15

286 AC – Part II

My solar had long since become my most frequented room and I even had taken a shine to the name and not called it 'office' in years. In this case it was actually literal as the room was one of the few in the castle with fitted windows that allowed more sunlight into the room than nearly any other room in the castle could enjoy.

Papers of all sorts covered my desk and I could all but feel Wyndal's disapproving gaze in my mind even though the man was currently not even close by, some task or another having called him down to the Blackport. I on the other hand had my hands full catching up after my trip to the mountains. While it had been very informative and then some it still left me in a situation where I had to shift through the accumulated paperwork after arriving home again. Alysanne, great as she was, really wasn't into the whole 'governing thing' as she should have been, given her new position.

Lord Glover and a small retinue would be visiting in a few weeks to talk about the imminent Blackwood immigration and some other topics Galbart did not wish to name within a letter. Sensible of him, I suppose… I still did not trust the maesters and their control over the written word in most of its forms. If I took into account that I might not have made the best impression upon the maester of Deepwood Motte the last time I passed through and my own had not lived long past his arrival, this actually counted at least double.

Leaning back into my chair and sipping on my Glógg, which had become my favorite drink, I frown. The Blackwoods and their retinue would be finishing their preparations in a month or two and start to move soon after. Reports from down south suggested that the peace agreement in the Riverlands was shaky at best, fanatics skirmishing against Blackwood forces nearly daily. If my – more Wyndal's – sources were to be believed this had quickly led to a lot of casualties and property damage… and to the number of potential immigrants rising sharply to nearly 55.000 souls. First men and believers in the old ways from all over the Riverlands congregated around Raventree Hall, making the unstable situation even more prone to exploding. I would breathe a lot easier once the exodus moved past Moat Cailin and at least this crisis would go back to smoldering instead of outright burning.

Taking another sip I look at my own population numbers, blink with some surprise and reread it again before summoning Wyndal. The man appears half an hour later, slightly out of breath and dusty as he had obviously just jumped off a horse. I hold up the parchment and point at the numbers without delay.

"Are those correct?"

He squints his eyes for a moment before recognizing the reason for my question and nodding. "Aye, Milord. They are."

"We received two thousand refugees in the last four weeks?!", I ask in complete disbelief.

"We did.", Wyndal grunts and helps himself to some of the Glógg I had placed on top of the stone bordering the fireplace to keep it well heated. He sighs contently at the taste and takes a seat across from me before elaborating.

"The situation within the Riverlands is completely out of control. While some of the larger houses are keeping the peace within their domain – by making examples most of all – most of the Paramountcy is in what I would call a state of civil unrest… at best."

"That is all fine and good", I reply slowly before pointing again at the numbers, "...this is still A LOT of people."

He grunts, nodding. "It is and it will get worse before it gets better."

"Explain.", I state evenly and he does.

"While most smallfolk fleeing the Riverlands gather around Lord Blackwood there are many more that cannot reach him without crossing areas...infested...by the faith militant. They have been heading for the coasts instead and paid whoever they could find to ferry them north. The Manderlys have also seen a great increase in immigrants, hundreds arriving in White Harbor every week."

I stay silent for a moment, thoughts whirling. "Has lord Stark been informed? Lord Glover? How are the Mallisters taking it? How many more are we expecting?"

"Lord Stark has been informed, as has Lord Glover. I suspect the situation is part of why we will be hosting him in the near future."

Humming in thoughtful agreement I wave the man to go on, which he does after enjoying a little more of his drink. "The Mallisters are keeping their lands under control… mostly. But even they struggle to contain the religious violence completely and mostly focus on getting the believers in the old faith – the most probable victims of this – north as soon as possible. They have been stacking people like firewood on every ship they can get their hands on and send them north. Some are heading for Flint's Finger or Barrowtown but most are heading for Blackport. Thankfully house Mallister has good relations north, other – less connected houses – have been rumored to simply expel the followers of the old gods or… so rumors say… outright burned some at the stake for blasphemy."

He takes a deep breath and hesitates, glancing at the creaking wood where my fingers threatened to shatter my armrest by the pressure I put on it in my angered disbelief, for a moment before plowing on. "Considering the situation I estimate the number of arrivals to continue increasing until they lands south of the neck are mostly in Andal hands… we should prepare for many thousands of immigrants to arrive over the next month and years… and then there is also this. It arrived not half an hour past."

