue eyes, and over five moons old.

"How is my newest wolfdoe?" I ask softly.

"Feeding well, your Grace. She may have been born a bit on the small side, but since then, she's been feeding ravenously and gaining weight." The Lynda replies with a tired smile.

"That's good to hear." I say with palpable relief.

My pregnancy with her was difficult, her birth taking much out of me. I feared she would be a sickly child but it seems those fears were unfounded as I watch her suckle from the teat of the wet nurse.

"The grandmaester will come by to check her condition…" I trail off as I meet the wet nurse's brown eyes. A look of understanding flickers in her eyes and she nods her head.

"I'll be here when he arrives, your grace." She answers softly and I breathe a little easier knowing Lynda will be there. I don't trust the doddering, old grandmaester. The man opened the gates for the Lannisters to sack King's Landing and his near-constant, stuttering praises for Lord Lannister and Lord Seastark only further convince me not to trust him.

I dismiss Lynda with a nod and leave Cassana to her feeding. Ser Mandon and I make our way further down the hall to Argella's room. Just as I reach her room, the door swings open and an elderly maid steps forth holding my one-and-twenty moons old daughter. Her grayish blue eyes matching Cassana's but her hair differing, Stark dark brown instead of Baratheon ebony and dressed in a small blue woolen dress.

"Mama!" Argella squeals excitedly as she reaches her arms out for a hug.

"My little sweetling." I walk forward and take Argella from the arms of Lollys, the grandmother of Lynda, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. Argella giggles happily.

"The little princess is doing well, your grace. I was just about to get her something to break her fast. A bowl of porridge mixed with honey and berries from the glass garden you ordered built." Lollys explains and I snort.

"It still stuns me that the dragons, with all their wealth, never thought to build a glass garden in the Red Keep. We would have built one as large as the one in Winterfell if it weren't for the Myrish raising tariffs on their clear glass." I grouse at the greedy Myrish, throwing a tantrum over us eliminating them as middlemen to trade with the Summer Islands. It doesn't help that Tyrosh and Lys have raised similar tariffs on various goods, some of which like jewels and spices can be replaced with trade company activity in the Summer Islands. Others like clear glass and purple dyes, specialties of Myr and Tyrosh respectively, are harder to replace.

"Even still your grace, the kitchen staff are thankful for fresh fruits and vegetables in winter. It's what sets the stags and wolves apart from the dragons in our eyes, they seek to improve not just themselves, but those around them. Even us smallfolk!" Lollys praises, her old, worn teeth and gums stained red from chewing sourleaf. She's told me some of her horror stories of her time serving the Mad King and I take comfort that the serving staff much prefer Baratheon to Targaryen rule.

"I may be queen, but I'm still a Stark. We know better than anyone how harsh winter can be, on both the highborn and smallfolk alike. Even a small glass garden goes a long way." I say as I bounce Argella in my arms. "Alright, my little wolfdoe, it's time to break your fast but you'll see your father and I after court." I give Argella one last kiss and hand her off to Lollys, as she's still too young to dine with us at almost two namedays old.

My kingsguard escort and I continue our journey to the dining room, passing by Robert's favorite painting. The very same one painted by Lucos of Flea Bottom of the three-headed dragon being slayed by a stag, direwolf, lion, falcon, and trout. I know it's my husband's favorite because every time he walks by it, his smile widens without fail.

Soon enough we reach the dining room and the maid opens the door for me. I walk through the mahogany double-doors to find a long table with porcelain plates and teacups, silver and gold silverware, and golden candlesticks on yellow silk tablecloth. Robert sits at the head, muscular body hidden underneath a heavy black and yellow tunic, stag and direwolf of the royal sigil sewn on the chest. A golden crown shaped like a stag's antlers atop his head, charcoal hair still sheening from sweat. No doubt from his early morning spars with Ser Barristan, who himself stands in the corner nursing a teacup of kofi, greeting me with a smile and bow. My husband's bright blue eyes light up when they land on me and he finishes taking a sip of kofi, placing the teacup on the table. A smile forms on his square jaw, covered by a black short-trimmed beard.

"Good morrow, my king." I greet him with a curtsy before I extend my hand. He grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles, avoiding the silver wedding band on my ring finger.

"Good morrow, my queen! How're the wolfdoes fairing?" Robert asks, using our pet names for Argella and Cassana as I let go of his hand and take a seat next to him on his left.

"Argella is well and Cassana is feeding ravenously, putting on a healthy amount of weight." Robert nods at my words.

"Good. I knew Cassana would recover, she's strong like her mother and her namesake." Robert says, relief palpable in his voice. Cassana's namesake being his mother who died along his father Steffon Baratheon in a shipwreck within eyesight of Storm's End right before Robert left for the Eyrie. "How have you been recovering since her birth?" He suddenly asks softly.

"My body has more or less recovered. Grandmaester Pycelle may have said it will be another two moons before I am ready to try again, but I can start tonight if…" My words are cut off by Robert placing his left hand on my right hand and interlocking his fingers with mine.

"If Pycelle says we wait another two moons, then we wait. I won't risk your life simply because I'm impatient, my wolf queen." I feel love well up within me at Robert's words.

"But Robert, don't you want a son and heir?" I ask breathlessly and he gives a humorless laugh.

"Of course I do! But we're still young and have time. I fought a war to get you back, Lyanna, I'm not about to lose you to the birthing chamber." I squeeze Robert's hand at his warm words.

To be perfectly honest, I haven't fully recovered from Cassana's birth, but mayhaps in two moons my body will be ready. I want to give him a son, not just because it's my duty but because I've come to love him after Argella's birth.

Well, that and I don't want that bitch Cersei to put her son on the throne.

Robert pulling his hand away from mine pulls me from my thoughts as a servant places a plate of eggs, bacon, black pudding, sauteed onions and a grilled tomato grown from the glass gardens.

Accompanying it is a small teacup filled with kofi, the bean-based drink from the Summer Islands that has quickly become the drink of choice for lords and ladies. Next to the teacup is a small serving bowl filled with sugar, an expensive import from Leng and the islands of the Jade Sea. I grab the teaspoon and put in one teaspoon into my kofi before stirring it a few times. After a moment, I bring the teacup to my lips but pause to take a whiff of its aroma. The potent, but pleasant scent waffes through my nostrils before I blow on the surface to cool it down. The first sip is still scalding hot but not painfully so, the bitter taste of the kofi dances with the sweetness of the sugar. The second sip sends a wave of alertness through my body, shedding what little drowsiness remained and leaving me ready for the day ahead.

When I place the teacup down on the table, a servant in yellow approaches from my left holding a round wooden cylinder.

"Black pepper your grace?" The servant inquires and I nod. He proceeds to hold the wooden cylinder over my plate and twist the bottom. A crunching sound is accompanied by small black peppercorn flakes falling on my eggs. After five twists over my food, I signal for him to stop. Black peppercorn is another valuable import from the Summer Islands made cheaper and more available to highborn due to years of trade. While spices like cinnamon and saffron were grown in the Far East and traded through the Summer Islands and the Free Cities, black peppercorn is native to the Summer Islands. Before the founding of the trade companies, it was acquired through merchants from the Free Cities, mainly Myr, Tyrosh, and Lys. But now the Royal Trade Company buys directly from Summer Islander princes, cutting out the middle man to the Three Daughters' fury and lowering the price of the luxury.

I savor a few bites of scrambled eggs, the flakes of black peppercorn enhancing the flavor when the doors on the other side of the room and maids escorting two young girls, both bearing my husband's inky black hair and deep blue eyes. I recognize them as the "Royal Bastards" Mya Stone and Bella Rivers, both formally greeting us with a curtsy. They were here because they were old enough, along with Shireen, to dine with us. Argella, Myrcella, Cassana, and Joffrey were all too young to dine with us, with Myrcella being a few moons older than Argella and three moons old Joffrey no doubt being fed by a wet nurse.

I stamp down a surge of resentment at seeing Bella, knowing it's not her fault Robert bedded a whore during battle while I was locked up in that damn tower. I see her glance anxiously at me but instead of letting my feelings be known, I put on a fake smile. She looks relieved at my smile and I feel relief she's too young to see through it.

My eyes shift to Mya and I'm unsure how to describe the mix of feelings swirling within me when I look at her. I feel the same resentment towards her as Bella, but noticeably weaker. Diluted by the knowledge that she'll one day be betrothed to my little winged wolf. When I gave Brandon to Ned to be raised in Winterfell, I made a promise to myself.

If I can't raise my son, then I can at least raise a good wife for him.

Ironic, since it was Mya's birth that made me doubt Robert in the first place and want to wriggle out of the betrothal. I feel a pang of a mix of hatred and self-loathing as Rhaegar's smiling face flashes in my mind before I shake myself out of it as Robert continues to devour the plate of eggs, bacon, black pudding, beans, mushrooms, and sauteed dragon peppers. The small, fiery orange peppers are difficult to obtain in winter but I suppose there are some benefits to royalty.

After a few bites of egg and black pudding, the double doors open again and a herald announces Prince Renly. The nine nameday old prince greets us and takes his seat next to me to my left, with Robert to my right at the head of the table. Argella sits in a wooden high seat to my right . The servant places a porcelain plate full of food and a teacup of kofi. Renly grabs the sugar and puts in two teaspoons into the teacup before stirring. He blows to cool down his drink before taking a sip and humming with contentment.

"Renly…" Robert's voice causes his younger brother to straighten up and give him his full attention. "…I've decided to make you my cupbearer, starting today. When you turn two-and-ten, you will squire for Ser Barristan." Renly's bright blue eyes light up at Robert's words.

"Truly!? I'll get to squire for Ser Barristan the Bold!" He turns his head around and peaks over the side of his chair towards the knight in question, who gives a small smile.

"Indeed, Prince Renly, the honor is mine. When the time comes, I will take you and your friend Lord Monford Velaryon as my squires." The aged knight takes a sip of his kofi and Robert cuts in, causing Renly to face him again.

"Aye, Ser Barristan will make you a skilled knight and you'll need to be one as Prince of Dragonstone. The Narrow Sea Houses will be your bannermen but some may harbor sympathy for the dragons and I'm counting on you to be a strong Prince of Dragonstone. Can you do that for me?" Robert looks Renly in the eye, who nods his head enthusiastically.

"I will, brother! I'll be the best cupbearer, the best knight, and best prince in the Seven Kingdoms!" Robert laughs at Renly's words and my mind drifts about the Velaryons.

Lucerys Velaryon, former Master of Ships to the Mad King, fled to the Stepstones with a dozen ships at the end of the rebellion to carve out a living in the Stepstones. In the eyes of the crown, he forfeited his titles of Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark, passing it to his trueborn son Monford. It was fortuitous that both he and his bastard brother Aurane Waters were both captured in Driftmark and Robert had them brought to the Red Keep to be his wards. Monford being the same age as Renly and Aurane being a year younger have caused them to develop a growing friendship between Renly and his future bannermen. Of course, their father, despite losing his titles, seems to have carved out a small kingdom for himself in the Stepstones. Last I heard, he was consolidating Bloodstone, uniting all but one island in the Stepstones. They only reason Robert hasn't gone after him is because the Rogue Seahorse hasn't attacked any Westerosi ships sailing through his waters.

"…Got a Small Council meeting after I finish my meal and you're coming with me to start your cupbearer duties! I won't lie to you Renly, like all meetings, it'll be boring. The only interesting thing we'll discuss today is what to do with Isle of Sunstone." The mention of the one island in the Stepstones outside the Rogue Seahorse's grasp draws me back to the conversation.

"Have Lord Swann and Ser Davos fully taken the island?" I ask about the fleet sent to capture or kill the pirate lord Bloodbeard, who had made Sunstone the base attacking Royal Trade Company ships.

"I received a raven last night. All of Sunstone is ours and Bloodbeard's head on a pike. Now the question is what to do with it." Robert confirms.

"You should keep the island as a possession of the Iron Throne, you only rule King's Landing and Summerhall directly and could do to expand your domains." Robert carefully contemplates my words.

Summerhall is a ruined castle in the heart of the Stormlands slowly being rebuilt after a fire destroyed it nearly three decades ago. Once a direct domain of the Targaryens, it fell to Robert after the rebellion and has since been used to store barrels of wyldfire transported from the capital and will be used to test the farming inventions crafted by Lord Seastark.

"Aye, I've been considering doing that. I'm also thinking about who should govern in my name…" Robert is cut off by the mahogany double doors opening, with the bane of my existence and her four nameday old brat strutting in like peacocks. Princess Cersei Baratheon, or as Lysa and I call her The Blonde Bitch when no one is around, wears a black and red long-sleeved woolen dress while her daughter has a similar dress in black and yellow. The low cut of her dress showing off cleavage from her fuller breasts. I notice gold diamond earrings sparkle, a golden ruby-encrusted tiara, and a large golden necklace with three pieces of jade around her neck, a recent gift from her uncle acquired in Yi-Ti she's shown off to everyone in court.

The Sunset Trade Company's successful expedition to the Far East has been the talk of all the lords and ladies of court ever since the Citadel sent a translated copy of a map of Ulthos, several exotic pelts, and a strange weapon called a "fire lance" to Robert a moon ago. The wealth acquired through sugar, jade, silks, paper, and spices has drawn everyone's attention but the fire lance sparked a storm of debate when it was demonstrated by acolytes from the Citadel a week ago.

It was tested against a thick breastplate of castle-forged steel, the small metal ball fired heavily denting but failing to pierce. Lords continue to debate it's potential on the battlefield, with some Lord Rykker seeing them as the future of warfare while others like Lord Royce see them as flashy gimmicks. Robert doesn't seem to know what side to take and is more interested in using the fire lance to hunt boars and other dangerous game. I'm unsure of them myself but Cersei bragging that Lord Seastark has one and is seeking to create an improved version has left me scrambling to write to my brother and Lord Dustin to find out more.

I'm taken out of my thoughts when Cersei takes a seat to Renly's right, her daughter sitting next to her.

"I received a raven from my brother in Casterly Rock yesterday. He writes of the opening of Lord Seastark's canning factory in Lannisport. His new company has a contract with my father to supply the Lannister fleet and trade company ships with canned food for their voyages." Cersei says with a smirk, her green eyes meeting mine when she mentions the Seawolf.

One of the things I loathe about her is she goes out of her way to praise or mention Lord Seastark whenever she can, as if she knows how uncomfortable I get at the mention of his name. It doesn't help that her husband is good friends with the Lord of Sea Dragon Point and that the Lannisters and Seastarks continue to deepen their bonds.

"Canned foods? For ships? Sounds like something Stannis would be interested in." Robert comments absentmindedly before cutting a piece of spiced sausage and eating it.

"Oh, I have no doubt my husband will want an expansion in King's Landing to service the Royal Fleet when he gets back any day now." Cersei responds demurely before a servants place plates of food in front of her and Shireen. A cup of fresh milk is placed in front of Shireen while a teacup of kofi is placed in front of Cersei. She grabs the sugar pot and puts two teaspoons into her kofi before stirring.

I feel my heart clench at the thought of the Seawolf expanding his reach in the capital. At least more than he already has through the Wayfinders Guild and its new Guildmaster, Dagwell of Wolfsport. Promoted after taking part in what is being called the "Morosh War" with Ser Edric Seastark, I have no doubt he works as Lord Seastark's eyes and ears in the capital. So far, his tenure as Guildmaster has been marked by the introduction of warden's decks and a board game called checkers for sale. Both selling like hot cakes amongst the sailors, fishermen, merchants, and residents of Flea Bottom.

"Stannis will be happy to meet his son. He might even smile!" Robert japes and Renly laughs.

"Indeed, Joffrey might have my looks but he's surly like Stannis." The blonde bitch says with a slightly mischievous grin. "What are your plans for the day your grace? I'm having tea with Lady Chelsted, Lady Blount, and Lady Slynt. We're tasting green tea purchased by my uncle from Yi-Ti!" She brags and I pretend to look impressed.

I idly note the ladies she's meeting are from the western Crownlands and are from houses located on or near the Gold Road, soon to be paved this coming spring and summer. No doubt attempting to bring them into the Golds.

The Golds have a solid grasp over the lords and ladies of the Stormlands, Westerlands, western North, western Riverlands, and the southern half of the Reach. My Silvers hold sway over the Vale, the northern Reach, eastern and central North, eastern Riverlands, and Dorne. The Crownlands, in contrast, has been a political battlefield between Cersei and I competing for support amongst the Crownlords, whom themselves are greedy, fickle, and always looking to curry favor or get the best deal. I make a note to myself to meet with more Crownland ladies to gain support for my Silvers. Mayhaps I will shore up support from the Stokeworths and Rykkers? Or Mayhaps I'll try to sway the Rosbys and Stauntons from the Golds?

"I and my ladies-in-waiting will be having kofi and cakes with Lady Arryn and ladies of the Vale." I explain. I catch Shireen chatting happily with Bella and Mya out of the corner of my eye before her mother's disapproving glare puts a stop to it. Seeing the royal bastards disappointed, I flash them an encouraging smile that they return. Despite my misgivings about them, Mya will marry Brandon and Bella could potentially be used against Cersei.

"That sounds lovely." Cersei lies with a sickly-sweet smile. The only reason we aren't sniping at one another is because both our husbands forbid it in their presence.

The blonde bitch drones on about the wealth House Lannister gained from the Sunset Trade Company's Jade Sea expedition. I ignore her as I continue to eat. Robert glances at me before speaking .

"Jon and I are thinking of sending a trade expedition to the Jade Sea come spring." Cersei and I eyes widen at the next venture of the Royal Trade Company being aimed toward Yi-Ti. Not that I oppose it, cutting into the Sunset Trade Company's share of the Jade Sea trade can only be a good thing in the long run.

"A wonderful idea, dear husband! Ser Wendel could lead such a voyage as the Manderlys have a silver mine near White Harbor!" Robert perks up at my praise. The blonde bitch is quick to try undercut me.

"Indeed, a wise idea your grace, but I think Ser Endrew Tarth would be a better fit for leading the expedition." Cersei says, proposing that Lord Tarth's cousin lead instead.

"Ser Wendel is more than capable…" I'm cut off by Robert.

"I'll decide who leads when the time comes." He says decisively, nipping our brewing argument in the bud. The meal continues with an awkward air, our uneasy truce of idle talk forced by Robert's presence.

"Goodsister," Robert addresses Cersei. "Your father purchased a clipper from Lord Seastark, correct?"

"Yes, my fathered paid twenty galleys worth of gold for the Swift Claw but in his words it was 'worth every gold dragon'." Cersei gloats while Robert and I's widen at the price. A single ship worth twenty galleys!? Robert looks conflicted at the price and while I can see the use of acquiring a clipper for House Baratheon, I'm loathed to give even more gold to Lord Seastark. The bastard is already getting rich enough off his trade company and tax breaks from my brother.

"You think he'll gift one to Stannis for free?" Robert asks half japing. Cersei shrugs.

"Mayhaps, but I doubt it. Lord Seastark hasn't gifted any and when he does sell, he will no doubt demand either a large sum of gold or some kind of concession like tax breaks." She explains and I frown. So much for a free clipper.

