Chapter 18 Flint

(Unedited chapter, I'm sorry.)

I spent the rest of the month in the company of the Manderlys. My plan was to ride to Moat Cailin to oversee the construction work. Under my orders, most of the outer structures of the old fort had been demolished. My initial plan was to tear down and clear the area completely, leaving only the towers standing, but some entries in Brandon's journal dissuaded me from doing so.

After nearly three years since I began the renovations of Moat Cailin, the fortress is ready to be an acceptable settlement. Two of the three towers have been restored to their former glory. There is now a five-meter wall surrounding the road, which will force anyone wishing to pass further north to enter the fortress and march under the shadow of the towers. I also have plans for a new fortress on an opposite hill, a few kilometers from the old fort. For now, the builders will focus on leveling and drying the land around the road for the creation of the city. If everything goes according to my designs, the canal will cut the road between the two fortresses, creating something akin to twin cities on either side of the canal.

It will be hard work and will force me to camp in the marshes for at least a few months, as I don't want to delay construction to renovate any tower. Instead, the towers will serve as storage for cement and food. However, my plans were derailed.

Surprisingly, most of the heirs of the bannermen who accompanied us decided not to return home. Some chose to stay with Brandon for a few moons. Jon Umber, Harrison Karstark, and Wilian Dustin will stay with me until it's time to head to the Vale of Arryn. Others, like Theo Wull, have expressed the desire to follow me as an escort even after leaving the North. And while I am fine living with builders and guards in tents, I don't think it's right to subject so many heirs to these hardships.

So now I'm here, about to board a ship bound for the lands of the Flint of Widow's Watch, by personal invitation of Lord Bryam, which I gladly accepted. Part of my purpose is to prepare projects, as well as to pass time while construction progresses. I want to spend at least another month traveling while the first stages of the second fortress are completed.

Saying goodbye to Brandon was harder than I expected. We would see each other as much as possible, but although my new fortress and the Manderly stronghold are neighboring territories, the journey between them is not frequently traveled, and since part of it is swamp, the roads are a mess, making the journey take nearly a moon.

Brandon really wanted to accompany me, but not knowing how long I would be gone, I need him to stay in case the Iron Bank sends a message. He will be in charge of initiating talks regarding the canal project. Lord Manderly and I planned it this way, considering the political implications of the project. And although the loan and the project will be in my name, the fact that my brother, the heir to the North, supports the project might give us more credibility with the Iron Bank.

*****

The journey from White Harbor to Widow's Watch took only a week. The two-sailed ship, called Triton, was Lord Manderly's flagship. I traveled only with Duncan and Mance, as the others were still waiting for letters from their houses, as well as some shipments of supplies that should arrive in half a moon.

In the distance, we could see the Flint watchtower, more like a lighthouse atop a cliff. Widow's Watch is the seat of House Flint of Widow's Watch. It is located at the end of a peninsula between the Shivering Sea and the Bite.

As soon as we disembarked, we were greeted by Lord Bryam Flint, who welcomed us with all the expected rites of bread and salt. During the meeting, I learned a few things: it seems that Lord Flint and Lord Manderly are the only lords left from the generation before my father, and both have served as his advisors and friends even before the War of the Ninepenny Kings.

After a private dinner with the host's family, which unfortunately consisted only of his six-year-old daughter and Lord Flint himself, he raised his cup as he spoke:

"Lord Eddard, I've heard rumors that you are an enthusiast of exploration and ancient history."

"You've heard right, my lord," I replied. "Finding relics and hearing stories of the ancestors has always been my greatest pleasure."

"My lord, if you have time, I would like to speak with you in private after dinner. I have something that might interest you."

After dinner, I headed to Lord Flint's solar. Unlike many fortresses I had visited, his office was at the highest point of the watchtower, with large windows overlooking the Shivering Sea. There, standing, was Lord Flint gazing at the horizon.

"—Lord Eddard, thank you for coming."

"—Please, just Eddard; it's too soon for me to be a lord," I said.

"—Haha, I apologize, my lord, but for the Flints of Widow's Watch, anyone with the name Stark will be treated as a lord regardless of rank or age."

"—That's fine, my lord. You didn't call me here to discuss titles, but to give me correspondence my father sent before my arrival," said Lord Flint as he handed me two large scrolls.

"—I appreciate that you went to the trouble, Lord Flint," I replied as I tucked the scrolls into my coat and gazed out at the horizon.

We remained silent for a few minutes, simply listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs.

"—From your reaction and secrecy, I assume my father has already informed you of some more private plans that are in motion," I said.

"—Just as you mentioned, my lord. Lord Rickard Stark sent a rider summarizing his plan under the pretext of the permits you requested."

"—Very well, tell me, Lord Flint, does your land have the necessary place for the enterprise?" I asked.

"—What do you know of our house, Lord Stark?" Flint replied.