Already struck dump at the numbers my mind came up with at this new information I take the letter with the seal of house Mallister from Wyndal in a near stupor. Simply holding the message for a moment as my mind reboots I place it on my desk, unopened for the moment.

"Can we absorb these numbers?"

He shrugs, a small smile growing on his face. "Yes… yes, we can. If the next summer lasts at least two years and the fisherboats continue to be as successful as they have been. Much will depend on that."

I breathe slightly easier, before glancing down at the letter. "We will come back to that in a minute… let me take care of this first."

Wyndal nods silently and leans back to wait for me to read the message, sipping his drink contently.

Lord Ryther,

The situation with the faith is escalating. Fostering your son – while a great honor – is no longer safe. I will not risk his wellbeing and implore you to keep him north.

Refugees are entering Seaguard by the thousands. If you can spare ships, send them. We can only transport so many.

Regards,

Lord Jason Mallister

"Speak of the devil", I mutter and look up to find Wyndal waiting patiently, if a little confused at my words. Right, the devil wasn't really a concept Westeros knew about.

Turning to the side I ring a small bronze bell on my desk, which immediately summons a servant. "Get Harren and Hoster… Gregor as well."

As the servant vanishes I return my attention to Wyndal, handing him the letter. He reads it at once, eyebrows raising. "Well…"

He pauses, clearing his throat. "Well… that is hardly surprising if a little more faster than estimated."

I grunt, annoyed. "Aye, it is. Taken together with the Blackwoods and our task to see them settled this will put quite a strain on house Ryther. Can we take it in addition to what we just talked about?"

Wyndal stares emptily at the wall for a long moment before nodding slowly. "We can, Milord. It will strain the treasury nearly to the breaking point yet again but we can… the mine and other revenues have allowed us to build some reserves that should be able to weather the expenses this will incur."

"Any opinion regarding the fostering of my son?", I inquired a moment later, breathing slightly easier at the judgment of a man I trusted deeply.

"House Mormont", he replies at once and nearly laughs at my startled expression. "While a lot older than house Ryther they would stand to gain a lot by having better relations and might be amiable to the request."

"See it done", I nod at him and turn to the door, where Gregor has just entered and stopped with a small bow. Harren and Hoster would likely take longer to arrive but it fit my agenda well as it was.

"Gregor… are you aware of the current situation?", I inquired, having remembered that he was actually a bastard of some Blackwood branch. He manages to hide his reaction well but I can nonetheless spot the hint of a grimace in his expression.

"Aye, Milord. My...family… is coming north."

"They are", I verify and focus completely on the man. "We have not yet been able to locate the Blackwood and are running out of time. More so as we now have to stamp out more fires than ever before…"

Pausing a moment after muttering the last part more to myself than to the room I continue. "Take fifty able men and find me your ancestral home… and do it fast. We have little time. I do not care if the ones you chose are of the men at arms or good smallfolk hunters. Take the best trackers you can find and get it done. They will be rewarded accordingly."

"As you command", he bows and takes his leave. I watch the closing door for a long moment, musing about the man that had won the first archery competition and risen to some prominence within my forces since. The recent tournament had passed without my presence, a Riverlander immigrant team taking the trophy this year.

Gregor by now was renowned as an able tracker and archer of prodigious skill, the second which I had the opportunity to verify myself. I was confident that he would be able to navigate the northern wilds and hopefully find what I had been looking for for months. That I might have just handed him a lot of ammunition in his family relations, should he actually manage to discover the Blackwood, pales against my need for the most able to be set at the task. I had maybe half a year left before the Blackwoods would arrive on my doorstep and was feeling the pressure.

Harren and Hoster arrive half an hour later, quietly listening as I explain the situation to them.

"How many ships can we spare and can we keep the peace with the new arrivals?", I finally outright asked both men.

"At your command I can send the whole fleet south but those ships stationed up north...and would actually recommend it.", Hoster states at once and I wave him on to expand on his answer.

"With the addition of the longships and cogs the new shipyard has built, we now have 28 ships available. 16 longships, two galleys, ten cogs of various sizes. It is a little more than thousand miles to Seaguard, which will take some time to traverse… and the waters south of cape Kraken are dangerous, close to the Iron Islands as they are. With two longships and two cogs to keep Snowford running this will leave us with a fleet of 24 ships… which can carry a lot of people. Not in comfort but that wasn't the task in the first place."

"And the ironborn raids?"