The meal continues with the clanking or forks, sips of kofi, and idle chatter about the recent blizzard that hit a week ago. It amuses me that Southroners consider this a normal winter. In the North, this would a mild winter as there's only a foot of snow on the ground for Old Gods' sake! Soon enough Robert and Renly finish their meals and excuse themselves to go to the Small Council meeting. I quickly excuse myself to meet with Lady Arryn, not wanting to be in the same room as the blonde bitch any longer than I have to…

Later…

"Did you hear Lord Hayford fathered a bastard with a Summer Islander whore on the Street of Silks?" I glance over to the right and see the Lady of Runestone Cissy Royce, wife to the Master of Laws Lord Yohn Royce. A lady of dark hair and eyes wears a silver necklace with rubies and sapphires from Lotus Port and a low-cut, long-sleeved bronze-colored dress in the Northern style.

"Aye, I heard when he acknowledged the brown bastard as Duncan Waters and brought him back to Castle Hayford, his wife was furious!" Giggled the younger Lady Bethany Umber nee Flint of Widow's Watch, wife of Captain Farlan Umber of the Goldcloaks. She takes a sip of kofi but nearly spills some on her Northern dress in Umber red and brown. I glance over to the left.

"Is it true Lord Uller betrothed his daughter to a Summer Islander prince?" "Aye, heard it was to forge an alliance between the Dornish Trade Company and the Isle of Birds!" I nibble on a lemon cake as I listen to gossip between the young Lady Kella Redfort, third wife of Lord Redfort and Lady Deana Grafton, the blonde-haired, blue-eyed maiden daughter of Lord Grafton. Lady Deana is one of my ladies-in-waiting along with Lady Bethany, Lady Kyra Karstark, Lady Sharra Belmore, and Lady Elinor Rykker. Deana, Sharra, and Elinor are all of-age and yet to be betrothed and any of them would be a good match for Ser Wendel.

"I heard Lord Seastark has the Mad Maid as his mistress in Castle Warg!" My friend Lady Lysa Arryn drags me out of my thoughts, her belly swollen with child before she takes a sip of kofi.

"Aye, why else would he keep her there as she waits to be married in Oldtown? Her betrothed, Jonos Slate, is only in Castle Warg so they can hide it!" The fierce voice of a pregnant, redheaded Kyra Karstark nee Swiftfoot, wife of Captain Creegan Karstark of the Goldcloaks responds back. The ladies are dressed in low-cut, long-sleeved woolen dresses in the Northern style in their respective house colors, Kyra's of black and white and Lysa's of blue and white.

"What do you think your grace?" Lysa asks me and I see ladies-in-waiting Kyra, Sharra, and Deana along with Lady Eylanna Waxley lean in to hear my response.

"While I haven't heard of anything scandalous happening in Castle Warg, it wouldn't surprise me if such a thing was occurring." I answer carefully and the ladies giggle. I change the subject, feeling uncomfortable talking about Lord Seastark's deepening ties with the Hightowers as flashes of the Ser Gerold Hightower, the White Bull flash in my mind.

"You heard the prince, hold her down!" Suddenly I'm back at the Tower of Joy, arms of the Kingsguards roughly grabbing me and forcing me onto the bed as Rhaegar looms over…

I shake my head and banish the terrible memory.

"How has the pregnancy been treating you, Lady Arryn?" I ask, taking a sip of kofi.

"The same as the last one. The only difference is I'm drinking kofi instead of wine." Lysa responds.

"The Summer Islanders say that drinking wine during pregnancy is unhealthy and that kofi is better for expecting women!" I explain and see Lady Deana agree while sipping her kofi while Lady Kyra frowns while holding her pint of black beer.

"With all due respect your grace, a good pint of black beer does wonders for Northern ladies with a bun in the oven!" She exclaims with a grin before taking a sip.

Lady Bethany catches everyone's attention by clearing her throat. "My brother, Lord Flint of Widow's Watch is looking to foster my nephew Robin Flint..." She trails off and I perk up immediately.

"Your brother wishes to foster his heir with a Southron house?" I inquire and she nods. My eyes survey the reactions from the Vale ladies. Some like Lysa, Lady Waxley, and Lady Cobray look on with disinterest but I see Lady Redfort, Lady Royce, and Lady Waynwood look intrigued.

"Yes, your grace. He thinks it'll do Robin some good to foster with a First Men house of the South. It did good for your brother and his grace, did it not?" Lady Bethany asks.

"Indeed, my husband speaks fondly of his time with my brother in the Eyrie and I have no doubt he will look fondly on your nephew's fosterage in the Vale. Lady Redfort, didn't you tell me the other day your husband was looking to foster?" I see Lady Redfort look surprised at me addressing her but she recovers quickly.

"Indeed, he is your grace and I'm sure he'll be happy to foster the heir to Widow's Watch. I'll be sure to inform him of Lord Flint's offer and they can sort out the details. How old is Robin Flint?" Lady Redfort asks Bethany, who answers that he is nine namedays old and they begin to speak amongst themselves when Lady Royce takes control of our conversation.

"Speaking of fostering, my third son Waymar wants to join the Night's Watch ever since a wandering crow visited Runestone to gather prisoners condemned to the Wall. My husband wants him to join the Royal Trade Company but he's adamant for an eight nameday old boy. He's thinking of fostering him somewhere in the North so if he truly decides to take the black, he won't have to travel far." She says to our surprise.

"Oh, dear! Young Waymar would be miserable, freezing at the Wall being attacked by wildlings! Better for him to earn gold and glory in the Royal Trade Company!" Lady Waxley, a short, pudgy, dark-haired woman a decade older than me, wearing silver earrings with blue amber that match her eyes. I take a bite of my lemon cake.

"That's what my husband said! But my poor boy is enamored with the idea of gaining honor by taking the black and neutering his future! He's too young to see that he can do so much more for himself and our house by joining the company!" Lady Royce points out the reason for fewer highborn taking the black, already a slim number. Why waste your life freezing at the Wall unable to take a wife or father children when you could join a trade company and gain wealth and prestige?

"It is not dishonorable that Waymar wishes to take the black, quite the opposite! The Night's Watch, despite being a shadow of its former glory, is still an honorable order that defends the realm from the wildling menace!" I cut in and grab everyone's attention. Except for Lady Redfort and Lady Bethany, who continue to discuss details of a potential fosterage. "That said, if Lord Royce wishes to foster him in the North then mayhaps somewhere close to the Wall like Karhold would work…" I trail off and look at Lady Kyra, who grins.

"I can write to my goodcousin in Karhold. I'm sure he'd be delighted to foster young Waymar!" Lady Kyra beams at me before facing Lady Royce. "He'll raise the lad to value the Royal Trade Company and his potential place in it. If he doesn't at the end of his fosterage and still wants to take the black, Karhold isn't too far. That and he'll find out if he can handle a Northern winter!" She finishes with a jape that the ladies politely laugh at.

"I'll be sure to discuss the possibility of Waymar fostering in Karhold with my husband, though I doubt he'd be opposed. He'll write to Lord Karstark about the details." Lady Royce says and she and Lady Kyra begin discussing details. I smile to myself at the seeds of deepening ties between the Vale and the eastern shore of the North being planted, desperately needed to counter Lannister influence on the western shore.

I ponder a raven from Lord Dustin received a few moons ago. He wrote of Lord Bolton agreeing to have his heir Domeric serve as his page in Barrowton but was looking to foster him in the south. I search the ladies around me for a suitable place for the heir to the Dreadfort to foster. Mayhaps with the Graftons of Gulltown or the Rykkers of Duskendale? Or mayhaps have him as a ward of Robert here in the Red Keep? Robert wouldn't mind having a squire from the North as to him, knighthood is about feats, not gods…

"Goodsister, have you heard about the strange tales coming out of Wolfsport? Of fishermen working with spotted whales as if they're dogs?" Lysa interrupts my scheming. While she and I aren't direct goodsisters, we use the term with one another to denote the closeness of our friendship to the court. To Robert and Jon's enjoyment.

I'm prevented from replying when the door opens up and a servant in the Baratheon colors steps into the room.

"Your grace, ladies…" The young red-headed servant greets us with a quick bow. "…Prince Stannis and the expedition have been sighted in Blackwater Bay and are expected to arrive soon! His grace has requested you and the ladies attend his welcoming in the Great Hall." The servant informs the table, who react with excitement at the news. Some, like Lady Redfort, look anxious to see her son, Ser Jasper Redfort, A newly matured man facing getting his first taste of battle in Morosh.

"Thank you, you can inform his grace that we're on our way." I dismiss the servant, who quickly leaves the room as I finish my kofi. The ladies and I make to travel from Maegor's Holdfast to the Great Hall…

Later…

I sit upon the queen's throne, overshadowed by the lumbering, metal monstrosity known as the Iron Throne. My eyes glance across the sea of lords and ladies, all hanging off of Prince Stannis' every word about the Royal Trade Company's expedition to the Shivering Sea and the Morosh War. I spy Lady Redfort smiling tearfully at her son, Ser Jasper being safe and called out by the prince for his achievements.

"…When the call to aid Morosh rang out, two thousand knights and men-at-arms in answered the call, including House Seastark and their Seawolves!" The courtiers cheered and I feel uneasy at the mention of the Seawolves, fierce warriors clad in leather armor trained in fighting on land and sea. "Two hundred were lost to fighting and attrition, leaving us with eight-and-ten hundred fighting men. As promised in the treaty with the Lorathi, we left a garrison of one hundred men under the command of Arnolf Karstark, to guard the trading post and defend against another Dothraki attack. Another one thousand left for home with the spoils." I hear the court react to Karstarks being placed in another command. Lady Kyra Karstark smirks at her goodbrother's promotion and the silvers speak fondly while the golden courtiers mutter distastefully, more supportive of Cersei and Lord Seastark.

Prince Stannis just finished his account of the Battle for Morosh and their victory over the Dothraki. The lords and ladies applauded at the feats of men like Ser Wendel, who slayed Khal Motho himself in a duel. The Northern knight receiving many appreciating looks from the young maidens, including my three young ladies-in-waiting from the Vale, causing me to wonder whether to pair him with the Belmore, Hunter, or Grafton. Smaller houses like House Follard and House Baelish were celebrated, the young Follard heir receiving a knighthood for slaying some high-ranking Dothraki and Petyr Baelish for saving Ser Edric Seastark's life in battle.

I recognize Petyr Baelish as the fool who challenged my brother Brandon to a duel for the hand of Lady Catelyn. He lost easily, only being spared after my future goodsister pleaded for mercy. Lysa mentioned he recovered from the slash across the chest my late brother gave him and has been serving in the "King's Company" as some have taken to call the Royal Trade Company. When Ser Edric and Dagwell of Wolfsport arrived in King's Landing and told of the Battle of Morosh I was surprised when they spoke of Petyr saving Ser Edric and being owed a blood debt. A blood debt is sacred to Northerners and any attempt to exploit it by the one owed or wriggle out of it by the one who owes the debt is seen on par with a kinslayer. And yet, Lysa speaks highly of the man.

I see the Petyr off to the side speaking with his father, whose been beaming with pride since his son's feats were mentioned by the Prince.

"…And thus, we divided the spoils, a mix of gold coins, jewelry, wines, and many capture animals from warhorses to cattle like cows and sheep, to more exotic ones like aurochs and bison. We divided up the spoils, recorded who got what, and piled it onto ships heading back for King's Landing." The Prince of Storm's End addresses the court.

"Aye, I remember when the ships arrived a few moons ago. It was hectic having to manage all the livestock and horses but the spoils were sorted accordingly and well-received." The Hand of the King seated across from me at the base of the Iron Throne, Lord Arryn speaks up and a flurry of whispers envelops the court.

"I got two breeding rams of good stock for my personal herd of sheep!" "Bah, that's nothing! My house received two massive bison! It isn't a breeding pair but if I can find someone with a breeding bull…" I catch two Crownlords under the royal banner whispering about the war spoils, just one of many in the sea of conversation flowing through the Great Hall. While it might not be the bounty the Sunset Trade Company acquired in it's expedition, the spoils from the Morosh War are still well-received by the courtiers. Many recognizes the value of good cattle or horses, especially for free.

"The two black stallions from the Khal's own personal herd are powerful and well-bred. My wife and I are grateful for your gift, brother. What happened next?" Robert chimes in, mentioning the stallions that were in currently in the Royal Stables, waiting for us to ride them in Spring.

"We sailed east, stopping in the capital of the Omber Kingdom, Omberdam and met with their ruler, Koning or King Dieter of House Vandyk. A tall, pale, and cautious king who rules a land where he and the local princes pay the Dothraki a yearly tribute in gold, drink, and girls to prevent their wrath. He allowed a trading post in Omberdam but refused any garrison, fearful of incurring the Dothraki's wrath. The Dothraki horse lords have heard of our victory at Morosh and are said to have become hostile to the 'men from across the poison water'. When he hosted us for dinner of smoked bison, delicious aged cheese from a town called Edam, and pea soup, the koning showed something his people are proficient at, klok-making!" The courtiers react with confusion at the foreign word.

"What's a klok?" Asks my husband.

"It's an intricate machine that tells time! Here I'll show you. I purchased two, one for the Red Keep and one Storm's End. Put in the order before continuing the expedition, swinging by to pick them up on the way back." At the prince's words, the main entrance to the Great Hall opens up and four servants carrying large wooden box like structure with intricate carvings of sea life from starfish to dolphins.

It's over a foot wide and taller than a man. The main body has a gold pendulum facing down with a round end that swings endlessly to a consistent rhythm. The top has a circular white disk with three metal sticks of varying sizes sticking out from the center. The edges of the disk are divided into two-and-ten spaces with paintings of two animals in each section. When I investigated further, I realized the medium length stick was slowly moving to the left, sweeping around the disk and when it completed a turn, the longest stick, pointing towards the top to the left, moved a little bit to the left! When the courtiers noticed the same thing, I could he murmurs of disbelief and accusations of sorcery.

"It's not sorcery! See here…" Prince Stannis reaches his hand to the edge of the disk and unclasps a lock and opens the disk like a door. I peer inside to see a series interlocking cogs, moving at the same rhythm as the medium length stick. "…It's not magic, but a machine. They have the same four-and-twenty hour time system we do, but they have a strange custom of using the numbers one through two-and-ten to represent the hours instead of animals like us! So, I had the kloks modified to use our animals but had to place them two a piece in each slot…" The prince explains the how the klok works, the cogs and gears move the "hands". The prince then closes the disk and points to the sticks or "hands". The medium length stick or "second hand", a rotation around the disk moves the longest stick or "minute hand". Sixty minutes moves the minute hand around the disk, moving the shortest stick or "hour hand".

"By seeing at the minute hand almost facing the top and the hour hand facing the right toward the fox and wolf, we can tell that it is almost the hour of the fox!" As if on cue, the minute hand loves to the top, pointing directly upwards towards the ceiling.

Suddenly, a small door in the under the disk opens up and a tiny wooden man wielding a hammer and painted to look like a craftsman shuffles out next to a golden bell. The wooden craftsman strikes the bell three times before retreating back into the klok. Before anyone could react, bells could be heard faintly in the distance. The bells of the Great Sept of Baelor rung out three times before falling silent, marking the hour of the fox.

The court becomes a hive of discussion with some enamored by the intricate machinery, some voicing their disinterest, and most inquiring on how to acquire one. Robert didn't know what to make of it and neither did I. Soon enough, the klok is taken out of the Great Hall to be placed in Maegor's Holdfast and the prince continues his tale.

"We continued from the Bay of Tusks, stopping at Vaes Leisi on the coast of what is known as the Kingdom of the Ifequeveron, a massive forest larger than the Wolfswood and Kingswood combined. Said to be the home of the "Woods Walkers", kin to the Children of the Forest of our lands, they vanished thousands of years ago, leaving what the Dothraki give it its current, in Common Tongue: 'City of Ghosts'." Prince Stannis responds, the lords and ladies becoming intrigued by his descriptions of haunted grottoes and faces carved onto trees that weren't weirwoods. I and other Northerners note the similarities between the these Essosi Wood Walkers and the Children of the Forest. I wonder if they were once one people or were always separate.

"…Arrived at the Port of Ibben, a city nearly the size of King's Landing and full of traders from across the Shivering Sea, even saw merchants from far off Mossovy! The smell of whale meat and blubber was everywhere, all coming from the countless refineries in the city…" The courtiers mutter at the prince's description of the large, industrious capital of Ibben. Of it's narrow streets between buildings of brown oak and gray granite or the lively market located in the Outlander Quater where foreigners or "outlanders" are allowed to stay and trade.

"Did you meet with the shadow council that rules the land?" Lord Arryn inquires and Prince Stannis nods.

"Aye, we met with a delegation of a dozen magisters led by the powerful Magister Grug of House Crood. He had made a trade deal with House Seastark prior to our arrival and was eager to host us his personal manse built into a spacious cave outside the city. He gave us the official invitation needed for us to leave the Outlander Quarter…"

I remember Ser Edric when he was in the Red Keep. Typical Stark looks of tall, long-faced, and dark brown hair with bluish-gray eyes instead of the Stark gray. When asked about the trade deal with the Ibbenese, he was evasive on the details, only mentioning the sales of goods and an "understanding". I need to know more yet remain silent, deciding to find out after court.

"…In the end, the treaty was signed. The Royal Trading Company establishes a trading post in the Port of Ibben, next to the Outlander Quarter. Our merchants are granted with special privileges, including being allowed in the neighboring Merchants Quarter. And finally, the Ibbenese agree to cede their monopoly in the northern Sunset Sea to House Seastark as defined as the waters north of Pyke…" Surprised whispers echo across the Great Hall at word of the Seastarks' involvement.

A monopoly on whaling? Given to House Seastark? Is that what Ser Edric meant!? I search the crowd for Gold supporters and see they're as surprised as the Silvers.

I steel myself. "What deal did the Seastarks make with Ibben?" The court falls silent at my question. The prince's face flashes with surprise before answering.

"I know not the details, but I do know that the Ibbenese are not only ceding the northern Sunset Sea. Ibbenese shipbuilders were sent to Wolfsport!" My eyes widen and this got the court's attention.

"Oh, do you think Lord Seastark is building his own whaling ships? Like those of the Ibbenese?" I ask the prince in an innocent tone.

"It wouldn't surprise me, your grace." Prince Stannis says with a shrug. "Magister Crood told me his people rarely sailed as far as Wolfsport to whale. So, in his mind, it's only a small concession." and the court discusses the potential impact of a Seastark whaling fleet. Some discuss the Lord of Sea Dragon Point accruing even more wealth. Others talk of the size of Ibbenese whaling ships and how they could be used in war. I clench my jaw at Lord Seastark somehow benefiting more from trade with the Ibbenese than our expedition. Robert quickly silences the court. His brother clears his throat before speaking again.

"In return, the Ibbenese receive a trading post in King's Landing and a monopoly of whaling in the Shivering Sea except for whales caught within eyesight of the North, the Bay of Seals, and the Bite. They will tolerate us building a small whaling presence in the Narrow and Summer Seas but were staunch in maintaining their monopoly in the Shivering Sea." The court breaks out into a loud cacophony of mutters about the trade treaty signed with the Ibbenese. The Northern courtiers from the eastern shore voice their displeasure at essentially giving up whaling in their waters to the Ibbenese. I even see Ser Wendel look upset! I listen to the rest of the court's reactions.