"Your banner bears a blue field scattered with white caps, beneath a golden chief crested with a pair of blue eyes, and your motto is 'Ever Vigilant,'" I answered, still puzzled by the change of subject.

"—Let me tell you an ancient story, my lord, a story of the founding of our house. More than 6,000 years ago, our first ancestor was nothing more than a second son of House Flint of the Hills, as you well know, one of the mountain clans of the North, the First Flints, as they are commonly known.

It was Theon Stark who granted us the title of lord in these lands. Some say it was for honors in battle; others, that it was for saving his life. But the truth was luck, perhaps destiny. It was luck that my ancestor was a watchman at Wolf's Den guarding the coast. And it was luck, or perhaps destiny, that he was the only one with good enough sight to spot the ships with sails marked with seven-pointed stars. Then he ran, rode to Winterfell to warn them. He rode 42 kilometers until his horse died, swam 42 kilometers to avoid Bolton patrols, and ran another 42 kilometers, exhausted and with bleeding feet, but he was able to warn of the invasion."

"—That's impressive, my lord, but why did he go straight to Winterfell?" I asked.

"—In those days, my lord, neither Ramsgate nor White Harbor existed. The Lockes had just bent the knee; the war with the Towers had just ended, and their house was extinct, with only a daughter married to the Starks, as is customary. So no, my lord, there was no other place to go but Winterfell."

"—The rest of the story I don't know very well, just whispers invented by maesters. But what I do know is that we won, we drove out the invaders, and for the service rendered, my ancestor was given lands and title. 'Ever Vigilant,' two eyes always on the sea, is our charge."

We spent a few minutes in silence, as if waiting for the weight of the history to settle in.

"—As for your request, I have a gift that I believe will be of use to your plans," said the lord.

"—A gift?" I asked, as I looked at Lord Flint, who had not taken his eyes off the sea during the entire conversation.

"—This, my lord, is a gift that belongs to your family, a legacy that has been with us for more than six thousand years. Tomorrow, we will ride with a small escort; it will suffice, the North is quiet these days."

"—Of course, Lord Flint. Tomorrow at first light," I replied as I left the solar, with the wind and waves still rumbling in the room.

****

The next day, under the pretense of a private ride, only Lord Flint, Duncan, and I traveled through the lands of the Flints. We rode for several hours, navigating cliffs and coastal bluffs, until we reached some gray stone cliffs that ended in a ravine. But if you paid close enough attention, you could make out a stone staircase carved into the walls descending down.

After a few minutes of descending — faster than I had expected, thanks to the unique agility of my two companions — we arrived at a hidden cove bordered by the same cliff. Along the journey, I had seen at least five similar coves on the coast, but this one was different; it was deep. In its waters, a waterfall cascaded from above, hiding it from view from the coast, thanks to the mist.

"—Welcome, Lord Stark, to one of the many legacies of your ancestors," Lord Flint spoke as he pointed toward the waterfall.

"—Impressive, my lord. Just what I need for the operation: far enough from any castle to feign ignorance, and deep enough for large ships to unload."

"—That's not the whole surprise, my lord," he said as he walked around the waterfall. "This is the true gift, Lord Stark."

Behind the waterfall were six galleys in perfect condition.

"—This…," I said, astonished, as shades of blue and green swirled before my eyes, highlighting the ships in the darkness.

"—The legacy of Thorrent Stark, specifically entrusted to our house. Just as he gathered and hid places filled with treasures and weapons to fight against dragons as a contingency plan, he also prepared ships full of objects and gold in case all plans failed."

"—I know he had more contingency plans, dozens of them. I may not be aware of all, but I know we were entrusted with guarding these ships for a possible escape of the Starks. For centuries we have kept the secret, but something tells me that it is not a time for fleeing, my lord; it is a time to prepare for war."

"—Why me, Lord Flint? Why now?"

"—I introduce myself, Lord Wolf Bryam Flint, member of the Order," he replied as he knelt. "Lady Arwen contacted me. I apologize for not being able to attend the meeting, but a lord of higher rank cannot come and go so easily."

"—You…," I asked, expectant.

"Better said, my whole house, my lord. The truth is that my ancestor did not see the ships with his own eyes but through his bond. That gave him an advantage, allowing him to ride to Winterfell and elude the Bolton patrols," he said as a Cory's shearwater skimmed past the waterfall and landed on his shoulder. "Now I renew the pact, the old pacts in concord with the new. An old pact commanded me to watch the coast; a new one, to prepare for flight. But neither excludes the other."

"—Flee, watch, prepare for war... the choice is yours now," he said as he knelt before me.

"—Get up, Lord Flint. I understand and respect your house's dedication to the Starks," I replied, placing my hand on his shoulder to help him rise. "What do you say we go see what my ancestor prepared?"