He sneers at the wall. "The reavers have been spotted less and less in northern waters. If we move now and in force we will be back before they can take advantage of our absence. A risk remains, of course. The fleet itself will be reasonably safe, I think. This many ships are not a tempting target. I would nonetheless advise only to take the whole fleet once. After that the element of surprise will be lost and the reavers might be waiting for us to leave the coast undefended a second time… they will not miss such an opportunity twice."

I grunt, mulling over the dilemma I am faced with. If I send the fleet I would leave the western coast dangerously exposed but I suspected that even my most adherent detractors could not fault my motives if I send the fleet to rescue fellow first men… not after the rumors of witch burnings reach my countrymen. Mentally weighing pros and cons for a moment more I nod decisively, my voice likely sounding more tired than I wanted to let on.

"Hoster, take the fleet south. Take on as many as you can manage and pay as many merchants as you can find in Seaguard to take yet more… bring them home. Wyndal, inform Lord Mallister to expect help soon and Lords Stark and Glover about the situation. Harren… just get it done. You know what to do."

All three men nod and stand to leave.

"Wyndal, Harren, please stay for a moment."

My semi maester and my master at arms sit down again as Hoster vacates the premise.

"Both of you know that I and my holdings, now my son as well, have been attacked by bandits paid by… someone. I intend to put an end to it and have asked myself a question that I should have posed a lot earlier."

I pause for effect. "Just how do those brigands always know where I am or plan to travel to?"

Both men stay silent but I can see the widening of their eyes as they come to the same realization I had arrived at. "A spy", Harren whispers as anger begins to grow within him.

"Or more than one", I agree. "And there are not that many people who know my plans in advance… so this person would have to be highly placed or at least have access to highly placed persons. I want both of you to check who of your subordinates. Your acolytes and captains are the most likely suspects from where I am standing."

"We will find him… or her.", promises Harren, "And we will have a look at your staff as well. Servants are always present but rarely noticed."

I nod somewhat startled, not having considered them. Stupid! I knew that servants had access to a lot of things but I had fallen into the same trap so many other nobles did, not really noticing the hired help that tried its best to stay as invisible as possible most of the time. Mentally slapping myself a few times I promise myself to be more alert in my direct vicinity.

"You are correct, Harren. Please take a good look at them as well… but be careful and light in your touch. We do not want to alert the spy… or at least not poison the innocents against house Ryther."

"Aye, my Lord. Anything else?"

I sigh, feeling very tired as one clusterfuck followed another. Sometimes I felt like I was drowning in problems but at the same time I was supremely grateful to have competent subordinates. "Yes… The Faith of the Seven is whipping the south into a frenzy of violence. Are we seeing the same in Blackport?"

"No", states Wyndal at once, interrupting any answer Harren might have given and receiving an annoyed glance from the man in consequence, which he ignores with years of practise. "The new arrivals are for the most part not fanatics. Those madmen would not come north to 'heathen territory' if their life depended on it. We do not even have many septons or septas in Blackport as far as I knew. The few that there are are discret in their dealings and take care of their flock without inciting or preaching any sort of violence. In fact, they have been more amiable to peaceful relations than some of the older residents of Blackport."

"Make sure", I command at once. "If you find any that steer a more fanatical way quietly place them on a ship south and gently… encourage… them to stay there. While I will not judge the followers of the Seven by the situation brewing down south I will also not abide fanatics and risk growing the problem at home."

"As you wish, my Lord", nods Harren and both men take their leave not much later, leaving me to enjoy the silence for a moment. Nathan barges into the room a moment later, looking excited and chattering a mile a minute. I mentally groan as I smile at the boy. Some days you just could not catch a break.

Two weeks later I am yet again taking care of correspondence, struggling against the bane that was paperwork. A letter from house Frey asking me to take on some of their youngest for fostering because I was obliged to do so in memory of my mother was swiftly replied to and denied, the reason given that I felt it ill advised to move any youths across borders with the current troubles. Why, I had even dissolved my own sons fostering with house Mallister! I cannot help but feel a little glee at turning down the 'request' that had been worded more like an order, which had rankled me greatly. I might have a family connection to the twins but that did not mean that Walder fucking Frey could order me to do as he wished!

Before I can get deeper into the mountain of parchment a servant informs me that the retinue of lord Glover had been spotted on the road, his arrival imminent. Glad to have an excuse to leave my solar behind for a few hours, I move for the courtyard, where Glabart and his men arrive not fifteen minutes later.