"More Ibbenese in the capital!?" "How dare they limit us in the North!" "Aren't these corsets made of whalebone the Ibbenese merchants sell?" "Wonderful, my house already trades with them and this makes things easier!" "Do we even have whaling ships?" I struggle to make out who is saying what when Robert silences the court again.

"Brother, I gave you the full authority to make decisions and sign treaties in my name. The treaty will be honored by the Iron Throne!" He announced to the court before asking his brother. I glance over to Lady Kyra Karstark and Lady Bethany Umber along with a few other Northerners look to me pleadingly, in hopes that I can reverse this. I gave them a determined nod to soothe them while suppressing a sign as I wonder what to do to get Robert to change this, assuming it's even possible.

"What happened after the treaty was signed?" Lord Arryn presses on.

"We celebrated with a hearty meal of seasoned whale meat, seaweed, and shark-fin soup! Magister Crood even gifted us with the skeleton of a recently slayed leviathan over a hundred and twenty feet long!" Prince Stannis grins before the Great Hall's oaken doors open again, revealing a score of servants carrying a massive whale skull five-and-twenty feet long. A large jaw full of frightening huge teeth, each tooth nearly one-and-a-half feet long and seven inches at the widest cause the courtiers to whisper in fear and awe, struggling to imagine the beast this once belonged to.

Robert rises an eyebrow at the skull, then his brother, before grinning. "I like the way you think brother! It shall hang in the Great Hall! Better the skeleton of a leviathan than a dragon I say! We'll discuss how it'll be hung in tomorrow's council meeting." He dismisses the servants with a simple nod. The court reacts to the declaration with soft but excited whispers as the servants carry the monstrous skull out of the Great Hall.

"From the Port of Ibben, we sailed east pass Far Ib to Leviathan Sound, where the fleet witnessed a large, black Ibbenese whaling ship hunting a leviathan! Forty foot long rowboats with harpooners struck the great beast and were taken on what our Ibbenese translator called an "Ibbenese sleigh ride"! The boats were dragged by the leviathan to tire it out. When it finally did, the whalers went in for the kill, wearing strange helmets that cover their ears from the beast's extraordinarily loud death rattle. The rowboats and leviathan were mayhaps a mile away but everyone in the fleet heard it in their bones. Men's teeth clattered, chests vibrated, and some went temporarily deaf at the leviathan's death throes! Our guide told us if we were any closer, were would have needed protection for our ears, lest we go deaf." The prince's description of the hunt unnerve the courtiers.

My mind flashes to the leviathan skull that left moments ago, wondering what kind of men and ship were needed to hunt such a terrifying beast. Robert is enthralled, even if he looks a bit unnerved by his brother's words on the beast's volume. The lords who went on the expedition grimly nod their heads and murmur their confirmation with haunted looks.

"When the great beast was slain, our Ibbenese guide explained that the carcass is hauled to the ship, where they slowly but surely strip the whale of meat and blubber, boil the blubber in brick ovens on the main deck, and store the new whale oil in wooden barrels. When their ships are full of oil, usually after two or three leviathans or a dozen smaller whales, they sail back for Ibben with their haul." Prince Stannis explains.

"What happened after the hunt?" Robert asks.

"We headed for the city of Nefer while attempting contact with the natives of the Thousand Islands. Unfortunately, after a dozen islands of failure, we gave up. The strange hairless, green-skinned natives either fled into fortified towns or fired arrows at us. Eventually, we made it to Nefer, the only remaining city in the Kingdom of the N'ghai. Their kingdom has been reduced over time from constant wars with their kinfolk, the Jogos Nhai, who raid everyone east of the Bone Mountains. Whereas the Jogos Nhai are nomadic raiders akin to the Dothraki, the N'ghai are a settled people. The city is at the mouth of the River of Tears, the name given to the river where their destroyed cities lay in ruins. Partially built into a tall cliff facing the sea with a hundred-foot-tall granite walls, it can only be attacked by sea or a narrow route on land, sandwiched between the waves and the cliffs. We were cautiously welcomed by the Jhagar or king of the N'ghai. He seemed to be a weak king that presided over a divided court, split between its merchants and sorcerers, with the latter possessing true control. The merchants pushed for the jhagar to agree to a trading post but the sorcerers were against. They threatened to 'allow the miners to rest', which forced the merchants and ruler to back down. We're unsure what they meant by this but our guide claims that many of the sorcerers in the city are necromancers." A storm of whispers from the courtiers erupt at the mention of necromancers. I hear Pycelle harrumph and mutter something to himself.

"Necromancers?" The lord hand asks skeptically with a raised eyebrow. Prince Stannis shrugs.

"We never met the miners in question and no one saw any 'living corpses' but we were only there for two nights. The next day the Jhagar proclaimed we would be allowed to trade in Nefer for three days before being forced to leave on penalty of death. No trading post would be allowed but in the future, our merchants were allowed in the city under the same strict three-day rule. We were also gifted a breeding pair of zorses. We spent the day trading our goods, the N'ghai are rich in metals, particularly silver, dragonglass, and zorses captured from their enemies. Our guide mentioned that Nefer once traded silver with Yi-Ti to the far south but the Jogo Nhai cut it off in their conquest of the northern plains. The Yi-Ti valued the trade with Nefer enough to fight two wars with the nomads to reestablish a connection, losing both times. We left two days before our curfew. We piled the zorses and silver onto a few ships and sent them back to King's Landing with another three hundred men…" The court mutter about the strange beasts that showed up before the expedition's return. Bred as the offspring of a horse and a creature in Yi-Ti called a zebra by the Jogos Nhai and said to be fierce, hardy, and foul-tempered. There seems to be some truth to those words, if the unfortunate stableboy kicked in the jaw by the stallion's hind legs is any indication.

"…Remaining four hundred of us made it to the westernmost port of the Zardom of Mossovy, Kransygorod and were met with a small fleet of galleys. We waved the white flag of parley and met with local admiral After our guide translated that we were there to trade, we were let through. The city was the size of Gulltown, full with red-bricked buildings, narrow crowded streets, and crooked alleyways. The locals had seen better days; pale, starving, and distrustful of outsiders, they regarded us with wariness. I and a delegation including Ser Wendel Manderly, Ser Lomas Estermont, and Ser Lyn Cobray were taken to a red stone castle the size of Maegor's Holdfast. Ruled by the local lord or boyar, Dimitri of House Smirnoff hosted us with a humble dinner of smoked mackeral, radish soup, and pickled cabbage. The boyar explained the times of trouble his people had seen since the previous Zar, Fyeodor of House Gurik died without an heir. The throne was claimed by his brother, Prince Dimitri and his nephew through his sister, Boyar Mikhail Komanov and have battled for the past three years. In summer, fields were burned, wells poisoned, and cities put to the sword. In autumn, that continued but made worse by raids from the Jogos Nhai and nomadic tribes of the Grey Waste that devasted the borderlands, culminating in twin invasions that had the warring sides agree to a temporary truce to fighter the invaders. Boyar Komanov faced off against the Jogo Nhai and Prince Dimitri against the Grey Waste horde. Both lost, leaving the heartlands to be laid to waste as the harvests were being collected and the capital, Mossva to be sacked by the Grey Waste horde. Then winter came, the invaders left with their harvests and plunder, and both the prince and the boyar lick their wounds and regroup. Only the bounty of the sea and a small glass gardens prevent Krasnygorod from total starvation. When spring arrives, the fighting will return with if for the poor, unfortunate people of Far Mossovy." I see people go grim at hearing the fate of Mossovy. To have such an ill-timed succession war, then invasions from raiders in autumn leading to famine in winter. Only the Dance of Dragons can compare to such disaster!

"Boyar Smirnoff raised his banner for Boyar Romanov and fought against Prince Dimitri and the Jogos Nhai at the ill-fated Battle of Kursk. He collected the remnants of his levies and retreated to defend his home, then held out against a nine moon siege from the Jogos Nhai that only ended weeks before winter. With his people desperate for food, he purchased what little food we could spare for twenty times the price in King's Landing and agreed to a trading post. Knowing the ports further east would be as bad, if not worse than Krasnygorod, we decided finally head back." The Prince finished.

"D-d-did you acquire any m-m-maps on your journey, m-m-my Prince" The Grandmaester stutters and Prince Stannis shakes his head.

"No, we did not acquire any maps but Boyar Smirnoff told us the forests of Mossovy that hug the coast and the Grey Waste extend thousands of miles east until they reach the towering Shangri-La Mountains in the east and the Devouring Jungle to the south. Mossovi merchants that brave the treacherous waters of the eastern Shivering Sea speak of a hermit kingdom of warrior monks in the mountains that shield lands of Jo-Syon from the Grey Waste. They describe a point the size of Dorne jutting out into the Great Eastern Sea, divided by three warring kingdoms rich in metals and silver. Further east lie the five islands roughly the size of the Reach of the Westerlands combined. Ruled by the Kingdom of Neehon, a land also rich in silver full of feuding lords under a king said to be married to a nine-tailed fox woman! The merchants claim to have seen Yi-Tish treasure fleets sail the waters of Jo-Syon and Neehon 'exchanging gifts' of silver for Yi-Tish trade goods. The treasure fleets sail around Ulthos to get to these lands because the strong westerly winds make sailing east into the Saffron Straits incredibly difficult. The Devouring Jungle covers the southern shore of Essos east of the Shadowlands. Receiving its name from large, ancient, fused-blackstone cities like those of the Five Forts swallowed by the jungle, said to be built by the Great Empire of the Dawn. The jungle gives way to arid mountainous coastline in the south, were saffron is grown. The treasure fleets will then sail west to the Saffron Cities of Dai-Viet, Cham-Pa, and Ku-Mai that dot the shores of the Saffron Straits before sailing past Asshai to complete what the Yi-Tish call the Silver Triangle." Murmurs echo throughout the Great Hall at the first descriptions of lands east of Mossovy and the Shadowlands. Some of awe, some of skepticism and I understand. I mean truly, a nine-tailed fox woman?

"Then it truly is as Lord Seas-s-stark told Lord Gerion Lan-n-n-nnister, we live in an age of d-d-discovery! The C-c-citadel theorizes the world is r-r-round, and that one can sail west and r-r-reach Yi-Ti. Mayhaps this G-g-great Eastern Sea and the Sunset Sea are one and the s-s-same?" Grandmaester Pycelle stutters in a loud voice, capturing the attention of the court.

Surprised murmurs at the knowledge that one could sail around the world meld with lords muttering about the sheer distance, difficulty of supplies, and lack of maps such a voyage would entail. I idly wonder how long it would take to sail from around the world, starting and ending in King's Landing. I note the lords becoming increasingly enamored with sending an expedition to the Jade Sea with some like Lord Mooton proposing they go even further and sail the Silver Triangle. Ser Wendel argues they could sail the Shivering Sea across Essos to these distant kingdoms, then sail through the Saffron Straits to Yi-Ti and west from there. Lord Whitehead argues galleys and cogs won't be enough for such a voyage and that clippers would be better before Robert quiets the hall again.

"Brother, you've matched the Sea Snake's voyage to the Shivering, reaching Far Mossovy! Did anything happen on the return voyage?" Robert inquires and his brother nods.

"Two. The first was after retrieving the finished kloks in Omberdam, we sailed for Saath, a small city-state that is the last remnant of the once-mighty Kingdom of Sarnor. The Tall Men people of the city loath the Dothraki but are too small and weak to reclaim their lost kingdom. We were received by King Uruk of House Ur and his family. While they didn't have much to trade, the king heard of our victory and wished for a similar arrangement with his city, a trading post and a hundred men to aid against an attack by the horse lords." The Prince's words caused the courtiers to whisper amongst themselves wondering who was left in charge of the garrison.

"Who did you leave lead the garrison?" The Lord Hand asks.

"Ser Lomas Estermont was left as to lead the garrison when we sailed west to Lorath where it turns out much had happened while we were east. Ser Edric siring a bastard with Princess Nysha Ennarhan caused a betrothal between her the heir to House Mestir, causing the Prince of the Streets, Prince Qarland and Magister Gylus Mestir, the leader of the shadow council to publicly feud. Enlisting the aid of the other two princes, Prince Qarlan rallied enough support to overthrow the shadow council, forcing Gylus and his family into exile. The former magister took ten galleys from the Lorathi fleet with him. Last I heard, he's staying Tyrosh with his goodbrother, the current Archon Fabio Irnys, looking for betrothals for his son and daughter." The court is unsure what to make of the change in rulership in Lorath, some fear the instability could hurt trade, while others point out that the three Princes were more favorable to us than the exiled magister. Hearing the Mestirs flee to Tyrosh, some courtiers mutter distastefully at the Free City's name, a sign of the growing discontent towards the Three Daughters for their raised tariffs in autumn.

"It sounds like you had quite the expedition, brother! Wouldn't you agree, Lord Hand?" Robert turns to Lord Arryn with a grin.

"Aye, your grace. Five trading posts, including Morosh and the Port of Ibben! The Royal Trade Company truly has a solid foothold in the Shivering Sea!" The Lord Hand happily agrees. Robert gazes over the court once more.

"Men of the Royal Trade Company, hear my words! You have sailed the path of the Sea Snake and brought riches and glory upon yourselves! You have traversed freezing seas, fought Dothraki savages, and made extended our reach to dark forests of Far Mossovy! Take pride in your deeds, for I certainly do!" Robert booms and men of the expedition cheer, their voices echoing in the Great Hall. The courtiers soon join in and for a blissful moment, there were no Silvers or Golds, just one people celebrating success and appreciating returned loved ones.

I glance over to where the Small Council members were seated. I watch the Master of Whispers, Ser Eldon Estermont, receive a scroll from a servant. He unfurls it and reads. A moment later he shows the Master of Laws and the Master of Coin the scroll. Lord Royce's eyebrows shoot up and Lord Mallister's eyes widen before Ser Eldon quietly makes his way to the Hand, whispers in his ear before giving him the scroll. Lord Arryn reads it before standing up to face Robert.

"Your grace, word from the Stepstones!" The Hand announces and the hall falls silent. "The Rogue Seahorse, Lucerys Velaryon has declared himself King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea in Bloodstone Keep!"

The courtiers react to the unexpected news, unsure whether this is a fortuitous event or an ill omen. Some argue the Rogue Seahorse could be friendly, supported by his record of not attacking our ships. Others argued that with his strategic position where the Narrow and Summer Seas meet, he could levy a toll on all passing ships, harming trade with the Summer Islands.

"If the Rogue Seahorse wants to make his little kingdom, he can. He will be given this mercy for not attacking our ships. But if he wants to levy tolls, then he can negotiate with my Warhammer!" Robert declares to the cheers of the lords and knights. Lord Arryn, however, looks uneasy at Robert's declaration.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple, your grace. King Lucerys also announced his betrothal to Lady Delphine Mestir of Lorath, the of-aged daughter of the exiled magister, and niece of the Archon of Tyrosh, binding them in an alliance!" The Great Hall exploded into frantic mutters as the courtiers exchanged worried looks.

The thought of Tyrosh and this new kingdom holding the Stepstones and enforcing tolls fills me with dread. Relations with the Three Daughters has deteriorated ever since the first trade expeditions to the Summer Islands were launched and the thought of one of them controlling the Stepstones through a seahorse puppet has the court uneasy. Prince Stannis' face takes on a grave expression.

"This is a potential threat to not only our trade but the realm's peace. This new kingdom allied to the Tyroshi could sever the Seven Kingdoms in two with its fleet! We must negotiate with the Rogue Seahorse at once to eliminate any potential toll or at worst, reduce it." The prince's words stir up the lords and ladies even more. Robert exchanges a look with Lord Arryn before calling for silence.

"The Rogue Seahorse doesn't hold all the Stepstones! The Isle of Sunstone has been recently captured by the fleet commanded by Ser Endrew Tarth and Ser Davos Seaworth. The dastardly pirate lord, Bloodbeard was killed in battle and several of those enslaved have been recovered, including Ser Byron Whitehead!" Robert responds to his brother, yet partially calming the crowd. I see Lord Whitehead breathe a sigh of relief and whisper a prayer of thanks to the Seven that his brother, captured with three company cogs traveling from the Summer Islands with jewels, kofi, and spices. Prince Stannis himself looks relieved.

"That is excellent news, your grace. Sunstone is directly north of the of the tip of Dorne. If we hold that, we can sail in its waters and hug the Dornish coast. Thus, creating a narrow corridor to avoid sailing through the new kingdom…" The prince trails off and Robert picks up.

"Aye, let this so-called king levy his tolls, we will simply bypass them!" Robert booms and the courtiers cheer again, assured of uninterrupted trade. My eyes meet the Hand's and we both exchange looks, knowing that the Rogue Seahorse won't like that and will desire Sunstone to complete his small kingdom.

"I hereby proclaim that Sunstone will be incorporated into the Seven Kingdoms as a possession of the crown to be administered on my behalf by the Royal Trade Company! I name Ser Endrew Tarth as the first governor of Sunstone! He will be tasked with binding the island to the realm and fortifying it from attack." The court react to my husband's declaration with cheers, with the exception of the Stormlanders and Dornish, who grumbled, wanting Sunstone as a part of their kingdom.

"If that is all…" Robert glances at his uncle, the master of Whispers, who shakes his head. "…Then I hereby declare court adjourned. While it won't do to throw a feast in winter, what kind of king would I be if I host a welcoming dinner! Tonight, we will celebrate the company's success with a dinner of smoked auroch won from the Dothraki!"

The courtiers begin to converse loudly amongst themselves as Robert begins to descend the Iron Throne.

"Thank the Seven we conquered Sunstone; the spices must flow at all…" "I'm proud of you, son! You even got yourself a warhorse and…" "I want to show you a boardgame I bought in Lorath called Cyvasse…" "My cousin is serving in the garrison in Morosh…" "I can't wait to join the King's Company like my brother…" "I'm glad I purchased shares for my children; their worth has surely risen…"

Snippets of conversations from the mingling lords fly by my ears faster than I can comprehend them but soon enough Robert is beside me and extends his hand to me. I smile softly, taking his hand as he leads me to Lord Arryn. I glance over to see Prince Stannis speaking with his wife and the blonde bitch flashes a smug grin at me. Robert and Lord Arryn talk with Ser Eldon when I hear Lysa calling for me. I turn to see her walking up with a hesitant but smirking Petyr Baelish, coal black hair matching his thin mustache.

"Goodsister, have you met my dear friend Lord Petyr of House Baelish?" I stare at the Valemen, whose small smirk shrinks under my gaze.

"Not directly, but I certainly remember him in Riverrun when he challenged Brandon for Lady Catelyn's hand. On the day their betrothal was announced no less! My brother spared your life on her behalf, despite your insult to our house." I say evenly, narrowing my eyes at him. His smirk disappears into an awkward smile as he tenses up. His gray-green eyes grow distant and left hand grasps at his chest.

"Ah, yes… that day. You have my deepest apologies for my slight against House Stark, your grace. It was foolish of me to duel your brother. As what happened to him… While I can't say we parted on the best terms, he did not deserve what the Mad King did to him." Lord Petyr responds uneasily but his words seem genuine. My face softens into a more regal look.

"You are forgiven, Lord Petyr. As far as House Stark is concerned, the matter is closed. Now, Lady Arryn has told me this was your second voyage?" He loosens up at my words and his smirk returns.

"Indeed, it was your grace. My first was to the Summer Islands and it was quite the experience! I hope to go on more expeditions for the King's Company. I hear the Jade Sea is the next destination if the success of the Lord Seastark's trade company is any indication." I tense up at being reminded of everything Lord Seastark has gained. First wealth and a fire lance from Yi-Ti and now his apparent deal with the Ibbenese for shipbuilders. If his house didn't match House Stark's wealth before, they do now, possibly evening surpassing us to become the second wealthiest in the North after the Manderlys!

"I hear you've done well for yourself on this voyage." I change the subject to his war loot.

"Indeed, your grace. Some gold, two Dothraki warhorses, and three breeding rams for our modest flock. My father is excited because we've gained enough wealth to construct a small dock beside our little keep." Lord Petyr says, his gray-green eyes lighting up with pride.

"Petyr has been telling me about his plans to write to Ser Edric and start a correspondence." Lysa cuts in and I become intrigued.

"Oh, it sounds like you are becoming friends with Ser Edric." The Baelish heir nervously chuckles at my words.

"Ah, well I wouldn't go as far to say we're friends. We have a bond forged in battle and I wish to write to him to check in on him, hopefully establish a true rapport." He says with determination. I make a note of his plans for later for potential use.

"Ser Edric owes you a blood debt does he not? It's a rare thing for a Northmen to owe a Southroner." I comment

"Oh, mayhaps you could use your blood debt to get a clipper from the Seastarks!" Lysa proposes as Lord Petyr and I exchange a look.

"Unfortunately, it's not as simple as that. Blood debts are almost always paid in blood. But there have been exceptions. Lords in the past have given their daughters hands, granted land, or but only once was it paid by coin. Centuries ago, Lord Manderly owed a blood debt to his bannermen, Lord Waterman. He offered his daughter's hand or enough gold to turn his wooden keep on the White Knife into a small stone castle. Lord Waterman took the latter and Waterwood Keep became Waterstone Keep. While a clipper is certainly a valuable ship, one alone wouldn't suffice to pay the blood debt." I gently explained to Lysa.

Lord Petyr joins in. "Ser Edric told me that if one is to pay off a blood with a gift, it has to be of great value and it must to be theirs to give."

Understanding dawns on Lysa's face at our words. "I see, Ser Edric can't gift a clipper or two because they belong to his brother and not himself. Still, it means you can call him as your champion should you ever need it."

"Well, I haven't decided what to use it for, but for now I will simply hold on to it. One never knows if I'll need a Northern champion!" Lord Petyr japes. Lysa giggles as if it was actually funny while I give polite chuckle. I spy Robert finishing his conversation with his uncle and making his way over with Lord Arryn.

"Well Lord Petyr, keep me abreast of your correspondence and I believe you will go far in the company." Surprise flashes briefly on the Valemen's face as he catches my hidden meaning before glancing at Lysa, who nods eagerly. Her reassurance causes his smirk to widen.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind, your grace. I aim to serve the King's Company!" He says smoothly.

"Ah, there you are my lady-wife! Your grace, Lord Petyr of Baelish Keep." The Hand greets us walking alongside Robert. Lord Petyr bows and greets my husband, who acknowledges him with a dismissive nod before turning to me.

"My queen, let's go visit the wolfdoes before dinner. I haven't seen them all day!" Robert demands.

"A wonderful idea, my king!" I comply, wanting to see my daughters again before a dinner in the Great Hall.

He takes my hand in his and leads me out. I glance back to see Lysa and Lord Arryn continuing to speak with Lord Petyr. My eyes return forward to see Prince Stannis and the blonde bitch leaving for Maegor's Holdfast as well. No doubt eager to see his blonde-haired son of three moons. We're joined by Renly, who promises his friends Lord Monford Velaryon and Aurane Waters to see them at the dinner.

The three Baratheon brothers lead us out of the Great Hall. As we don winter furs, Prince Stannis tells Robert about a potent drink from Mossovy called vodka and how he bought a few barrels they could use for the dinner. Cersei and I narrow our eyes at one another but make idle chatter about the expedition. I stop myself from rolling my eyes when she talks of Lord Seastark's deal with the Ibbenese with a knowing smirk and I point out Arnolf Karstark leads the garrison at Morosh. She lets out a dismissive scoff before the icy wind hits us as we step outside causes her to shiver.

"What's wrong, Princess Cersei, feeling the cold?" I ask knowing the answer. "I admit to being jealous of you Southroners for having such warm winters. If the North had winters like this, we'd be richer the West and field larger armies than the Reach!" I feel the cold on my face, but it feels like autumn instead of winter.

"Oh, p-p-please…" She stutters from shivering. "…There's no way the North could ever match the wealth of House Lannister. You could have ten times the number with winters like this and still be dirt poor compared to us!" I bristle at her words and we continue to quietly snipe at one another before entering the warmth of Maegor's Holdfast…

A/N: Whew! This turned into a monster. I ended up just adding more and more until it turned into… this.

We see the trade companies having impacts on Westerosi life. The Royal Trade Company, or "King's Company" is becoming a royal institution, creating an alternate outlet for houses for gaining wealth and glory to battles and tourneys. Kofi is becoming imported, slowly becoming the sourleaf of the highborn and spices are cheaper than ever before. Even weaker lords and rich smallfolk merchants are getting easier access to spices!

Quick note on mixed race marriages and children: Westeros is obviously based on medieval England and Europe, before colonization and the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade. While there is slavery in Essos, it's far closer to the slavery practiced in Rome than America. Westeros simply doesn't have any concept or equivalent of the "one drop rule" and will instead see them through their rigid class system. As long as they stick to their classes, (highborn marrying highborn, smallfolk marrying smallfolk), they're tolerated. Half Summer-Islander "brown bastards" will probably be treated worse than normal bastards while trueborns like Tyrone and Tynisha Lannister will be accepted by lords without a second thought.

We see a bit of Lyanna's life with her family, her rivalry with Cersei and the expedition's return. She might have mellowed out a bit on Lord Seastark due to distance but Cersei and the Lannister's connection to him means she sees his actions as supporting her rival. She's trying to forge alliances between the North and Vale to counter Lannister influence on the western shore.

Then this chapter really blew up and I realize I probably should have divided it into two chapters.

Some more worldbuilding, this time with the Shivering Sea and the eastern part of Essos. I made the Silver Triangle as an in-world excuse for why Yi-Ti doesn't trade much with the west, it's because their treasure fleets are all going east! Unlike to the west, they have a large steady source of silver to the east. Although now those strange, barbaric Sunsetlanders are showing up with fast ships and speaking of their rich silver mines might make them reconsider.

Petyr and Lyanna meet through their mutual friend and strike up a simple transaction, she uses him to spy on the Seastarks and he uses her for climbing the RTC ladder. While she's unawares of his lingering hatred for House Stark, she will keep him at arm's length because she won't fully trust him due to his history.

Tell me your thoughts on the worldbuilding and hope y'all enjoy!

 

[Jao]

I recognize Petyr Baelish as the fool who challenged my brother Brandon to a dual for the hand of Lady Catelyn. He lost easily, only being spared after my future goodsister pleaded for mercy. Lysa mentioned he recovered from the slash across the chest my late brother gave him and has been serving in the "King's Company" as some have taken to call the Royal Trade Company. When Ser Edric and Dagwell of Wolfsport arrived in King's Landing and told of the Battle of Morosh I was surprised when they spoke of Petyr saving Ser Edric and being owed a blood debt. A blood debt is sacred to Northerners and any attempt to exploit it by the one owed or wriggle out of it by the one who owes the debt is seen on par with a kinslayer. And yet, Lysa speaks highly of the man.

Click to shrink...

duel*

 

[ATP]

Well,Cersei would be Cersei.I bet,that she somehow manage to fuck everything in this version of Westeros,too !

 

[Origin6009]

Nice story definitely watched

 

[SaltySmile]

Thanks! I will spoiler one thing and say the SI won't bring gunpowder to Westeros and I personally don't like those fics. (Just a personal preference). Fireworks or bottle rockets could be a thing because I could see some version of that existing in Yi-Ti but not cannons.

Click to shrink...

Will there be in story reason for this? As while I understand meta reasons for why it is so. Without good explanation MC would be seriously shooting himself in the foot if he refused to get gunpowder for silly reasons. His life and future is on the line, and not chasing the easy victory when he hasn't agreed to a challenge run beforehand would be completely moronic. Fair enough if there is actual reason for this as lack of sulfur or something. Or maybe he doesn't remember the ingredients.

 

[kaizerfox]

Will there be in story reason for this? As while I understand meta reasons for why it is so. Without good explanation MC would be seriously shooting himself in the foot if he refused to get gunpowder for silly reasons. His life and future is on the line, and not chasing the easy victory when he hasn't agreed to a challenge run beforehand would be completely moronic. Fair enough if there is actual reason for this as lack of sulfur or something. Or maybe he doesn't remember the ingredients.

Click to shrink...

I've admittedly backtracked on the hard "no gunpowder rule" and am going for a early gunpowder era (fire lances, petards, etc.). It's just I don't usually like gunpowder in ASOIAF fics but some work. I think keeping it to early gunpowder works in keeping the "feel" of Westeros while still showing technological advancements. But that's just me.

Story reason is Yi-Ti the one introducing gunpowder dragonpowder to Westeros, not Hugo. The reaction in Westeros is a mix of "that's interesting" and "mayhaps we can use this somehow". Expedition to Yi-Ti couldn't get the nice Yi-Tish fire lances so they had to settle for the cheap bootleg ones from Leng. Hugo's currently got one of those Lengii fire lances and is trying to make a better fire lance. Hugo is going to monitor how dragonpowder develops and make sure he's always on the cutting edge.

Meta reason on guns: I (and therefore Hugo) are not firearms experts and have a pretty basic understanding. There are gaps in Hugo's knowledge like he knows the ingredients but doesn't know the proportions, meaning he has to trial and error to get the right combo. Sulfur would be the hardest ingredient to get since there's so few places that are specifically mentioned to be volcanoes or volcanic (Dragonstone being the only official one). I'd argue Skagos and the Northern Mountains could have sulfur because both have dragonglass/obsidian so the Northern Mountains can be Hugo's source.

 

[kaizerfox]

Chapter 26

Castle Warg, Mid-Twelfth Moon, 286 A.C., Two moons later…

I inhale the frigid Northern air through my nose before exhaling through my mouth, my breathe visible in the sun's rays on a rare sunny day in winter. The temperature outside is well below freezing as I poke my head over the top of the snow trench we've created. Nearly a man's height tall and deep, and reenforced with wood and earth. The snow on top glistens in the sunlight, the trench built from snow cleared away for a small testing range in this quiet corner of the castle.

Ten yards ahead, set up on a wooden stand, laid a ten foot long spear. It looked unremarkable except for the large iron tube attached just under the spear tip with a small fuse sticking out. According to Wyman and the Liu-clan merchants, my fire lance appears closer to the ones seen in Yin than the cheap bamboo knockoffs found in Leng. Four yards down the sights is a test dummy from the chest up in full plate armor atop a wooden stand and behind that, the castle walls to absorb any stray pellets. A servant stands next to the fire lance with a torch ready to light a fuse set to ten seconds.

I glance to my left to see Wyman, Edric, Maester Armond, and Commander Donnel in winter furs and ushankas. My maester looks to me.

"We're ready to test the scattershot, Lord Seastark! You may give the word." He says as a freezing gust of wind whips through the castle grounds. The old Stormlander doesn't shiver, having lived through several Northern winters.

I turn to the servant and fire lance again. "FIRE IN THE HOLE!"

The servant stiffens before lighting the fuse and sprinting back towards the snow trench, desperately trying not to slip on the cleared ground. I countdown the seconds in my head. After ten seconds, just as the servant makes his way into the snow trench, a sharp crack echoes through the courtyard. A flash of fire followed by a plume of smoke bursts from the cannister. Almost instantly, I see the armored target fall backwards onto the snow. Behind it, I see the stone walls struck by stray iron pellets. I look towards the fire lance again to make sure it's finished. After a moment of silence, I shout that the range is clear and we make our way over to the weapon.

"At least this time it worked!" Edric exclaims and I wince at the memory of the first test a few weeks ago that exploded. Thankfully, the long fuse gave the servant lighting it enough time to escape with only a few minor burns.

"Aye, and the fire lance is still intact, though the cannister is spent. Let's go check the armor!" Wyman says as we inspect the weapon. We walk to the plate armored test dummy, dressed in thick plates of castle-forged steel, simulating the armor a charging knight would wear.

"It didn't pierce." Commander Donnel states plainly, pointing to the dozen dents in the armor.

"True, while those dents would leave nasty welts or possibly break bone, the knight would live unless the fall kills him." My maester comments.

"Still powerful enough to unhorse a knight. Not to mention a horse is going to be less armored…" I tune out Wyman's response as they discuss the results. I assess the tiny holes in the walls to check their spread.

"Good spread. About a half dozen pellets hit the wall on either side of the armor. With the right angle and a bit of luck, one could hit two mayhaps three knights in a single shot." I point to the stone walls.

"Aye, but the range is still miserably short. They'd have to time it perfectly so the charging knights are close enough to hit. While I see some potential, I think these fire lances are too risky to use on the battlefield, Lord Seastark." Commander Donnel gives his opinion.

"I agree with Donnel, brother. Wouldn't it be better to take the dragonpowder, put it in a barrel, and use it to blow up a gate or a wall?" Edric asks and Wyman lights up.

"The Yi-Tish have something like that! I can't remember the name but it translated as 'dragon barrels'." Wyman says and I'm unsurprised the Yi-Tish have their version of a petard. "Only problem is importing dragonpowder from the Liu clan will be expensive. We don't have much powder left from the batch bought from Liu Wei." He continues.

"We should be able to make our own dragonpowder. The Lengii told you the three ingredients did they not?" I ask Wyman, who acquired the bamboo fire lance we based our version on in Leng Yi.

"Aye, but only for 'false dragonpowder', charcoal, sulfur, and something they mmake with urine and manure called 'saltpeter'. Charcoal is simple, sulfur can be found in the Northern Mountains, but the Lengii and Yi-Tish have refused to part with the knowledge of saltpeter." Wyman explains.

To my initial confusion, there's apparently two types of dragonpowder, 'True' and 'False'. False dragonpowder is one-to-one with black powder from Earth and is known for it's explosive reactions. True Dragonpowder on the other hand, has a less explosive punch, opting more for creating a highly flammable reaction to project a jet of flames. The true dragonpowder has an additional ingredient, but when I asked the Liu clan merchants, they proved to be tight-lipped about giving away 'Yi-Tiish secrets'. This is because true dragonpowder is only produced in Yi-Ti while the false strain is produced in Leng and the other Jade Sea kingdoms. Considering the expedition brought back fire lances from Leng, it's no surprise the fire lances worked on by myself, the Lannisters, and the Citadel are based on false dragonpowder.

"Strange, I've heard of saltpeter in the Citadel. Described as a rare rock found in limestone caves. Mayhaps some can be found in this land's few limestone caves?" Maester Armond responds.

"I'll send word to the cave divers that collect blue amber to look for any deposits of saltpeter. If none are found, we can still make our own but we'll have to learn through trial and error. Marwyn told me the Citadel is hard at work trying to figure it out themselves and I have a few ideas of my own we can try after the wedding in Oldtown. Now let's test the scattershot filled with dragonglass pellets!" I declare and the servant unstraps the spent cannister and straps on a new one with a yellow painted dot.

We make our way back to the snow trench and soon enough I'm giving the order to fire again. The servant lights the fuse and we brace ourselves as he sprints towards us. The fire lance bellows even larger flames then the first test with an accompanying louder crack. To my surprise, I see the armored dummy and wall struck with dozens of smaller pellets.

"Strange, I thought the brittle dragonglass would shatter in the explosion." "Aye, it even birthed a larger flame!" My maester and commander echo my thoughts as we moved forward to investigate the carnage.

"Well, Marwyn told me of an ancient war between the Great Empire of the Dawn and the Old Ones, with accounts of warriors 'firing frozen fire'. It's where I got the idea for this." I say when we reach the fire lance.

Well, that and I'm hoping for a potential weapon against wights and the Others.

The fire lance seemed fine, with the iron cannister spent so we sought the armored dummy.

"It struck the armor with smaller fragments in greater numbers but failed to knock it over." Edric sums up the situation. My commander nods at my brother's words and points at a small dent in the breastplate.

"Like the iron pellets, it failed to pierce. Not only that, but struck with less force. May I speak freely Lord Seastark?" He asks and I nod.

"Of course, commander!" I say with a small smile. "I always welcome your counsel. You have served my father and myself faithfully!" The grizzled veteran of the Rebellion and Ninepenny War remains stone-faced but his green eyes soften at my words.

"I'm unconvinced these fire lances could stop a knight's charge and I question their use due to their limited range. They have power, I'll give'em that. But what's the point if they're too far away to hit? I'm more impressed with the false dragonpowder itself and believe we should arm the scorpions guarding the port with the stuff. Mayhaps even use it with scorpions on ships! If we're able to make our own powder then we can also make these 'dragon barrels' your cousin speaks of." I nod at his words while Wyman looks intrigued.

"We should look into acquiring the secrets to true dragonpowder, not only for fire lances that shoot flame. When we were in Yin, we saw warships equipped with strange devices that translated as 'spitfires' . They had pumps and bronze nozzles that they claim could shoot flames like the fire lance but on a larger scale! Of course, they refused to demonstrate it when asked, so take it with a grain of salt." Wymans explains. Commander Donnel and myself salivate at the idea of ship-mounted flamethrowers.

"I agree that we should test a potential 'dragon shot' for the scorpions and look into dragon barrels for sieges, but we're continuing tests on the fire lance. When we return in a few moons, I'll put you and Wyman in charge of arming our scorpions with false dragonpowder! As for true dragonpowder, that can wait for when we get back. Now let's do one more test! This time, with powdered dragonglass!" The commander bows his head as I order the servant to remove the spent cannister and replace it with a new one with a red painted dot.

We once again retreat to the safety of the snow trench and I give the order to fire again. The servant lights the fuse and ruses towards us. I wait in anticipation, wondering if the weapon will even fire at all only to be dragged out of my thoughts by a loud sharp crack and a stream of flames erupts from the fire lance reaching some ten feet, coating the armored dummy in flames for several seconds before the flames ceased like nothing happened.

We stood dumbfounded, my colleagues, for the sheer luck of discovering the secret to true dragonpowder. Meanwhile, my mind's in overdrive trying to figure out how obsidian mixed with black powder produces such a reaction, especially since I'm pretty damn sure such a thing wouldn't work on Earth. Hells, I did it on a whim to see if dragonglass did have some magical properties. Apparently, it does.

My colleagues whoop in celebration, even going as far as to hug one another. After receiving a hug from Wyman, he and the commander rapidly begin discussing the potential for our own ship-bound flamethrowers as we approach the armored dummy. The armor was scorched black on the breast plate but minimal damage done overall. After a few moments of analyzing the results, Edric decided we had enough.

"Are we finished with testing? We have only a few shots left of dragonpowder" Edric asks me.