"Darren!", the jovial man laughs and pats me on the shoulder hard enough to make me wince. "What is this about you inviting yet more trouble that I've heard about? Can't you get enough of it at home?"

I am struck mute for a moment by his boisterous attitude before dryly replying. "It just follows me around like a puppy. Not my fault." He only laughs harder and before long my laugh echoes around the courtyard as well, having been infected by his amusement.

"Be it as it may, Darren. We have some things to sort out, you and I.", he states after calming down again, suddenly much more serious. I simply nod and lead him back to my solar, which I sadly had only just left. I mentally sigh as I send a servant for refreshments and make myself ready for yet another conversation that I'd rather avoid.

"Where shall we start, my lord?", I ask simply after lord Glover had taken his place across from my still packed desk. He kept eying the mountains of paper for a moment longer before turning his attention completely to me.

"Where to start… ", he grumbles. "The Blackwood situation, your bandit problems, the forest stealing reavers and what I just heard you got up to with your fleet….let us start with the easiest. The bandits, have you found their source?"

"No, I have not.", I admit and scowl. "Whoever is behind the attacks is slippery but I am investigating. Right now mostly in my own home as I suspect that somebody is supplying information of my whereabouts to the brigands. If the person in question is found we might be able to follow it back, hopefully all the way up the ladder."

"Hopefully", he grunts before smiling a sigh escapes him. "This leads right up to another topic I wanted to talk to you about. You are aware that we are not currently at war, yes?"

"Yes?", I reply, somewhat confused.

"Then why, by the old gods and the new, are you losing half your men each time you leave your castle? Do you not know of the dangers on the road? Do you want to be avoided as bad luck?"

I am honestly struck silent – yet again – and blink at the man owlishly, Glabart having taken to massaging his temples with a scowl at my reaction. "Look, I get that you might feel small escorts while travelling are easier to handle… but by now the costs outweigh the benefits by far. Even I at Deepwood have heard rumors of those beholden to you not living long enough to see the fruits of their labour. I think that only your great victories are holding the doubters at bay… and that won't last if you continue to take losses like you have been."

"What would you have me do?", I ask somewhat helplessly. "Take fifty men along each time I leave and be known as craven because of it?"

"Yes! You are no longer a minor lord!", growls Galbart and points a finger straight at my face, "Stop thinking like one!"

I lean back in surprise as he continues to rant. "Of course you will take more men with you! It is not like you would be stripping your defences bare or are not proven in battle. How many men could you raise in case of war? 500? 1000? 2000? More?"

He continues before I can get in a word edgewise, the rant running over any reply I might have made like a runaway train. "You are easily my strongest vassal and have become so in less than ten years! So what if you take a tiny bit of your forces along as guards? There is someone out to get you! Even a blind and deaf man would be able to notice! Taking a just a dozen men is not craven, it shows the lack of common sense!"

Galbart stops himself from going further and leans back in his chair as well, sipping at his drink as he continues to glower at me. After a minute of painful silence he sighs, "Darren, you are yet young. In addition you lost your father too soon for him to beat any sense into you – which I mean in the best possible way. He was a great man and I will not abide you running into a barred sword because you think yourself lesser than you are. What I want to say is this. Mistakes are expected… correct this one before it ruins you."

I did the only thing I could and bowed my head slightly, "Aye, my lord. I will do so."

The other lord nods, satisfied. "Good. Onto more pressing topics… have you found the Blackwood yet?"

I grimace, the men I had sent not having reported back yet. "No", I admit tiredly. "I expect my scouts back within two weeks and pray for their success. Everything else is prepared… we only lack the location for the building to start."

"I did not think it would ever come to this, you know?", he muses and stares out of my window, a single dove cruising by in front of the clear blue sky.

"Neither did I", I added a moment later, having followed his gaze.

He continues, mind far away. "During the war I saw many a vile thing that stays with me even today, plaguing my dreams… yet none of those scare me in the way the re-ascendant faith militant does. To drive a powerful house off their land like they have… the consequences will be dire."

"They already are", I verify glumly. "My fleet is moving south as we speak to save who I can from being driven into the sea at Seaguard. The fanatics are growing more powerful by the day and before long the king will no longer be able to oppose them in any meaningful way, I suspect."