"Aye, I think we're done for today. The tests proved to be successful!" I declare and the servant begins to clean up the range. I vow to test the dragonglass scattershot against pig carcasses to see how it'd fare against wights we return.

"One more thing." I announce, getting their attention. "We'll bring the false dragonpowder fire lance with us to Oldtown for a demonstration, but not the true dragonpowder. We must not let word get out that we've discovered the secret. After all, we need a stag card of our own, wouldn't you agree?" They all readily agree. I've been generous enough with my knowledge and inventions. I can't afford to give away something as potent as this. Not when I can use it to give the squids a nasty surprise.

"My lord, I know you leave tomorrow, but the boys must still attend their lessons with me." My maester says as we begin to leave.

"We'll swing by and pick them up from Jalabhar's archery lessons. Wyman, Edric, and I are leaving to meet with the former slaves and inspect the progress on the whaling ship. We're meeting my mother, Breyna, and Elsa there." The maester nods at my words before walking up to Wyman and my commander. The three of them talk animatedly about the potential uses for true dragonpowder and I'm distracted by Edric approaching me.

"Brother, I received a letter from Lord Petyr Baelish." He whispers. My eyes widen slightly.

"And what did it say?" I inquired in a low voice.

"He wrote of his father returning to their small keep, war loot in hand to oversee the construction of a small dock. They hope for success with their breeding rams won in Morosh. He also wrote of happenings in the Red Keep. The queen caused quite a stir in court when she invited the king for a winter ride claiming 'it's like a summer snow for us Northerners'! To the Southroners horror and Kingsguard's annoyance, the king rode with her on Dothraki horses outside the city!" I chuckle briefly at the image of the Royal couple riding through the snow but the moment of levity is short-lived.

"Anything else?" I ask warily.

I'm dreading the moment that worm Petyr Baelish calls upon Edric to pay back his blood debt. Surely he isn't calling it in so soon?

"Other than asking me how I've faired since the battle and wishing to exchange letters, there's two things…" I don't like his face and tone. "…First, he mentioned there are rumors of you and Lady Malora having an affair floating around the Red Keep!" I grit my teeth as this could be bad.

"How severe are these rumors!?" I inquire.

"Not too severe, according to him. Most dismiss them because of Jonos' presence." Edric says and I breathe a sigh of relief.

I didn't just bring Jonos Slate to Castle Warg to get to know his betrothed, I also did it in case of such a scenario. Harder to argue anything scandalous is happening between us if her betrothed is staying in the same castle.

"Anything else?" "Only that he 'wonders what happened to make the queen choose the Karstarks?'" I nearly trip over myself as we pass the glass garden. I regain my footing and search his face, finding it to no be a jape to my dismay.

"What's this mummery about 'choosing the Karstarks'?" I say incredulously. Edric raises his hands to placate me.

"I know brother." Edric drags me out of my thoughts, waving his arms pleadingly. "It's just that the Karstarks seem to hold much sway with the queen, one of her ladies-in-waiting is even a Karstark! Though I think there might be another reason…" He trails off.

"What is it?" I demand. Edric hesitates, letting out a sigh.

"The queen thinks our house supports Princess Cersei in their feud. Your friendship with the crown prince probably doesn't help. Despite your efforts to stay out of it here in Castle Warg, we're still being dragged in." He finishes gravely.

I clench my fists. Shit… Is that why the Karstarks are being favored in the King's Company!? A drunken memory of Winterfell and Karstark flashes in my mind.

"The queen sees you for the Greystark you are!"

I banish the memory, swearing under my breathe as it seems one of my fears is being realized. I've been determined to stay out of any factionalism in the Red Keep just so I can focus on developing my lands and prepare for the inevitable Ironborn attack. Playing the game directly would only distract me from my long-term goal: survive the coming apocalypse. I've been content to simply receive letters on events in the Red Keep but felt no need to interfere.

Mayhaps that'll have to change, but what to do? Is this true the queen favors the Karstarks? Or is Baelish trying to stoke chaos between the Starks and I to climb his precious ladder?

"Brother?" Edric asks hesitantly, his face anxious. I shake myself out of my thoughts.

"He didn't ask about clippers or any inventions did he?" I ask evenly. My brother shakes his head.

"No, he just asked about my wellbeing and wanted to know more about our family. He made no mention of ships or inventions." He said to my surprise. I honestly half-expected the greedy prick to ask for a clipper or the secret to my steel mills.

"Fine." I growl. "You may write to Lord Petyr, but you are to reveal nothing of my inventions or our military strength. If he pushes, ask him this: 'Does Lord Arryn know he took his wife's maidenhood in Riverrun?'"

Edric eyes bulge out. "Did he really!?" He sputters. My is answer is a knowing smirk as we approach the archery range.

The castle archers and crossbowmen practiced their shot under the watchful gaze of a blonde-bearded man named Rodwell, a captain in my castle guard. His sharp blue eyes inspecting each guard's form and accuracy, his new steel helmet glinting in the sunlight. The steel mills have been hard at work forging steel for new weapons and armor for my bannermen. First were the castle guard, the lads in the archery range receiving new visorless helmets and brigandine armor. The rest of the castle guard were finished being upgraded from partial plate to full plate armor and I'm replacing the Wolfsport city guard's chainmail for newly forged partial plate. Iron or rusted weapons are being replaced with new castle-forged steel ones. Old, but still useable weapons were being kept as a stockpile to arm the levies.

The middle-aged man bows his head as we pass him to walk further down the range where Jalabhar is training the fosterlings. The Summer Islander's colorful feather cape and headdress swapped for a snow bear pelt and a mink-furred ushanka when the first cold winds of autumn started blowing. Though he added his own flair by attaching a handful red and yellow feathers to shoulders of his bear pelt and a lone green feather jutted upwards from the right side of his ushanka. The feathers had long frozen over but the man neither noticed nor cared.

Commander Donnel finishes his conversation with Wyman and goes to speak with Captain Rodwell. I see the fosterlings with Jonnel and Quenten line up their shots with simple oakwood bows, except for Tyrion, firing a crossbow. I spy Ser Maynard and Ser Norman Flowers standing off to the side observing them. Ser Normund watches intently while Ser Maynard beams at his smallfolk son training with the highborn lads, especially his budding friendship with Tyrion. Jalabhar moves up the line inspecting their posture, pausing to straighten Patrek's back before giving the order to let loose. The arrows and bolt sail through the air and hit targets fifty yards away, all landing near their bullseyes.

"Good shots!" I announce our presence and the boys turn around to look at me.

"Lord Seastark!" They all jump at my voice.

"Jalabhar performed a trick shot for us! He shot a bullseye, then split the arrow with his goldenheart bow!" Asher exclaims. I look to the Summer Islander, who holds up an arrow split in twain.

"Impressive. Wish I witnessed it." I say in an impressed tone.

"We heard the fire lance. Sounds like it didn't explode if you fired thrice!" Tyrion keenly notes.

"Aye, we successfully tested our own fire lance! The first fire lance made in Westeros!" The boys gasp.

"You did it faster than the Citadel!?" "You beat my father to it!" "Can we see it shoot a target? Please, just one!" "Can I have one?" Humfrey, Tyrion, Patrek, and Asher bombard me respectively.

"Aye, as far as I know, the Lannisters and the Citadel haven't made one yet though I know they're trying. No, but you'll see it demonstrated in Oldtown. No Asher, you can't have one!" They laugh at my response to Asher's question and bombard me with more questions about the fire lances.

I answer them truthfully and with full honestly… At least about the false dragonpowder shots. I deliberately omitted our success discovering the secret to true dragonpowder, wanting it to remain it a secret. Once I satisfied their curiosity, I dismiss them to their lessons. The fosterlings trudge off still talking amongst themselves except for Asher. The lad approaches me, cautiously looking for anyone within earshot. Finding us alone, he lowers his voice.

"Lord Seastark, I dreamt of wings last night!" He excitedly whispers the code phrase for when they skinchange for the first time.

"Oh, what happened?" I say, not particularly surprised. I was expecting Asher to be the first to awaken his gift thanks to his Northern blood.

"I remember dozing off before I could put Tar in his cage for the night. Next thing I know, I was staring at my own body and flapping about the room. I eventually awoke, placed him in his cage, and went to bed." Asher tells of his experience.

"Well, congratulations, Asher! We'll work on your skinchanging when we return." The lad beams at the promise to work on his gift. "Has anyone else had any dreams?" I ask him.

Asher shakes his head. "No, just me. They'll unlock the gift, right?" He looks up at me with his green eyes.

"Mayhaps they will, mayhaps they won't. It's not up to me but whether their First Men blood sings true. Now go catch up and attend your lessons!" Asher nods and bolts towards the Great Keep.

Seeing him grow smaller in the distance, I turn and walk up to Jalabhar.

"So, how're their skills with a bow?" I ask the Summer Islander in a casual tone.

"Lacking by standards of my people, but worry not Lord Seastark, I will get them caught up. By the time they are men, they will be skilled enough to compete in the grand archery tournaments of Jhala. They would not win of course, but skilled enough to compete." He says in improved Common Tongue, though still thick in his foreign accent. I give an impressed look.

"Quite the boast! Your people are famed bowmen even in the North, and the castle guard loves training with you!" Jalabhar grins at my praise before turning serious.

"Captain Okonkwo returned with his usual shipment of kofi and spices." He says, mentioning the leader of the local Summer Islander trading post run by the Xaq Clan of Koj.

Years of increased trade with Westeros has led some clans like the Xaqs, Zokos, Harambes, Totos Fulanis, and M'Balles to send sons from lesser wives and concubines to found cadet branches in Westerosi ports. Born without any chance to inherit land or titles, many like Captain Okonkwo were either ordered or volunteered to put down roots to in our lands to facilitate trade. These Summer Islander cadet branches operate in a strange, legal gray area between merchants and hedge knights. Captain Okonkwo commands the trading post while his wife, Lady Natomi, runs The Frisky Dolphin, the most visited brothel in Wolfsport.

"Ah, good. We were getting low on kofi." I say, relieved that I wouldn't have to take an unplanned kofi break lasting moons.

"You Westerosi have been buying kofi 'like no tomorrow' as you say. Had we known how profitable trading with your people would be, we would have cast aside the Three Daughters and started centuries ago!" Jalabhar says the last part with a chuckle.

"And I'm sure if we knew of the heavenly drink, we'd have established trade centuries ago!" I chuckle myself. "As for the demand, you can thank a few prominent lords like Lord Hightower, Lord Lannister, and myself for starting the trend. Once we started, the royal couple introduced it to court and it has only grown from there. More and more lords are purchasing it for the first time, either to try it themselves or serve guests. So, I'd expect demand for kofi to keep rising if nothing else." I explain Westeros' growing love for the dark, caffeinated beverage.

"And the clans you trade with are no doubt thankful. Many like Prince Makathar have grown even wealthier exporting kofi to these lands. If only my sister wasn't so shortsighted." Jalabhar shakes his head in disappointment. "The Xho clan could have cast off the invisible chains of Lys and prospered from trade with your people. But instead, fearing change, she bound us further by marrying that damn Lysene man! Now she arrays my clan with those that continue siding with the Three Daughters!" I grimace at the frustration in his words.

"Aye, it's a shame indeed, my friend." I say wistfully. His mouth twitches into a wry grin.

"Being exiled from my clan and homeland has been a trial, but there are certainly worse places to be exiled to than here. You have been most gracious to me, Lord Seastark. I was right to take Wyman's offer to come here. Even if the winters here are horrible!" We laugh before he remembers something. "I almost forgot, Captain Okwonkwo brought back word from my homeland that I think you should know."

"What news from the Summer Islands?" I inquire, wondering if it's anything that'll affect trade.

"There is much happening in my homelands! The Geres has declared war on the Totos!" I search my mind for the two clans.

A picture of large island shaped like an arching leviathan appears in my mind's eye, Jhala, the largest and southernmost main island. It's home to princely clans: the M'Balles of Ebonhead in the Sweet Flower Vale, the Totos of Port Africa, the Geres of Leopard's Den, the Xhos of Blue Orchid in the Red Flower Vale, and the Yarubos of Parrot Harbor. Mixed in are dozens of petty clans with shifting loyalties.

"They're the two princely clans between the two Vales, right?" I hesitantly guess.

"Yes, and the Geres are allied to my clan. While they claim they are fighting over long disputed land, word is my sister is paying them with Lysene coin. They, like her, have deep ties to Lys and are no doubt incensed your king's trading post in Port Africa!" He responds, mentioning one of trading posts owned by the King's Company.

Located on the northwestern Jhala on the shores of the Indigo Straits, it was founded by Princess Africa Toto thousands of years ago. While Ebonhead is by far the largest and wealthiest city on the island, Port Africa competes with Blue Orchid and Parrot Harbor for second place. It holds one of the King's Company's four trading posts in the region, the other three being in Ebonhead, Silverback Harbor and the Isle of Love.

"So not truly about land, but punishing the Toto Clan for trading with the King's Company?" My question is met with a grim face and grimmer words.

"That's not all. Tensions rise on Omboru!" I bring up a new island in my mind's eye.

This time I picture a smile-shaped island south of the Isle of Birds and aptly named Smiling Sea. Like Jhala, there are five major princely clans and dozens of smaller petty clans. The five princely clans west to east are the Fulanis of Fula Town, the Hausas of Hyenafort, the Wakandas of Birnan Zana, the Harambes of Silverback Harbor, and the Drogbas of Ivory Town.

"In the east, the longstanding alliance between Harambes and Drogbas was shattered with the trading post in Silverback Harbor. Myr had much influence in both but now only has the Drogba clan. In the west, the Hausas and Fulanis have always been rivals like the Xaqs and Zokos. Tyrosh has ties with the Hausas going back centuries, meanwhile your trading post in Fula Town barely goes back a year!" Jalabhar continues.

"We've been trading in the region for some four years now, why wait until now to strike at our trade partners?" I ask the question that's been bothering me.

"Each year, trade increases, and the number of trading posts with it. Your people now have three-and-ten trading posts! Six of those use to trade heavily with the Three Daughters and no longer do so." The former prince explains.

The Sunset Trade Company has Lotus Port, Port Malthar, Moluu, and set one up in Fula Town a year ago. The Royal Trade Company, commonly known as the "King's Company", has Ebonhead, Port Africa, Silverback Harbor, and the Singing Stones. The Dornish ironically has the most at five: Last Lament, the Isle of Women, the Isle of Love, their own separate trading post in Ebonhead, and recently the Isle of Birds through marriage like the Lannisters and Zokos.

"So, it's not just us cutting them out as the middle men. They fear we're going to squeeze them out of the Summer Islands completely?" Not that I or many Westerosi would oppose such a thing.

"Not just that. Word of this new kingdom in the Stepstones reaching my homeland has no doubt embolden these clans to act against those aligned with your people. They will see the Seahorse King as a potential ally." I repress a sign at hearing about the Rogue Seahorse, or Seahorse King, or whatever the hells they're calling him these days!

"Even with the Sunstone Corridor, the Rogue Seahorse still causes us problems! What else?" I ask, making a note to myself to let Lord Hightower and the Reachlords know about this proxy war if they didn't already.

Out of all the butterflies to flap their wings since my arrival, the escape of Lucerys Velaryon to the Stepstones remains one of the most unexpected. I've long given up on tracking every direct or indirect butterfly my presence has caused, but the existence of this Kingdom of the Stepstones is by far the most noticeable. Once he started carving out his kingdom, I expected him to unite the Stepstones at some point, so that wasn't a surprise. What I wasn't expecting was the alliance with Tyrosh, combined with the Baratheon seizure of Sunstone to seriously ratchet up tensions in the region. Lys and Myr have recognized the new kingdom but are the only other Free Cities to do so. The rest have yet to formally recognize the Rogue Seahorse's claims to sovereignty, but have quietly acknowledged its existence.

"The Three Exiles have begun raiding again. The Isle of Love and the Singing Stones have already been hit!" He reports. I search my mind for what I know about them, which isn't much.

"They're the westernmost islands of… well, exiled clans?" Jalabhar looks like he just sucked a lemon.

"Aye, Lord Seastark. The Three Exiles are barren rocks ruled by the Three Stained Clans. When Queen Xandra Qo united the islands, she ordered the clans to abolish slavery. All but three ended the foul practice. The queen had those three clans stripped of their lands and exiled to remote islands in the west. They are loathed throughout the Summer Islands for ignoring the sacred rules of war, acting no better than pirates and slavers when they raid the other islands. More than once, clans were forced to unite to halt their raids in the past. What you might find concerning is the Three Exiles have new leaders. Ones who came to power after being visited by a Kraken ship called the Silence." My face darkens at hearing Euron meddling in the Summer Islands.

"So, that's where the squids went!" I mutter. "They ceased operations Beyond the Wall when winter came and those reavers had to go somewhere. Guess we know now."

Jalabhar's face becomes grave. "Word is they have some kind of alliance or agreement. Some have said the Three Exiles are sending tribute of stolen riches and slaves to the Iron Islands!" I grit my teeth at the ill news.

"I knew your people were divided, but I never realized your lands were so fractured!" I say, frowning at news of war on Jhala and boiling tensions on Omboru.

"My people being divided is nothing new, but the spat between your people and the Three Daughters is 'adding wood to the fire' as your people say. Should war break out in the Stepstones, it will no doubt spill over to the Summer Islands. It is certain many clans will use it as an opportunity to settle old scores. If the fighting grows widespread enough, it could even trigger another Boogaloo!" I blink owlishly, repeating aloud the vaguely familiar word from Earth.

Jalabhar nods. "In your tongue, it means 'Reign of Blood'. The Council of Elders in Tall Trees Town acts as a mediator between the clans to keep the peace. When two clans decide to war regardless, they impose the Sacred Rules to limit the bloodshed. For them, dealing with one or two wars at once is a simple matter. But when war engulfs most or all the clans, their power to enforce the Sacred Rules becomes strained to the point of breaking, and when it breaks…" "…A boogaloo is the result." I finish, seeing where this is going.

"Yes, when they happen, the clans casted aside the rules that prevent our wars from being as bloody as the ones waged here. Battles no longer had limits to the numbers involved, leading to larger and bloodier clashes. Cities, once forbidden to attack, became the targets of sieges and sacks. Women and children, once forbidden to touch, were raped and slaughtered. Entire clans like the Tutsis, the Jambas, and the N'Dongos were wiped out. Atrocities like the Sack of Ivory Town, the Rape of Last Lament, and the Kigali Massacre happened in previous bugaloos. They are almost always followed by a unification of the islands because they some of the few times a prince or princess can amass the power needed to be crowned by the Elders.

The more the former prince speaks, the more it dawns on me that by trading with the Summer Islands, we made it unstable as an unintended side-effect. Sure, some clans are prospering, but our presence has divided many between us and the Three Daughters, inflaming existing rivalries and creating new ones. Now throw in the Ironborn and their local allies raiding…

"…And here I thought the Stepstones was a barrel of dragonpowder waiting to explode!" I half-jape as I process just how fragile the balance of power is in the Summer Islands.

"You are right in more ways than one, Lord Seastark." The dark-skinned man says in a flat voice, not finding my jape amusing.

"Regardless, you have my thanks for informing me, Jalabhar. And give Captain Okonkwo my thanks as well." I turn to leave, gathering Wyman and Edric.