"Aye, I agree.", he nods, before turning to me again. "While rescuing our fellow believers is commendable this also is at odds with your task as Sealord… more so as you keep up your protection of the wildlings while at the same time stripping the defences of the remaining north bare. I would hear your reasoning behind what might yet make or break your reputation."

I gather my thoughts for a moment, sorting them in a way that would hopefully lead to a coherent answer. "My duty is and has always been to the people… which by my definition include those poor souls seeking salvation in the north. Add to that the fact that the ironborn seem to have taken to raid other, less defended, areas I took a risk… I estimate that we would lose another forest at the most, which while annoying can be replaced or better said, will regrow on its own without our help. The lives lost in the tension down south by my inaction will not and be lost forever… this is a blight I do not wish upon my soul."

"It is still a great risk to take", he cautions even after having nodded along with my explanation.

I agree without hesitation. "It is… and I will only send the whole fleet once. After that it will remain the tasks of my merchantmen but not the warships."

"And the wildlings?"

"The ships are too far away to be of any use in the endeavor", I reply at once, sticking to the story I had thought up days ago as I had long since suspected that the question might rise up. "I will also not risk less amiable wildling groups crossing the Bay of Ice… they are at this point a greater danger than the Ironborn. This of course will not stay so."

Galbart jumps at the bait at once. "Oh?"

"Yes, with all the wood the north and likely other places have lost over the last years I expect a sizeable Ironborn attack within five years. It may or may not hit the north but there will be an attack. Nothing else makes sense, considering the amount of lumber they are collecting… enough for many, many ships."

The lord stays silent for a long moment after having been confronted with my prediction. He stands up and refills his cup from the canter I had still placed on the mantle of my fireplace. "Did you know that one of the Greyjoy boys is being fostered at Dragonstone?"

"I did not", I admit, thoughts whirling. Taken together with the fact that the Targaryens likely had good connections with the faith and a vested interest in seeing Robert's reign end before it could stabilize...I already feel the headache coming. "This does not paint a pretty picture."

"Yes. I am grateful that we are not the only ones seeing it. Eddard has intensified the efforts to rebuild Moat Cailin and posted a permanent garrison of five hundred men there… which more than have been present since the days of the conqueror. Lord Manderly is building warships to protect the coast, as are you. You see where this is going?"

"War", I grunt. "In some way or another we will be at war soon… now it will be only the question of who the enemy will be. It does not seem that we lack applicants."

Lord Glover grins tiredly at my choice of words. "Well spoken. Yes, just so. All the more reason for you to take some care, yes?"

I glower at him, finding his attempt at humor less than funny after the tongue lashing I had received earlier. "At least whatever is brewing south strengthens the north with what we need most – people."

"There is that, yes", he admits readily. "We have already made up for the losses taken during the rebellion and much more besides. While I loath to see the other paramountcys, the Riverlands most of all, suffer I cannot deny that it has become a great boon to our people."

"If we can feed them"

"If we can feed them", he repeats with a nod and wriggles his finger at me. "Which is where you come in, closing the loop. We need to find the Blackwood soon… or you will have to prepare some other place for the arrival of lord Tytos and his people. They cannot be allowed to be left without home or help."

"I will see it done, Galbart. One way or another."

He nods, accepting my promise. "Then this finally leads us to the heart of my visit", he grouses and looks outside the window again. "The influx of immigrants strengthens the north but also leaves a lot of things dangerously unbalanced, which cannot be allowed. You are one such thing."

I blink at the last sentence, stopping my nodding along in mid motion. "I am sorry...what?"

He has the gall to smirk at me. "House Ryther has grown powerful in recent years and because of that house Glover has been as well. Enough to balance northern politics and become a house equal to the Karstarks or Boltons… which also is why you did not hear from me more often. I had other things to do..."

"I can understand that well enough but fail to see where I am 'unbalanced'?"

He waves off. "Not you directly, of course. Other houses have risen before you and will afterwards. No, with house Ryther alone it would have been tolerable...but now there come the Blackwoods."

I am completely lost and not shy to voice it. "Please elaborate… I admit that I do not understand the problem still."

"The ancestral Blackwood lands have been nominally under the control of house Glover for centuries… even if we never had the people to do anything with it.", he grouses and points roughly to the west right at one of the walls of my solar. "Which incidentally is the reason why lord Stark placed them as my vassals, a position they are right now too powerful to be by far, if one is to be honest. But as they will be busy for decades making their new home I will have time to grow enough for it not to matter. More so as such a move is not without dangers and temptations for those moving and while house Blackwood might have a lot of numbers now they will also lose a significant part of that number before firmly establishing itself."

"No...", he continues, finger moving to point at me accusingly, "the problem is that Blackwood and Ryther taken together – more so now that you are connected strongly to the Umbers – are tilting the scales too much in my favor, inviting a lot of ill will the north cannot afford at this point in time. I dare not to face down the Manderlys or Boltons for the position of most powerful lord after Lord Stark. It would be… ill advised."

"I take it there is a solution that does not cause a northern civil war?"

He scowls. "Oh, yes. I simply do not like it even if I cannot fault lord Stark's reasoning and accept it as necessary."

I simply raise my eyebrow at his reply that answers exactly nothing and the man looks greatly pained as he continues but not before refilling his cup and downing the hot beverage in one motion.

"At the next harvest festival you will be confirmed as a direct vassal to house Stark while the Blackwoods will make their oaths to me at the same time. I will also announce the betrothal of my eldest son to the eldest Blackwood daughter."

Stunned I lean back in my chair, thoughts whirling as I cannot help myself but think out loud. "House Glover will remain powerful and the balance remains as it currently is. House Blackwood will not play a major part in northern politics for a generation at least, leaving you enough time to account for any number disparity and the integration. House Ryther will strengthen the Starks' hold on the north directly while at the same time being 'contained' by two powerful neighbors on the landward side, easing many worries."

"Beautiful...", I mutter and shake my head, still greatly surprised by the development. "Radical...but beautiful."

"Ned has never been one for half measures", Lord Glover agrees.

"Why did you agree to this?", I question, still not really getting it. "To me it looks like house Glover only loses in this agreement."

"It may look that way at first sight, yes.", Galbart agrees easily. "House Glover may lose a vassal but we also gain one… and also a lot of unclaimed land on my eastern border. Land that is much safer from ironborn raids and rich in untapped resources. I avoid conflict with the other greater houses, something I am ill fitted to fight as it currently stands… and the north can tolerate even less. You could say that I am buying time for my house and the north as a whole."

He pauses for a moment, smiling wryly. "I will also not deny that house Blackwood will be easier to handle for me than you have been. They will also be weak enough to actually listen while you will supersede my power soon enough and that would be that. Take that as free advice for the time you have your own vassals. Once they grow too strong, let them go. Everything else leads to disaster."

"Aren't the Blackwoods not easily at my level? And more numerous?"

He shakes his head. "Currently they might be… but they will bleed people like nothing else once they start moving, the lands along their route accepting all that will stay with open arms. I do not expect more than half of the reported number to actually arrive. And once they do they will be too busy with rebuilding to give me problems for decades at the very least."

I find my respect for the man rising half a dozen notches at his explanation, impressed at his political acumen and deep care for the north as a whole. "Do the other lords know?"

He shakes his head, staring into his cup glumly. "There have of course been rumors… but no, not yet. But the rumors alone will stay a lot of hands for now and by the time of the harvest festival it will no longer matter. That it is not yet fully known is also the reason I am telling you myself instead of warning you by raven. Messages can be intercepted, word of mouth merely be overheard."

"I will hold my tongue until the harvest feast", I state at once, still stunned at what had just transpired.

He accepts my promise and soon our conversation drifts to less important matters, the man taking his leave not much later. He stays for another week and leaves deeply impressed with what I have built in my time as lord of Rytherstone. I had shown him the Blackport as well as the mine and even some of my experiments, the evolution of the already used crop rotation being of the greatest interest to the man. I had promised to keep him informed should it develop as I expected it to and suspected that my success would soon become widespread, hopefully adding yet another feather to my cap.

My guests leave just in time to miss me finding the – or at least one – spy in my household by a few days, one of Wyndal's acolytes finding himself bound and beaten at my feet with half a dozen guards standing close by. My advisor had been glaring bloody murder at the youth the whole time since he had been force marched into the room and thrown to the ground before me.

"Tymar", I state and look down at the man, fearful eyes meeting my eyes above a clearly broken nose. "Explain to me – in small words – why you have felt it prudent to betray my trust and that of your master. Be quick about it… my patience is not limitless."

"My lord, I had no choice!", he whimpers

I continue to stare at him, not blinking. "I will be the judge of that."

"My family is still in the Riverlands, held for my good behavior. I was to supply them with your whereabouts once a month for a year after which they would release them north."

"How long has it been since then?", I ask mildly.