We head for the stables and I inform them of everything Jalabhar told me. They both looked mildly disturbed by the end of it.

"Brother, are we heading for war with the Three Daughters? First the tariffs, then the creation of this new kingdom in the Stepstones, and now war in the Summer Islands" Edric asks, looking genuinely concerned. Wyman and I exchange grave looks.

"I don't know, but with the way things have been going…" Wyman trails off.

"We have at least a year, two at most!" My brother and cousin snap their heads to me.

"Why do you think that, brother?" Edric asks confused while Wyman waits patiently for me to explain.

"The squids will need at least another year to complete their Iron Fleet, that we can count on. It's the Rogue Seahorse that's the stag card. I'd wager he'll spend the rest of winter consolidating his kingdom. His alliance with Tyrosh could embolden him to make a grab for Sunstone when we least expect it, but I doubt it. As long as it's winter, we'll have peace. Odds are, war will start in spring, summer if the gods smile on us!" I respond. Edric and Wyman grimace at my dark prediction but give determined nods.

From my knowledge of the books and show, I know the Long Summer will last from late 288 A.C. to early 299 A.C. Since springs and autumns last a year in this world, that means winter should end sometime late next year. I expect the peace to last at least through the first few moons of spring as everyone recovers from winter, putting my earliest estimated date for war in early 288 A.C. Of course, I realize I'm basing my predictions on Balon being somewhat logical and Lucerys Velaryon, a man I don't know much about since in canon, he disappears after the Rebellion.

"What about Myr and Lys? Will they join Tyrosh and the Rogue Seahorse?" Wyman asks as we reach the stables. We mount our Northern chargers and ride out of the gate with a servant and four guards onto the road to Wolfsport. Cleared of the waist high snow that blankets the land, with sand poured on the surface to prevent slipping crunches under the hooves of our rides.

"At the moment, I'd say unlikely. All three may be becoming hostile to the Seven Kingdoms, but they're not the Triarchy of the days of old. There is currently no alliance between them, not even a truce in the Disputed Lands. Tyrosh still has to keep one eye on the other daughters because they are just as likely to attack them as they are to render aid. But of course, that could always change…" I trail off with a shrug. Wyman and Edric shoot worried glances at one another.

"If there's another War for the Stepstones, can we count on the Royal Fleet to aid us against the squids?" Edric asks the question that I dread to answer. I take a moment to consider the optics.

"Unfortunately, no." I say with a heavy sigh. "I doubt Prince Stannis will be able to render aid if he's focused fighting the Rogue Seahorse and Tyrosh, let alone if Myr and Lys are involved. If that war goes bad enough, they could pull ships from the Redwynes, if not their whole fleet, leaving us to contend with Balon alone with the Lannister fleet. We have to assume that the fighting in the Stepstones will not be swift." My riding companions go pale at my words.

The Rogue Seahorse on his own isn't that big a threat to the realm. At worse, he's at the same threat level as Balon. But with their alliance with Tyrosh? That changes things.

Tyrosh has a sizeable peacetime fleet of over a hundred warships, smaller than the Royal Fleet, but the big threat isn't their ships, it's their wealth. They can easily hire scores of sellsails, double the size of their fleet within a moon, and bankroll the war for both themselves and the Rogue Seahorse. Same story for land, their standing army is nothing impressive, being mainly relegated for garrison duty, but they can hire several sellsword companies at once, more than making up for it.

"We need to expand the Sunset Fleet. Even more than we are already are. We've finished three more galleys, bringing our fleet to three-and-forty galleys and can immediately work on another three." Wyman starts talking rapid fire as we reach my first quickstone kiln and turn down the road that wraps around the city.

"I'm going to halt the construction of whaling ships after we finish the first, freeing up shipbuilders that can work on galleys. Means we could we can build three galleys in four moons instead of six. As for the clippers…" I pause, not wanting to cease their production to maintain my lead in numbers.

The Lannisters currently field two with another two under construction according to Tyrion and letters exchanged between my wife and goodbrother. The Hightowers have one but are building more and while the Redwynes lost their one clipper, they're no doubt replacing it and then some.

"…We'll continue clipper production as planned. We just replaced the one lost in the Jade Sea and we'll keep building more." I respond after a moment.

"We need to warn our allies. We can send a raven to the Mormonts to see if they can expand their small fleet!" Wyman says with urgency.

"After Blackpool, we're stopping in Seagard, Fair Isle, and Lannisport on the way to Oldtown. We can warn the lords there and the Reachmen at the wedding!" Edric adds.

We continue discussing the Ironborn threat when we reach the mess of houses and apartments hastily built for the former slaves. Several wooden barns full of Essosi breeds of livestock ranging from pigs to goats to prized breeding rams. We pass by a few former slaves outside in heavy furs who quickly kneel until we reach the small wooden house sandwiched between two quickstone apartments where we'll meet with the elders. With no leader among them, they turn to the few elderly slaves as their voice when speaking with me.

We're greeted by a group of eight elderly Essosi and the godswife, Mirri Maz Duur, the same eight I spoke with when they first arrived. I spot Flarys, Son of Flagrem and two elders standing with Mirri while the old crone leads the other four, the ones who converted to the Old Gods.

Next to them were the ladies of House Seastark, flanked by four household guards in shiny new full plate armor adorned with cloaks baring the house banner. My wife, Elsa, my ten nameday old sister Breyna, and my mother, with the latter two leading efforts to teach them Common Tongue. Breyna simply wanted to get out of her lessons with Maester Armond with my mother allowing this in return for my sister aiding the Common Tongue lessons. They stand proudly, furs covering woolen dresses of the Seastark colors, my mother in blue, my sister in white, and my wife in black.

Surrounding them is a small crowd of former slaves, a mix of men, women, and children with skin tones ranging from pale to teak and everything in between, all clad in various furs. The former slaves kneel except the elders, who bow and curtsy. I give them permission to rise, hearing the crowd whisper in their foreign tongues as we dismount. The elders greet us warmly with heartfelt smiles and with broken Common Tongue.

I greet the ladies with a grin and a peck on the lips for my wife. "How goes the Common Tongue lessons?" I ask.

"It's been slow-going with the adults but the children are picking it up fast. Breyna has been wonderful with the children and Mirri has been most helpful in translating. We've had slower progress with her people because they wish to keep their native tongue." My mother gestures towards the Lhazareen godswife.

"I do what I can Lord Seastark. My people here are ones who were either enslaved or born slaves, only knowing bits and pieces of our culture and religion. I've been teaching them their history, training a local godswife to take my place, converting the willing, and assisting Lady Seastark in her lessons." She says with a tired smile.

"Well, your hard work hasn't been in vain from what I hear. Now let's get out of the cold and discuss your new home." I gesture towards the door and we file in.

It's a simple one room house with a large wooden table in the middle with a hearth providing warmth within the walls. Taking our seats, I wave over the servant who rode with us and he grabs a large roll of parchment from his satchel and rolls it out on the table.

It's a detailed map of Sea Dragon Point with Castle Warg and Wolfsport at the northwestern tip. The Wolfswood Road, drawn in a straight line from Wolfsport to the edge of the Wolfswood, roughly a third of its length represented portion currently complete. The unpaved two thirds, is marked with a dotted line snaking down the spine of the land through Amber Hill and Flatmire. A separate dotted line juts out from Amber Hill to a castle symbol next to a small settlement on the eastern shore labeled Stonedrift. Another dotted line branches out west from Flatmire to Stillport on the coast and continues southwest towards Blackpool shows the Stony Road, set to begin construction in spring. The Wolfswood itself is shown as a green covering of trees taking up most of the central and southern parts of the land, with the northern third being mostly farmland, and the eastern shore grazing land. Hills are shown around Amber Hill and marshes east of Flatmire

"I know the winter has been hard and I thank you for your efforts and your patience. Come spring, you shall settle in your new home." Mirri and a young freedmen translate my words to the elders who still have a weak grasp of Common Tongue. I point to Wolfsport.

"We are here. You will travel with Ser Edric down the Wolfswood Road to Amber Hill." My finger traces the dotted line to the town in the dead center of Sea Dragon Point. "From there, a road will be constructed that will run east of Amber Hill to the village of Stonedrift, where the ruins of a nearby keep will be restored under my brother." My finger moves east to the aforementioned coastal village located two miles southeast of Edric's rebuilt holdfast. "Those who assist with the reconstruction of the keep will be able to live and work as servants in my brother's household." This draws a large reaction from the elders.

The elders who converted to the Old Gods eagerly volunteer their men to rebuild the keep, looking hopeful that one day, their grandchildren and great-grandchildren will have a place in my brother's holdfast. Flarys and a few elders Mirri converted to the Great Shepherd looked less enthused. He speaks in Lhazareen, a tongue that sounded like the bastard lovechild of Arabic and Hebrew.

"Lord Seastark, our people hope to build their own village on your road to the keep." Mirri translates. I consider it for a moment.

"…I'll allow it. But in return, your people will earn their village by providing labor for road construction. Each family that provides at least one worker will earn the materials necessary to build their homes!" If I have to build a separate village for them, then I might as well squeeze them for additional labor. A hundred or a hundred and fifty additional workers will get the road built that much faster. With three roads under construction in spring, I'm going to be strapped for manpower and the Lhazareens workers will ease the labor strain a bit.

The elders quietly debate before Flarys speaks. "We accept your terms, Lord Seastark." Mirri translates.

We continue discussing the details of their settlement such as housing, grazing rights, the sale of breeding rams. The Lhazareen were particularly keen to sell their several of their rams in return for sheep, since they had too few. This worked out since I know the local have the reverse problem: too many sheep and not enough rams. This "Exchange of Lambs" as the Lhazareen called it will be something Edric will oversee when he settles them in his lands. I wonder how the local shepherds will react when they find out such trades are often accompanied with weddings. I also noticed an interesting trend with the former slaves, the ones who converted to the Old Gods respect me and acknowledge my lordship, but heavily favor my brother. The Lhazareen and their converts are the reverse; they respect my brother but seek to curry favor with me.

Then the question of levies came up. The Old Gods elders had no issue with their sons and grandsons fighting under my banner, quite the opposite! Many of their young men wished to become household guards to Edric or the "Black Wolf" as they've affectionately named him. The Lhazareen and Great Shepherd worshippers on the other hand…

"Lord Seastark, we are not a warrior people. We have no martial culture and the Great Shepherd preaches not to partake in violence and bloodshed, with the exception of in defense of one's life, family, and livelihood." Mirri translates.

"They will not have to fight in battle if they do not wish to. They may serve in other ways. They can be camp workers, healers, cooks, and so on. The only thing that matters, it that when I put out the call, your people will answer and serve." I declare to Mirri and the Lhazareen's shock. Flarys and the elders whisper amongst themselves before he speaks to me.

"You are most generous for allowing us to serve without fighting. Our people were right to trust you and the 'Black Wolf'. Should you put out the call, we will answer." Mirri smiles as she translates Flarys' words. The meeting ends with a prayer to the Old Gods for winter to end soon, the Great Shepherd worshippers remaining respectfully silent.

We head outside and part ways with converted former slaves and walk with Mirri, Flarys, and the Lhazareen elders a few blocks to a large bonfire. Some four hundred gathered the fire when we arrived. Half were Lharazeen by their short, stocky bodies with copper-toned skin and almond-shaped eyes. The other half were non-Lhazareen and mixed bloods, generally taller, with lighter skin and rounder eyes. The men wore rabbit-furred ushankas and have short, neatly trimmed beards while the women of all ages wore colorful headscarves with expertly woven geometric patterns. Only Mirri and her apprentice godswife had their curly hair out freely.

"Lord Seastark, as followers of the Great Shepherd, we wish to perform a ritual to mark you and your kin as our shepherds." Mirri declares and I allow her. She's already told us the details of the ritual days ago.

A lamb is brought forth on a rope leash by Mirri's apprentice, Korra, a beautiful young Lhazareen maiden around Edric's age wielding a ceremonial dagger. She goes to hand the dagger to Mirri, who holds up her arm to halt her. She declares something in her native tongue that causes the girl to react with shock and disbelief. They briefly argue before Korra gives in, glancing at us anxiously.

With a firm grip on the dagger, she chants a prayer in Lhazareen before slitting the lamb's throat in one swift motion. It tries desperately to bleat but can't, kicking its legs helplessly as Korra firmly holds it in place. The life dimming in its eyes as blood gushes from its sliced throat.

She places a clay bowl under the lamb's exposed throat, collecting blood until almost full before walking over me in measured steps. She hands me the dagger and I make a shallow cut on my left palm, letting a few droplets of blood drip into the bowl before she takes the dagger and makes her way to Edric. The process repeats with him, Wyman, his wife, Breyna, Myrra, and my mother before she stirs the blood with her fingers chanting a prayer. Once again, she's in front of me but this time, I move my dark brown hair out of the way of my forehead for her to fingerpaint a curled shepherd's crook. She chants another prayer before doing the same with the other Seastarks.

The crowd repeats her chants for each of us before making a long chant that sounds like an oath. They then get on their knees and bow forwards, pressing their heads to the cold snow three times before rising. Korra speaks again in her native tongue but this time Mirri translates.

"A pact of leadership has been made! Signed with lamb's blood in the eyes of the Great Shepherd! House Seastark is our shepherd and we are your flock!" I smile with satisfaction at earning their loyalty, stepping forward to give a speech.

"People of the Great Shepherd, I do not worship him, but he and the Old Gods have never quarreled! You have travelled a great distance, from a far off land of heavy chains and savage masters. But now you stand free, in a civilized land of men and laws! I am your lord, not your master!" I declare, earning loud cheers from the crowd. I wait a moment for their applause to die down before continuing.

"The Great Shepherd will be accepted in these lands so long as you follow my laws and serve when called! If you learn Common Tongue, you may proudly speak your native tongue without fear of punishment! If you aid in building a road through your future home, materials will be provided to build houses. What I ask is simple: a road for a village!" I'm cut off by many families offering male relatives in a mix of Lhazareen and broken Common Tongue. Men and lads with no families offered themselves. Though heartened by their enthusiasm, I quiet them down to continue as that will be sorted at a later date.

"I do not ask you to cast aside your culture and traditions, but to adapt them to living in these lands! As long as you respect the weirwoods, you will find us Northerners to be pleasant neighbors!" With my speech finished, another round of applause ensues. When it dies down, the crowd begins to thins out, with the remaining half gossiping and socializing.

Flarys approaches us, the thin elder's salt and pepper colored beard has grown even longer, now reaching his stomach. Accompanying him is his two sons. One is lithe and is almost an exact copy of his father, but the other is noticeably different. He stands a few inches taller than me and even under furs I could tell he's quite muscular. Unlike his brother and father however, he has lighter skin and round eyes, a sure sign of mixed blood. They both looked several years older than me and each held a bowl of water in their right hands and several cloths in their left. We gratefully wash and dry our foreheads before Flarys speaks in Lhazareen.

"Father say we be good flock for de wolf shepherds. He say I, Flagrin, and me brother Wahid, work to build road. If you make call, we work in war camp. I good cook, and Wahid good, strong worker! We serve wolf shepherds who give us home and let us pray in peace!" The leaner son, Flagrin speaks in somewhat broken Common Tongue with a thick accent that sounded vaguely Middle Eastern.

"I accept your service, Flagrin and Wahid, sons of Flarys. I will find you work in my war camps away from the fighting. But know that in battle, camps are sometimes attacked." I warn the brothers. They exchange a look.

"We know battle may come to camp. If it do, we fight to defend camp!" Wahid, the larger sibling said in a deep voice. My eyes flicker between the determined brothers.

"Very well. Should war come, you will both be mustered. Until then, you will be free to build your new lives." Flarys and his sons bow their heads in acknowledgement and leave us.

Edric, Wyman, and the ladies go to mingle with the crowd while Myrra and I walk to Mirri and her apprentice.

"Will you be ready to depart with us tomorrow?" I ask the godswife.

"I'll be ready, Lord Seastark. I've trained Korra to be the local godswife and you should have no problems with the flock. We are not the kind to force our faith on others and you've been more than generous with accommodating our beliefs." She responds contently.

"Where will you go after we arrive in Oldtown" Myrra asks her and she shrugs.

"I will stay in Oldtown for a few days before catching a ship sailing east. It's a shame the Citadel doesn't allow women to attend but I learned much in my time here. Your wife and Lady Seastark showed me your forceps and woundcleanser, truly amazing inventions!" Myrra and I exchange a glance. "The godswives must know of these tools. I will speak of your generosity to our people, telling our kalif, or king, of a far off land, where our people can live and pray in peace under a foreign shepherd. One who embodies the essence of the Wolf Sage!" She says enthusiastically.

"Wolf Sage?" I raise an eyebrow and Myrra scrunches her face in confusion. Korra steps in to explain.

"Long ago, our people lived in the lands east of Asshai. When the Lion of the Night swallowed the sun after the Blood Betrayal, the Great Shepherd, Moses Lhazarus, led our people west. Fleeing the destruction of the great cities of the east, he led them through shadowy, war-torn lands infested with demons and the walking dead. During this treacherous journey, Moses and our people encountered the Wolf Sage, who gifted Moses the knowledge to slay demons and the dead to protect his flock." Mirri takes over and I'm surprised to hear a wolf being mentioned with the Lion of the Night and the Blood Betrayal again.

"Wyman mentioned hearing of a 'Wolf of the Stars' in his travels in the Jade Sea and Marwyn mentioned Rhylor worshippers believe in a 'Mad Wolf of Midnight'. Is there any connection between them and the Wolf Sage?" I ask in a curious tone.

"I've heard of the 'Wolf of the Stars' but not this 'Mad Wolf'. The 'Wolf of the Stars' plays a role in the Blood Betrayal, something about him giving knowledge to the Bloodstone Emperor." Myrra notes, her face deep in thought. I'm slightly taken aback that even Myrra's apparently heard of this strange wolf from the distant past.

I keep hearing about a wolf being involved with the Blood Betrayal and the Long Night but I don't remember anything about a wolf from the books. Was a Stark involved with the Long Night in Essos? That shouldn't be possible as the Starks would have already settled in Westeros long before the Blood Betrayal. Hells, Marywn theorizes the First Men originally migrated to Westeros fleeing encroachment from the Great Empire of the Dawn, mirroring the Andals fleeing the Valyrians thousands of years later!

"The Cult of Starry Wisdom believes the 'Wolf of the Stars' was a celestial emissary that served the Lion of the Night. The wolf was known as a giver of knowledge, both magical and mundane. They believe the wolf gave the Bloodstone Emperor the secrets of the celestials, including how a mortal could ascend to godhood. The result was the Blood Betrayal and a great war between the Celestials and the Bloodstone Emperor that shrouded the world in darkness." Mirri explains in a low voice.

"The faith of Rhylor believe in the 'Mad Wolf of Midnight', a wolf with fur black as night that serves the Great Other. He whispers lies and false prophecies to the faithful to lead them astray. They believe the Mad Wolf tricked the Bloodstone Emperor into committing the Blood Betrayal so he could start the Long Night." Korra adds.