"...nearly thirty moons.", he admits pained.

I shatter his defense with my next words. "And do you know that your family is unharmed or even alive?"

"No.", he whispers

I stare at the man, eyes cold. "To summarize. You have turned against those that offered you great opportunity because of an unproven threat and a promise that has since proven to be untrue. Nonetheless you continue to serve an unseen master, betraying your lord anew every day. Who did you send your reports to? Speak up, man!"

"I used ravens for Darry, Stone Hedge or the Twins… never the direction same twice to remain undetected. I marked the letter with a small drawn bird.", he replies, defeat coloring his voice as the size of his mistake became apparent to him. Or the consequences of being caught. I wasn´t quite sure which.

I continue to glare at man for a moment longer, rage seeking to break through. I turn to one of my men at arms holding the traitor down before I can do something that I may or may not regret. "Take him to the dungeons and continue the interrogation. Be thorough."

As the wailing man is dragged from the room I feel the different puzzle pieces slowly fit together in my mind. Ravens likely meant either the houses or the maesters calling the destinations their home would be behind at least part of the attacks, no others would have secure access to the ravens. More so in multiple locations at the same time. Added to the fact that Darry was a Targaryan loyalist, Stonehedge a stronghold of the faith and the Twins always would turn with the wind as long as old Walder lived… this did not paint a pretty picture. Suddenly the requested fostering of house Frey sounded a lot more sinister as well.

"Are the Targaryens behind this? The faith? The citadel? All three?", I whisper to myself, frowning. "What do they stand to gain?"

Shaking myself out of my thoughts I make a mental note to speak to house Manderly at the soonest opportunity. They would know a lot more about the motivations of their trade partners than I could imagine with any real precision. Sadly this likely would have to wait until the harvest festival as well, the matter much too dicey to trust to a raven or even a messenger. I would have to speak to the other Sealord myself.

Shelving the matter for now and making yet another mental note to continue the search for possible spies – as there was no guarantee that there had been only one – I move to my window and gaze over my lands and Blackport in the distance. While I had not abandoned the intention of building a stonewall around the settlement, recent developments had forced me to prioritize a second ring of fortifications around the first one. Enough space was left between the inner and outer wall for the small city to grow in numbers by at least a factor of four before space became an issue again, securing the new arrivals against the looming Ironborn threat as well. Hopefully that would allow me some peace to drive the badly needed sewer system forward as well as some other improvements that would be necessary to avoid the easy spread of disease in the future.

My present fortifications had also been steadily enhanced over the years, scorpions on top of half a dozen wooden towers looking over the harbor and protecting my ships and visiting merchants alike. The small watching post on top of the nearby cliff I had established at the start of my reign had long since grown into a small fort all on its own with a squat stone tower four stories high standing in its center. On top of it a signal fire was steadily burning, showing any nearby ships the way to Blackport even if the weather turned visibility to shit. Right next to the fire a bronze bell had been placed, only to be used in case of ironborn raids. Hopefully it would give me enough warning once… or if… Balon kicked off his rebellion. By now I had changed so much that I struggle to recognize the world I read about in the books and observed in the series. So much had been changed…

A week later Gregor returns with good news. The Blackwood had been found.

I instantly send word to Lords Glover and Stark before giving the command for my people to start moving. Nearly a thousand workers, protected by roughly two hundred warriors, started moving three days later, taking with them wagons full of tools, materials and what food I could spare. Harren and Gregor would be leading the party and set up as many accommodations as possible in the time that remained until the arrival of the Blackwood exodus.

A strong escort of fifty men at arms – I had learned my lesson – accompany me as I follow the beaten track three month later, the time having passed in a flash. Lord Tytos was nearing Deepwood Motte and I wanted to be the one to welcome them to their ancestral home. I left my lands in Wyndal's capable hands, as I had so many times. Alysanne was still trying to beat my better men in arms and would stay at home, for the first time also accompanying Wyndal during his tasks whenever she had the time. While not comfortable with ruling she still needed to know at least the basics, something she had accepted not that long ago and will enough reluctance that I barely managed not to call it sulking.

There was also the matter of my fleet having returned a few weeks ago, thankfully without having encountered any attacks or storms on the way. Hoster had taken my word to heart and squeezed as many people as possible onto the ships, some of them being deep enough in the water that even the slightest wind might have sunken them. Half a dozen large merchantmen that had been hired in Seaguard accompanied them, also packed from top to bottom with human cargo. The Blackport gained nearly 4.000 new and very grateful residents on the day of the fleet's arrival, many who were dispersed into the surrounding lands not long after.

I left this to Wyndal as well, the number of his acolytes having doubled to aid him in keeping up with all the work I was throwing at him. I am very glad to have him and cannot state often enough that it was great to have competent help as it is painful to have competent enemies. He did his best to vet his new help and would continue to keep a closer eye on them than he had in the past, the experience with the spy having deeply unsettled him. The merchants, mine and the hired ones, left again at once with a small escort of four longships. Heading back to Seaguard where they would take on whoever had not found a place the first time around in addition to those that would only have arrived in the meantime.

Having left my home in capable hands I soon arrived at the mystical Blackwood, which in truth was just a big glade of trees spurting dark leaves that glimmered near black if the light hit it just right. In the middle of the glade a small clearing had been found and in its center an empty ring of weather beaten stones five meters accross, where I suspected the Blackwood weirwood had stood millennia ago. Looking around the clearing I shiver, feeling the impression of a truly ancient place weighing upon my soul. That the clearing remained bare and the trees had not moved to claim the open place was truly a marvel and something I blamed what remained of magic for. There was no other way the place would have stayed as it was without some outside forces at work.

Returning to the ruin of the ancestral Blackwood seat not five minutes' ride away I am again proud of what my people can accomplish if they put their mind to it. A wide space nearly two miles across next to a small river had been cleared of trees and the lumber set aside. A few dozen small wooden houses had already been constructed with dozens more being worked on. Latrines had been dug by the hundreds some distance downriver and a small dock added to the river to make moving from and to Blackport easier. The river itself might count as small by Westeros standards but being nearly thirty meters across allowed ships with a flat keel to easily traverse it.

Other buildings like granaries and a great hall were also being constructed but not yet finished, nor would they be until Blackwood arrived in less than a month. The ruined castle had been surveyed as well and a tiny part of it made liveable. The nobles would have to share rooms for the foreseeable future but at least they would not be left at the mercy of the elements.

The biggest problems fought off by my men thankfully turned out to be some wolves and a single bear, the rug being cured right now and set aside as a small gift for the new… old… northern house that would soon arrive. Preparations continue at great speed until my scouts report the caravan to be within hours of arrival. Commanding my people to start packing up I take my guard and ride to meet my new neighbor, encountering him not even ten minutes after leaving.

Tytos is a man ten years my senior, some of his hair already going gray due to all that he had suffered through during his short life. Grim lines sharpen his face more than strictly healthy even though a lot is hidden beneath a thick black beard. Sharp but supremely tired blue eyes bore into mine as I introduce myself before softening.

"Lord Ryther. Well meet.", he replies curtly and nods at me. "I am grateful for all that you have done and more besides. Still, I have a task to accomplish before my people arrive at their new home… could you escort me to the Blackwood?"

"Of course, Lord Blackwood.", I nod and turn my horse around, the Blackwood party joining my own as we head back to the construction site. Passing it I feel the other lord's approving gaze at my back, his voice echoing through the trees as we descend our horses next to the glade.

"You have done House Blackwood a great service, Lord Ryther. We will not forget this."

I just smile at the man that only barely kept his composure and wave him in the direction of the clearing. Tytos carefully takes a small chest out of his saddlebag and follows, both of our escorts remaining behind. Entering the clearing he stops for a moment, taking a deep breath and sucking in the earthy smell permeating the place. Slowly, almost reverently, he moves to the ring in the center and kneels onto the wet ground as tears appear in his eyes. I remain silent, not having left my place at the edge of the clearing out of respect of what had turned into a very private moment.

I watch him remain on his knees with bowed head for a few minutes before he opens the chest and places something in a small hole he first digs with his hands. His next action is hidden from me by his body but I feel the hair on my neck stand up straight as the Blackwood almost seems to sing in the wind all round me, leaves rustling in an unseen breeze. I hear Tytos speak words I cannot understand from my position before bowing again and moving back to my side, his left hand wrapped tightly in a bandage that is strained red. He does not elaborate upon his actions and I do not ask as we return to the settlement to be.

Somehow I am not really surprised that I find a tiny white sapling sprouting a single red leaf sitting in the center of the clearing as I return to it the a few days later.

The ancient weirwood of Raventree Hall had gained a second leave at life, finally having returned home after millennia of exile.