"Even the Dothraki have the Black Sun Wolf, a wolf with fur as black as coal. Through trickery, he imprisoned the Great Stallion and ate the sun. After plunging the world into darkness, the Black Sun Wolf slaughtered the Woodswalkers before the Great Stallion escaped his prison. The two fought a great and terrible battle that scarred the world! In the end, the Great Stallion won and in his victory, he freed the sun from the wolf's stomach and threw the dark beast's corpse into the great water, forever poisoning it." Mirri finishes.

"So many legends around this mysterious wolf. What do your people believe?" My wife asks Korra.

"The Wolf Sage is mentioned only briefly in a single passage…" Korra sings a soft hymn in Lhazareen. I'm caught off guard by her angelic voice and almost miss Mirri's translations.

The Great Shepherd walked through the valley of the shadow of death, but his flock feared no evil

Halted by an old wolf, sharp eyes gleaming with forbidden knowledge, and lips that spoke a dire warning

A ruined city of corpses and demons stood in the Great Shepherd's path,

but the Wolf Sage offered another way

A little known shepherd's pass led the flock to salvation

and the Wolf Sage joined the flock on their journey west

The Wolf Sage and Great Shepherd became brothers

when the sage taught him and the flock the secrets of frozen fire

They struck a bargain, knowledge of a world untethered by the gods

for the forgiveness of sin

The flock reached the promised land and the sage stayed one year,

He aided the Great Shepherd in building the newborn kingdom

He gave knowledge of better weapons and tools, better looms and forges,

He built better walls and granaries, then journeyed west to seek his brother

Myrra and I applaud Korra's singing. "You have a beautiful voice!" Korra blushes at my wife's compliment but I'm more focused on the translation. As Myrra speaks with Korra, I turn to Mirri.

"You said the Wolf Sage was forgiven for a sin. What sin did he commit? Did he cause the Long Night?" I ask her, trying to get to the bottom of this.

"Both the Cult and firepriests of Rhylor believe the wolf sage caused the Blood Betrayal and the Long Night, but our people believe the opposite. We believe his sin was the failure to prevent it." The godswife replies and I find myself intrigued.

"So, not a servant of evil or a god of knowledge? Just a man that failed to prevent calamity?" I snort as she nods. Every question answered seems to create more questions. I watch Myrra and Korra deep in conversation until I remember something Mirri said.

"Wait, hold on. You know the Kalif of Lhazar?" I ask skeptically.

"I do." She grins. "I've delivered many babes, including the kalif's son and heir. I have connections in Lhazosh high and low." I look at her in surprise, recalling Lhazosh as the name of the Kalifate of Lhazar's capital.

"Well, I always interested in new friends and trading partners, though it'll be difficult since your homeland has no ports or shoreline. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't Lhazar completely dependent on river trade through Meeren?" I ask.

"While most trade flows down the Skahazadhan river through the Khyzai Pass to Meeren, some merchant caravans traverse the Red and Scorched Roads to Qarth. Doesn't your trade company have a trading post in Qarth?" She explains.

"Aye, a small one, but there's another one on the Isle of Elyria should your merchants go through Meeren." "Good, I will let the merchants of Lhazar know of these trading posts. Mayhaps some will travel to trade with your people." We fall into a companionable silence, both gazing at my family interacting with the former slaves as Myrra continues happily chatting with Korra.

My mother and Breyna begin gathering the children to return to their classes. Edric and a servant register the men who will work on the road and their families. Wyman is deep in his own conversation with Flarys, his sons, and several other Lhazareen men. I see the looks of reverence on their faces and the deference in their movements when they speak with my family.

"I want to thank you, Lord Seastark." Mirri finally says. I turn to her.

"Thank me for what?" I ask in confusion. She wears a melancholic smile.

"For what you've done for my people. They have told me of their time in captivity. How the Dothraki would beat and flog them for speaking our native tongue. How they would mock our faith by forcing the men to shave their beards. How they would stage 'lamb fights', where they would randomly grab two Lhazareen men and force them to fight to the death for their amusement.". Her voice becomes more heated as she describes the horrors her people had to endure. Her face is scrunched into an angry scowl and I notice her clenching her fists.

"But the women… they had it worse. They would rip the headscarves off maidens before deflowering them. Almost every woman here has been raped at least once, most several times, an unlucky few… dozens." Her face becomes haunted. "You see Flarys and his sons?" She points to the elder and his sons speaking with Edric. "He was beaten and was forced to watch his wife be raped by Khal Motho himself. She would die giving birth to the khal's son, yet Flarys still raised the boy as his own, naming him Wahid. He is not alone." I wince at the kind man having to suffer through that. I glance across the crowd, looking at the ethnic Lhazareen families in particular, and I notice a disturbing trend. Roughly half the families have at least one mixed blood child, hinting at stories depressingly similar to Flarys.

"You see the girl in the green headscarf walking beside your sister?" I look over to see my sister leading the children away. I zero in on a girl walking beside her with a green headscarf, who couldn't have been older than ten. "Her name is Alneera. Born into bondage, her parents worked in the Dothraki siege camp for moons in the bitter cold with only a tent for shelter. They froze to death in the night keeping their daughter warm. In the morning, the Dothraki threw their corpses into the wilderness and when her aunt and uncle tried to take her, they savagely beat them. She was made into a pillow slave and passed around for days before Dothraki were defeated. Only then, did her aunt and uncle gain custody of her!" She hisses in fury. I feel sick to my stomach hearing that, made even worse when I realize she was saved over a year ago.

"By the Old Gods…" I mutter in horror. I repress a shudder, feeling like I needed a bath just hearing about what happened to that poor girl. "No child should have to endure that!" I whisper mournfully.

As Alneera walks beside my sister, my heart breaks when I see her stiffen and hurriedly distance herself whenever she nears a man. As if feeling my stare, she turns around and our eyes meet from across. Her brown eyes light up in recognition and become a mix of hopeful and wary, as if waiting for me to yank off the mask of generous lord and indulge myself like her Dothraki tormentors.

A memory flashes before my mind, of the Queen on her wedding day feast. Her face is stoic and her words polite, yet her eyes bore into me with the same terrified wariness as Alneera. I shake my head, breaking eye contact and turning back to Mirri.

"Indeed, my people have suffered so much, for the Dothraki are truly cruel masters!" She whispers on the cusp of despair, tears in her eyes.

"But here…" Her tone, still soft, becomes lighter. "…They can start life anew, not as slaves but as people! Letting them speak their mother tongue and practice their faith openly may not seem like much to you Lord Seastark, but to them… it's everything! Your terms are light as a feather compared to the weight of Dothraki chains! You already earned their loyalty; this ritual was merely a formality signed in blood!" I hear her firmly declare as I watch the crowd.

I see three men speaking to one another in their native tongue, not as hushed whispers, but out loud in public. The shortest one says something that causes them to laugh uproariously. A few women nearby gossip about the happenings in their lives. They no longer resemble the thin, meek wretches that came here moons ago but a healthy and content people trying to survive the winter.

"Good. While my heart goes out for their suffering, my motives aren't entirely selfless. I need settlers for my eastern lands and with war on the horizon I'll need all the men I can get. Your people working camp jobs frees up good, strong Northmen for fighting. Not to mention they have to help build my road if they want their village. I may be generous compared to those Dothraki savages but I'm not doing this for free!" I counter but Mirri shakes her head at my cynicism, smiling softly.

"Even so, they were at your mercy and yet, you offer them a fair bargain. From how they speak of you..." She gestures to the crowd. "…They were expecting far harsher terms and weren't prepared for your lenient requirements. They once lived in shabby tents, and you gave them houses with hearths. Not long ago, they had to stitch together what scraps of cloth and furs their masters would leave for them. Yet you gave them fur cloaks that shield them from the cold and cloth for the women to knit their headscarves! From what Korra and Flarys tell me, whatever service you demand will be worth the price in their eyes!" I let her lords sink in as I gaze into the crowd.

A feeling of accomplishment wells up in my chest that my efforts weren't in vain. Sure, they refused to convert to the Old Gods, clinging to a foreign tongue and distant culture. But that's fine. At the end of the day, all that matters is that they're loyal to me and House Seastark!

We continue speak for a bit longer before I see Edric finishing up the registrations. I go to grab Myrra just as she's finishing her conversation with Korra.

We approach Wyman and Elsa, with the four of us mounting our horses while Edric stays behind to get better acquainted with his future subjects. We bid the former slaves goodbye and ride west to the castle road.

"So, what are you and Elsa doing in the city?" "We're stopping by our tailoring business to check on the corsets orders then moving on to the soapery and the perfume house. The ladies of the Reach have placed dozens of orders for corsets, perfumes, and scented soaps! We're delivering them at the wedding!" Myrra responds.

"The tailors have been trying new things with the whalebone, loving how flexible, yet strong it is. They've been experimenting with things such as hooped skits, collars for tunics, and even a collapsible parasol for easy storage!" Elsa chimes in and I'm intrigued by the potential for an umbrella.

"Hmm, a collapsible parasol could be useful, and with the right material, could even shield oneself from the rain!" Wyman comments, practically reading my mind. Elsa and my wife looked intrigued by the idea as we continue riding.

"When did you start thinking like an inventor?" I ask my cousin with a smirk.

"What can I say? Some of your ways have rubbed off on me. Next thing you'll know, I'll be the one coming up with new contraptions!" We share a laugh at Wyman's jape.

"Mayhaps you can use whalebone to brim hats?" I throw in my two cents before vaguely describing a nineteenth century top hat. Nothing like a dapper top hat to address Westeros' shocking lack of headwear outside of crowns, helms, and now ushankas.

We reach the castle road and turn right, heading north to Wolfsport. I sense Driver swimming with the pod happy as a clam and gaze out into the bay. A moment later, I see a tail surface from the water, launching a poor seal over thirty yards into the air. I let out an impressed whistle as the seal reaches the seagulls hovering over the bay, drawing the attention of my companions. They turn to the bay just in time to see the seal crash into the water with enough force to batter and daze the poor creature. After a few moments, a smaller tail smacks the seal into the air but it only reaches five-and-ten yards. Then, just when we think it's over, another tail smacks the unfortunate seal again, sending it spinning like a wheel for a good twenty yards to the side.

"Looks like my soon-to-be goodsister is having fun!" Elsa japes. Malora no doubt skinchanging into Orca one last time before we sail off tomorrow. They must be teaching Driver's younger sister and cousins how to sunt seals. Well, either that or they're bored…

Castle Warg, Later…

The only sounds in my solar are the rhythmic scratching of quill to parchment and a crackling hearth's fire. The large room is illuminated by a combination of firelight and a whale oil lamp that sits at the edge of my desk, safely away from any parchment. The whale oil lamp shines fuller and brighter than any flame, allowing for my last minute letter management to be easier on the eyes. The burning oil creates a strange odor that permeates the solar, one I and many in Wolfsport have long grown accustomed to.

I finish writing a letter to my Big Bucket namesake, inquiring on the existence of any known sulfur deposits in the Northern Mountains and requesting it be added to the list materials being surveyed. Unfortunately, any surveys looking for metals, dragonglass, and sulfur will have to wait until the winter snow melts away. I've already had my castellan inform the cave divers to search for any deposits of saltpeter but that'll take time. Until then, I'll have to rely on good old-fashion trial and error to make saltpeter since I can't recall all the details.

I place the finished letter in a stack of response letters off to the side. One to my cousin Yara, congratulating her on the news of her pregnancy, tying us further to House Tallhart. Another is one to Benjen Stack discussing details of our planned two hundred mile long "Cailin Way".

I would be investing coin to turn a tiny, unnamed fishing hamlet at the mouth of the Fever River into a small port town. The plan is for oceangoing vessels to offload their cargo onto smaller river galleys and barges, able to traverse the shallow river up to about six leagues west of Moat Cailin. From there, a paved road will go east through the massive castle to an unnamed fishing hamlet on the eastern shore being developed by the Manderlys. The Starks plan to levy a small toll to use the shortcut but the Manderlys and us will be exempt due to our contributions. I will also gain special trade privileges to the soon-to-be named Feversmouth while the Manderlys would get a similar deal in the soon-to-be named Port Cailin.

To the left is another pile comprising of the two letters I have yet to respond to, such as the one from Dagwell on events transpiring in the Red Keep. The king recently ordered the expansion of the royal fleet to over two hundred and fifty ships from the current one-hundred and fifty. He also notes quiet rumors of the Graftons and Tarths expanding their small fleets. Makes me wonder if Lord Stark will order the Manderlys to do the same. They've long maintained a robust merchant fleet and a handful of warships to protect White Harbor from pirates, but have never possessed a war fleet.

Underneath is a letter from Stannis. He writes of sending a few of my quickstone advisors to Sunstone to fortify the recently renamed wooden keep, Sunhold, and the pains of integrating my semaphore signal flags into the fleet. The prince inquired on establishing a local branch of my canning company in King's Landing to service the growing Royal Fleet and trade company. Both he and Dagwell mentioned my agreement with the Ibbenese generating controversy in court, with the queen and Northern houses the most upset.

I'm dragged out of my thoughts by the doors creaking open, looking up to see it's Myrra.

"Hugo? Are you coming to bed? It's nearly the Hour of the Bat." She says in a worried tone. Still in the black dress from earlier that brought out her hair and eyes, clasping a letter in her hand as she makes her way to me.

"Is it that late already?" I suppress a yawn before muttering. "…I need one of those kloks the court's obsessing over…"

"Aye, we sail for Blackpool early tomorrow and I don't wish to fall asleep too late." She says the last two words in a strange tone.

"Aye, just two more letters. I won't be able to write until we return so I'm getting caught up tonight." I rub my eyes.

"How did meeting with the shipbuilders go?" She asks as she reaches my desk, her tone neutral but I notice something is off. I tell her about the meeting with the Ibbenese shipbuilders, gauging her reaction.

"…Shipbuilder Bruk and Shipwright Horesso say with the furnaces finally installed after delays, that leaves only the mast and sails. The ship should be ready for its maiden voyage when we return." I finish. She nods and hums before her eyes meet mine. Knowing I'm waiting for her to get to the heart of the matter, she sighs.

"Hugo…" She struggles with her words. "…What was your relationship with the queen before the Rebellion?" She finally says. I lean back in my chair, stunned.

"…Myrra, is this about the rumors of Lady Malora and I having an aff-?" I ask, taken aback by her strange question.

"No, Hugo! I know you're not bedding her! Just… Please answer the question!" She cuts me off with tired frustration. I hold her stare before sighing.

"Not much to say…" I shrug. "We've met thrice before the Rebellion. Once the Starks came to Castle Warg when I was younger, before Lord Stark left to foster in the Vale. The second was when I went with my father to Winterfell, who attempted to have us betrothed. The third time was at Harrenhall, where we briefly spoke at the tourney feast." Holding up a finger for each one. "Why are you asking me this?" I anxiously inquire.

Myrra hands me the letter in her hand. "This is from Cersei…" She's been keeping her own correspondence with Cersei. Only natural since the two were childhood friends and I'm friends with her husband. I take the letter and begin to read.

Dear Myrra,

Winter is such a dreadful time. I don't know how the wolf bitch enjoys riding in the cold…

I skim through Cersei's unhinged rant on how the queen stole her birthright until I get to a part to causes my blood freeze.

…Arrogant bitch acts all high and mighty like her brother, looking down on us Lannisters! Those pathetic lackwits in court might be fooled into believing she has grace, but she's nothing more than a heathen whore playing queen! Yet most curiously, whenever I mention your husband, she tenses up! The mighty she-wolf is replaced with a meek mouse at the sound of his name! Did something happen between your husband and the queen?...

I feel a pit in my stomach as I read that part again. I feel myself grow heavy with dread and confusion that the queen is wary of me, but why!? I indirectly aided her rescue, so why would she fear me! The more I try to wrap my mind around it, the less sense it makes!

I read the rest of the letter hoping for some kind of clue. I roll my eyes when Cersei writes of "rumors that your husband has taken the Hightower wench as his mistress…". Then slog through

more unhinged ranting about how the Seastarks are the only "civilized house in the North besides the Manderlys" thanks to my wife's "thin Lannister blood". She then goes on to say if she becomes queen, she'd convince Stannis to give Winterfell to my house before turning around and complaining about how he's such a bore unless they're "hawking, fucking, or both". The letter ends with a single sentence asking Myrra how things in Castle Warg are, writing she's 'losing her wager to Jeyne'.

Wait, what wager?

"Myrra, I don't know why the queen is wary of me, but I swear on the Old Gods nothing happened between us." I firmly declare, still baffled and unsure what to make of this. Karstark's drunken words and Baelish's insolent scribblings flash in my mind.

"…The Queen sees you for the Greystark you are!"

"…What happened to make the queen choose the Karstarks!"

I run a hand through my hair, my breathes becoming shallow.

"It doesn't make any sense! I made the wayfinder that allowed her brother to rescue her with haste! Begged him to take the very midwife that would deliver her son and take a bolt for her! My uncle fucking died for her in Dorne! Why the fuck would she be afraid or wary of me!?" My voice grows more heated as I list the ways I aided the queen.

I barely hear Myrra telling me she believes me as my mind races a mile a minute trying to figure how to respond.

How do I even go about fixing this? Should I write to her directly? Or through Lord Stark, my liege? Or mayhaps Benjen, the Stark I'm the closest to? Would a letter even be enough or will we have to meet face-to-face to sort this out? Can it even be fixed? Shit, do Lord Stark and Benjen feel the same way as their sister!? Do the other Northern lords feel this way!?

"I need to write a letter… Have to clear up this mess!" I mutter hurriedly, leaning forward to grab a new scroll as my thought continue to spiral. I stare at the blank scroll with quill in hand, unsure who I'm even writing to.

Suddenly, two soft hands clasp my shoulders, causing me to freeze before I feel them start to squeeze and knead like they were making bread. I briefly glance over my shoulder to see Myrra leaning over me with warm green eyes and a sympathetic smile. I feel myself melting under her tender touch as my eyes return to the blank scroll. My quill hovers over the scroll, wondering if I should write to the queen directly or through Ned or Benjen.

"You're stressed…" She whispers into my ear and I feel myself grow hot as I feel her breath on my ear.

"My trade company, managing a city in winter, preparing for the Ironborn to rebel, tensions in the Stepstones, and now I find out, that for some unknown reason, the queen hates me. I got a lot on my plate." I let out an exhausted chuckle.

"Hm. But you're forgetting an urgent issue that demands your immediate attention." I tense up again at her words, racking my mind for what she could be referring to, only to hear her giggle at my confusion.

"My friend is with child again, her sixth, and yet we still only have four. It's been over six moons since Jeyne's birth, Hugo! You need to do your duty and aid me in winning this wager!" I feel a shiver slide down my spine.

Oh, that wager. The one she's guaranteed to lose going up against the woman who had a dozen children in the books.

"My duty, huh?" I say as my lips curl into a grin. I begin to write the words Dear Lord Stark,…

"Aye, your most important duty, my lord husband." I suppress a shiver when she says the last three words in a sultry tone but keep writing.

"Work before pleasure, my lady wife." I counter and I don't have to look around to know Myrra's pouting.

"Very well then…" I feel her breathe disappear as she stands upright but continues kneading my shoulders like dough. "I hope you don't keep me waiting, Hugo. I miss my favorite bedroom game…" She trails off as the kneading ceases and she begins to walk around my desk.

"Is it the one where you're the queen and I'm but a humble servant?" I ask confidently. After all, Myrra loves it when I pamper her, both inside and outside the bedroom.

"Close…" She smirks. "…It's the one I play a poor, pious, Southron maiden, captured by a cold, barbaric Northman in a raid…" The sultry tone returns with a vengeance, causing me to blush. I pause my scribbling and glance up to see her at the foot of my desk, eyes almost glowing in the lamplight. "…And you play the savage skinchanger that proceeds to…"

"Hold her hand and fuck her gently!" I jape dryly, bringing my wife's bedroom fantasy to a screeching halt. We stare each other down for a moment before bursting with laugher.

"Oh, my silly Lord-husband, no…" She says, getting her laughter under control but still blushing. Bending over to give me an excellent view of her cleavage, her voice becomes sultry again. "…He ravishes her!" Then makes her way to the door, drawing my eyes to the extra sway in her hips. She doesn't look back, but I know she's smirking at my reaction.

When she reaches the door, she looks back at me. "For the record, Hugo…" She says with a sultry smirk and green eyes gleaming with desire. "…While I enjoy it when you're gentle, I prefer when you're rough!" She leaves with a final parting shot in our little game.

I stare at the closed door for a moment, blush creeping up my neck. I begin scribbling hurriedly, making sure Lord Stark knew that I'm "concerned his sister views me as a Gold and not as a Northman.".

After a few minutes, the letter is finished. I place it in the finished pile and respond to the other two letters. To Dagwell, I order him to investigate the origins of the rumors Malora and I having an affair. To Stannis, I regretfully inform him that I'm currently training more quickstone advisors but when finished, a few will be sent to Storm's End. I confirm my interest in an expansion into the capital and give some advice on the semaphore flags. I finish by informing him of events in the Summer Islands. How the Three Daughters are using local allies to strike at our trade partners as Euron Greyjoy reaves with his Three Exile lackeys, cautioning that if tensions keep rising, the Summer Islands could become a bloodbath.

When finished, I turn a knob on the whale oil lamp to lower the wick before carefully blowing out the flame. My solar is still lit by the embers of a dying hearth as I walk over and pull a lever next to the hearth, closing the dampers and starving the surviving embers of air. After a moment, the embers dim further, and I leave to join Myrra…

The next day…

"Now your father and I will be gone for a few moons. I expect you two to be on your best behavior with your grandmother and uncle Edric, alright? If I hear you've been naughty, then no sweets and bedtime stories for the both of you!" Myrra say to the twins, Torrhen being held by my mother and Myranda being held by Katiya, the former pillow slave turned maid. Two more maids stand beside them, holding a six moon old Jeyne and a two nameday-old Stannis.

I fight to keep my face serious when their eyes widen like saucers and mouths gape in horror. "No, Mama! We'll be good!" Torrhen pleads, greenish-gray eyes full of childish fear.

"We'll hold you to that. If I hear you two are well behaved, you might receive a gift…" I join in.

"We will, Papa!" Myranda immediately declares.

Myrra and I drop the serious façade and smile, planting on kiss on a cheek of both twins before doing the same for Stannis and Jeyne. "We'll be back, I promise. Remember, your mother and I love you!" I say one last thing.

"Love you too, mama and papa!" Both twins cry out happily.

"We will await your return my son." My mother leaves with our children and the maids, having already said her farewells to the others.

My wife and I make our way over to the leaving party. Wyman and Elsa were talking to Malora and Jonos while Marwyn is explaining something to the fosterlings.

"Alright, are we ready to head off?" I interrupt their conversations and receive affirmatives.

"Aye, I have my writings!" Marwyn pulls out a bundle of parchments. Written proudly on the front is a mouthful of a title: On the Potential for the Domestication of Spotted Whales. Guess scholars are the same in any world.

We mount up and ride out with the luggage train and an unmanned horse following behind.

"Hard to believe my time here is over. I admit to becoming fond of this place." Malora says as we ride.

"You'll be close enough to visit and with you being family, you'll be here more often than you think." We both look out into the bay. She searches for any black dorsal fins slicing through the surface. I sense Driver a half mile away from the docks.

"Did you have fun swatting the seal?" I ask and her face lights up.

"Yes! Orca was showing the calves and I how to hunt seals. I never knew they could toss them so high! Though I did feel a bit sorry for the poor creature. It was a battered, bloody mess by the time they put it out of its misery." She says, turning slightly regretful at the end.

"That's just how they hunt and teach. Do we not do something similar? Fathers take their sons out to kill a deer or a boar to help them grow as men. It might seem cruel to us but that's what they know." Malora ponders my words.

"You're right. If there's one thing I've learned in my time with Orca is that they have emotions disturbingly similar to us. There were moments that felt more like interacting with another woman than a spotted whale!" She says as her betrothed brings his horse near us.

"I swear, the more I hear you describe your experiences with the spotted whales, the stranger they sound!" Jono Slate slides into the conversation, flashing a smile at his betrothed.

"You say that now, but you'll be singing a different tune when I have the pod around Blackpool aiding the fishermen…" Malora argues playfully and I silently observed the couple.

They certainly weren't head over heels, but they've steadily become more comfortable around one another over the moons. We're sailing to Blackpool for the two to have their Old Gods' wedding and for Malora to form a bond with the local pod. From there it's Seagard, then Fair Isle to dine with the Farmans and Cliftons in what has become a ritual to visit Myrra's best friend whenever we're in the area. Lannisport is next to inspect my canning factory, and finally Oldtown for the New Gods' wedding, inspecting the canning factory there, and visiting the Citadel.

"…Take comfort in knowing my wife is with the spotted whales beneath the waves." Jonos says warmly to his betrothed before turning his face to me. "I may not have the gift, but I have seen how you and the smallfolk hunt with the spotted whales and wish for the same in Blackpool. When you establish your whaling company, House Slate will happily join!" The heir of House Slate boldly declares.

"I'll hold you to it!" I grin back at him, having long decided to incorporate the Slates into my future whaling company. Since they'll have they're own spotted whales, working with them instead of competing against them will be better for our houses in the long run.

We reach the halfway point, where the road branches off to where the former slaves are staying. Mirri stands with her belongings, attended by Korra and a few Lhazareen men and women bidding her goodbye. She says something back in their foreign tongue and mounts the riderless horse brought with us. Her eyes meet mine and gives me a small smile and nod before turning to speak with Marwyn.

We continue riding until we reach the gates, manned by city guard donning brand new steel helms and brandishing newly forged steel weapons. The rest of their armor replacement is still a work in progress as they bow and wave us through.

As we enter the city, the first thing I notice is a sea of people, the winter cold failing to prevent its streets from becoming crowded. The second thing I notice is the absence of the stench of human waste that use to hang over the city. People no longer threw their waste into the streets and used soap far more frequently than before. A complete sewer system, combined with my Cleanliness Edicts and cheap, available soap, has created a far cleaner city. I still have to subsidize the production of basic soap for the smallfolk but having healthier, less smelly smallfolk is a worthy expense in my book.

The crowd parts ways as we head north on Wolf's Street, flanked by the thirty foot tall western sea wall that separates the harbor from the city. Three and ten scorpions are spread out across its length with more to follow. We pass by an eight-foot tall wrought iron pole with a whale oil lamp perched on top, one of dozens currently being built along the largest streets, the docks, and the metalworks. These street lamps are part of my effort to modernize Wolfsport, making it safer with better lighting at night. Wolfsport certainly isn't crime-ridden like Flea Bottom but it still has its fair share. A side-effect is the stench of human waste being replaced by the odor of whale oil.

Passing the High Street that acts as the spine of the city, running from the western harbor to the east gate, I glance in both directions. To my right, leading deeper into the city, is a large marketplace, with rows of vendors selling all kinds of wares. To my left, under the shadow of the Merchant's Gate that leads to the harbor, is a large fish market with fishwives selling the latest catch of the day.

"FRESH SALMON! HERDED BY SPOTTED WHALES!"

"HUMPBACK MEAT! HUNTED BY THE SEA MESSENGERS!"

"OYSTERS, CLAMS, AND COCKELS!"

Wooden boards of crudely painted orcas were hammered onto some stalls and most had small, carved wooden figurines of spotted whales on them. Oddly enough, I noticed some stalls have tiny wooden dolphins figurines alongside the wooden spotted whales. The fish market is unsurprisingly packed, with seafood being a vital source of food in winter years. The customers seem to gravitate towards the stalls with spotted whale signs and carvings and I see a surprising amount of them are purchasing whale meat. Whale meat used to be a rare commodity but has since become much more readily available thanks to the spotted whales and my growing whaling industry.

"This is where we part ways, dear husband. Elsa and I will meet you later at the castle." My wife rides off with Elsa and two guards.

Wyman and I continue on with two guards flanking us, passing by a bakery, a shop advertising lamps and whale oil, and a tavern with a sign baring an intoxicated clam chugging a horn of black beer to reach another important intersection, this time between Wolf's Steet and Pillow Street. To my right are numerous brothels like The Precious Pearl, Lucky Mermaid, and the Summer Islander-owned Frisky Dolphin. The latter being particularly popular if the number of patrons entering and leaving its doors is any indication.

We turn left, heading towards another, smaller fish market with a Summer Islander-run stall smack dab in the middle, selling spices and kofi to the wealthier smallfolk. A single small wooden dolphin and spotted whale carving each sit on their stall like many of the others. Next to it is a food vendor run by a Northman serving freshly cooked spiced fish, its mouthwatering aroma tempts us but we continue to the Fishermen's Gate, taking us to the docks.

The harbor stretches out in both directions with my quickstone quay near completion to the south. When finished by spring, it'll increase the harbor capacity by over a quarter. Not that it's needed now with less ships venturing up here in winter. Even still, there's plenty of ships and people in the harbor. Directly in front of us is the Summer Islander trading post formerly owned by the Xaq Clan of Koj but now owned by the Xaq Clan of Wolfsport, a recently created cadet clan. The trading post itself is quite humble, being made up of a single pier, a warehouse, and a small administrative building.

The first thing that strikes me is that the orange, triangular pennant-shaped banner that stood over the administrative building has been replaced with the familiar square banner ubiquitous in Westeros. The banner is split in half horizontally with the top half being a golden swan spreading its wings next to a silver dolphin on a field of orange and the bottom half a spotted whale on sky blue. Dozens of Summer Islander men and a few women move about the trading post dressed in the same heavy furs as the locals. Most of the women aren't at the trading post but instead working in the various brothels of Wolfsport.

We ride past the small headquarters and I spot Captain Okonkwo and his two young sons around Breyna standing outside with snow bear pelts wrapped around them. The captain's teak colored face is worn by the long years at sea, with a short, neatly trimmed beard with flecks of gray, and his long, gold and seashell studded dreadlocks spill out of his ushanka. His elder son looks on the cusp of manhood like Edric with seashell studded cornrows poking out behind his ushanka and peach fuzz on his chin. His younger brother meanwhile, looks to be around Breyna's age, baby fat still on his face with shorter dreadlocks peeking out of his cap. Upon spotting us, the three smile and cross their arms fists to shoulders and bow in the custom of their people. The captain's wife, Lady Notomi and their three adult daughters are nowhere to been seen, probably working at The Frisky Dolphin. His daughters, the eldest as old as Malora and the youngest a year or two older than Edric, have already acquired a reputation as the Black Pearls of Wolfsport. I grin and wave my hand as we pass by.

We finally reach the pier where the Swift Wind lays anchored and dismount. My eyes gaze northwards to the whalery further up the docks where the baleen, meat, blubber, and bone harvested from hunts is processed into various products. It's already working at maximum capacity but will be aided by the new whaling ship being constructed a few piers down. The unfinished ship has the hull of a large barque and reminds me of the old Nantucket whaling ships of nineteenth century America. It's three masts have yet to be placed on it, planned to have three square-rigged forward masts and fore-and-aft rigged mizzen masts. The real magic will be the brick furnaces called tryworks recently installed that will boil the blubber into oil. This means the crew can process the blubber out at sea instead of having to come ashore to the whalery, allowing for much longer voyages like the Ibbenese whalers. Our whaling will no longer be confined to the tip of Sea Dragon Point, free to expand throughout the northern Sunset Sea.

A dark blue banner flies proudly above the whalery, depicting a crimson-leaved white heart tree with roots stretched out beside a spotted whale clutching a bloodied whale tongue in its jaws. I had asked the whalers to design their own banner and they did so with glee, taking my fake sermon of a connection between spotted whales and the Old Gods as gospel. They, along with the fishermen, are the most zealous supporter's of Driver's pod, holding them as sacred as direwolves.

Speaking of Driver, I sense him swimming for the docks as we walk to the clipper, servants and luggage following behind. Marwyn and Mirri speak in hushed whispers and Wyman informs the rest of events in the Summer Islands, drawing unnerved faces and anxious comments on the growing strife.

"Hail, land-friend!" I hear the voice of a young man, but his words sound like they're dubbed over happy whistles and clicks. What's strange is his voice sounds like a cheesy, underpaid anime dub voice actor from my childhood. The sudden noise draws the attention of the others.

"Hail, sea-friend!" I turn around and greet Driver, spy-hopping out of the water, brown eyes staring at me with his mouth hung open, showing his sharp teeth.

"Are we swimming to the podkin this day?" He asks me before turning to see the others staring at us. "Hail, friends and family of land-friend!" He greets them despite knowing they can't understand him. An interesting quirk with their speech is they struggle with names so instead they assign nicknames and epitaphs, such as mine being "land-friend" and Myrra's being "land-friend's green-eyed mate". These epitaphs can change depending on their perception and opinion on the person.

"Aye Driver, we make sail for Blackpool. Is the pod ready to leave?" I ask him before turning to the stunned group. "Driver gives his greetings." I translate, sparking reactions from them. The lads look on with awe, looking at Driver the same way I use to look at T-Rexs in my childhood. Marwyn scrambles to get out his personal notebook to record more research while Mirri just looks lost. Wyman, Elsa, and Myrra, long used to my antics, greet Driver with a bow and curtsies. Jonos struggles to comprehend what he's witnessing while his betrothed beams at Driver and curtsies herself.

"Greetings Driver! Is Orca nearby?" Malora asks the spotted whale, who makes a joyful clicking sound despite not understanding a single word she said.

"Lady Malora greets you and asks if your mother is nearby." I translate to Driver, feeling like Mirri from yesterday.

The whale in question reacts with a high-pitch squeal-like noise. "Hail, land-friend's purple-eyed mate! Mother is close by. We are ready to swim to the podkin!" My eye twitches at his new nickname for Malora. Damnit, even the pod thinks I'm bedding her!

I translate his words, deliberately omitting his name for Malora. Suddenly, a second spotted whale breeches their head above the surface before repositioning themselves to spy-hop. Malora beams, immediately recognizing the newcomer.

"Orca!" She curtsies. "Always good to see you!" I translate to Driver, who translates to Orca, who herself makes a whistling noise with a series of clicks.

"Mother hails land-friend's purple-eyed mate. Grandmother will speak with the other matriarch and find a good match for her!" Malora's smile widens at my translation of only the second sentence.

"You have my thanks, Orca! I will miss you and the pod but I promise we'll visit often, won't we my betrothed?" She turns and gives Jonos a look that indicates the only acceptable answer is "yes".

"Aye, we will." Jonos wisely gives in, instinctually knowing this isn't a good hill to die on. When their words reach Orca though Driver and I, she makes more orca sounds.

"Mother says Grandmother welcomes you to our waters any time! Now we must return to the pod, we have much swimming to do!" They duck under the surface when I finish translating Orca's words and swim off deeper into the bay.

Malora smiles brightly while the other adults look equal parts awed and disturbed at the game of interspecies telephone they just witnessed. Marwyn continues scribbling in his notebook muttering to himself and by the faces of the fosterlings, they're still gob smacked I can speak with Driver. I ignore the disturbed looks of the servants carrying our luggage aboard, glancing between me and where Driver and his mother just were. Their faces unsure whether I've gone mad or if the spotted whales truly are divine messengers.

"Alright, show's over! Let's get aboard!" I quickly say we make our way towards the gangplank.

"Is Lady Malora going to talk to spotted whales like you do?" Jonos asks in a low voice as we ascend.

"Aye, once she fully develops a bond, she'll be able to speak to and understand her bond-mate and only them." He nods at my explanation.

"Well then, I guess Blackpool's about to get stranger!" The Slate heir softly japes and I chuckle as we climb aboard the clipper.

Soon enough, the ship raises anchor and sets sail. As the clipper's speed climbs to six-and-ten knots, eight jet-black dorsal fins surface and slice through the water. The pod swims alongside us in a perfect V-formation with Old Gladys in front. Together, we exit the bay and turn south, making for Blackpool…

A/N: Whew! Finally done. Real life got in the way and work is only getting crazier with the holiday season upon us.

Hugo and co. discover the secret to "true" dragonpowder. Decided to lean into dragonglass' magical properties since that seems to be the main difference between it and our world's obsidian. He's definitely going to keep it a secret before unleashing on the Ironborn. Even after the war he'll try to hold on to the secret.

Meanwhile, tensions rise in the Summer Islands as the animosity between the Seven Kingdoms and the Three Daughters intensifies. I see the Summer Islanders as too populous and developed to be outright colonized but they do have a huge weakness. The lack of a king or queen means foreign powers can play the clans off one another like pieces of a cyvasse board. This is why when war breaks out, it'll not only spread to the Summer Islands, but puts it in danger of a Boogaloo. I see their history is similar to Yi-Ti/Chinese history. Mainly defined by mostly peaceful periods of unity and disunity with brief spouts of Hotel Rwanda sprinkled throughout.

The former slaves will be interesting as they are mainly divided into two camps, the Old Gods converts and the Lhazareen/Great Shepherd worshippers. The Old Gods converts are closer to Edric and are eager to assimilate, aiming to become "tanned Northerners".

The Lhazareen in contrast, free from religious and linguistic slavery and persecution, jealously guard their religion and language. Hugo knows forcing assimilation with a group like that is only going to end badly, so he's willing to work with them. This is something they notice and appreciate, earning their loyalty. It's also beginning to dawn on them that being a serf in Westeros, while certainly not great, is leagues better than being a Dothraki slave.

Hugo also finally gets a clue that the queen isn't as fond of him as he assumed and has a mild freakout. The revelation shakes him because he genuinely thought his relations with the Starks was good, even great. Now's he's wondering if Ned views him with wary suspicion. Hugo ultimately wrote to Ned because he's his liege and the queen's brother and he doesn't feel comfortable enough to write to the queen directly.

I also wanted to describe more of Wolfsport and some of the changes Hugo has introduced like streetlamps.

Driver finally speaks! I'm going to have him give a nickname to everyone he comes across, some humorous.

Also, editing this on my own was a slog and I'm certain I still missed things. I'm announcing that I'm looking for an editor if anyone if interested. I going to try write smaller chapters in the hope I can get them out faster. Enjoy!

 

[Eerrw]

Drogbas of Ivory Town

Click to shrink...

Are we deadass rn

 

[ATP]

Thanks for chapter.And it is really strange,that Queen hate him.
P.S strange animals - Giant Slooths and armadillios.Considering that dinosaurs probably survived in Congo till WW2,use them,too.