"—Of course, Lord Stark."

It seems Thorrent Stark was not stingy with his preparations. The ships contained over three hundred thousand in gold, as well as silks, jewelry, vintage wines, and furs from the North. There were no fresh foods, but surprisingly enough dried provisions for a comfortable journey to Braavos.

According to Lord Bryam, it is each Lord Flint's duty to periodically change the provisions to prevent spoilage. Every three years, for the sake of the journey, the lord ascends and descends the steep path to replace the food. Similarly, captured pirate ships are secretly swapped out for older ones, always maintaining six ships.

I spent a few hours gathering the items my eye marked in green. However, the most impressive thing I found was at the bottom of a barrel full of seawater. There lay a one-handed axe, single-edged, shining with a golden hue similar to the Valyrian steel of my father's sword, Ice. But unlike the smoky steel with typical Valyrian patterns, the axe had a greenish tint, like old bronze. The handle, made of wood, was intact and showed no signs of decay.

"—Lord Flint, if I may ask, what do you know about this axe?"

"—Unfortunately, nothing, my lord. I only know it has been at the bottom of that barrel since the first cargo was hidden here."

"—Peculiar," I murmured as I wielded the axe, hoping for a vision, but without luck. "—Well, Lord Flint, it seems I have a new weapon."

"—Beautiful, indeed, though very light for it to be of much use, Lord Stark."

"—Hmm, something tells me it may be more interesting than we think."

We climbed the steep stairs ready to begin the return journey. At my hip, secured, was my new weapon, displaying its greenish color.

We returned to Widow's Watch just before sunset. However, before I could even dismount, the steward informed Lord Flint that he had guests in the great hall seeking an audience, and some rather peculiar ones.

Upon entering the hall, we encountered three guests: hairy, short men with shrill voices. They wore thick, furry skins, accompanied by axes and brown leather shields hanging from their backs.

"—Welcome, strangers. I apologize for the wait, but I was out patrolling my coasts," began Lord Flint.

"—Magnar Bryam, my name is Skat, part of the honorable Council of the 1000 of Ibben. We were attacked by pirates en route to Braavos. We managed to escape, but our ship sank, and we barely reached your port," the Ibbenese replied brusquely in ancient tongue, though it sounded rough in his mouth, almost like a growl. said the man in ancient tongue

"—Sad news, I fear. You are welcome in my halls to recover. If necessary, I can provide transportation; not to your lands, but I believe you will find a better port in Braavos," Bryam Flint responded.

"—On behalf of my companions, I thank you for your hospitality. As for transportation, it will not be necessary. We have managed to contact an acquaintance who will take us directly to Ibben, but we would like to trade the few goods we still have for gold to pay for our passage."

"—Gold, you say?" Lord Flint replied, somewhat reluctant. "I'm afraid I don't have much of that at the moment."

At that moment, I interrupted Lord Flint: "—Lord Skat, I hope I'm not intruding with my question, but could you tell me what goods you have and how much gold you seek for them?"

For a moment, the Ibbenese looked at me closely. I felt his gaze linger on the axe hanging from my waist, though soon his eyes returned to my face.

"—Magnar Stark, I apologize for my manners. I did not know that the Stark Wolf was among us. In answer to your question, unfortunately, the goods we have are not as relevant or valuable as you might believe. Due to our misfortune, we are left with only a few barrels of whale oil and furs that, while valuable in Essos, I don't think will be of much use here in the North. As for the amount, we really need a thousand honors in gold. In your coin, that would be about two hundred golden dragons. However, if necessary, we have some weapons that belonged to our fallen men, though they are very few."

"—That won't be necessary," I replied. "I wouldn't strip a fallen man of his weapons in a land that is not his. But the other goods, especially the whale oil, sound interesting. I will give you four hundred dragons, enough for you to buy something to take back to your land, so your journey is not in vain. As long as you give me your word that the next time the sea brings you here, you will pay the difference with goods."

"—You have my word, Lord Stark, and my friendship for the help."

"—Excellent. Join us for dinner. I am sure Lord Eddard would enjoy your stories," said Lord Flint, concluding the brief exchange while looking at me.

Dining with the Ibbenese is not as pleasant as one might think. They are people of few manners, chewing with their mouths open, grunting, and fighting for every piece of meat on the table. But like the Northerners, they are a lively group.

"—Magnar Stark, I see the axe you carry is quite ancient," the Ibbenese commented after dinner.

"—And you are correct, my lord. It is a weapon I recently acquired, a lost family relic, it seems."

"—Oh, undoubtedly a relic. However, I am sure its origin is not from these lands. You see, Magnar Stark, that steel, although unknown to most, has a well-documented history in my homeland."

"—Oh? Ibbenese steel?" I asked as I handed him the axe.

"—No, it is not Ibbenese steel. This axe is made of green iron, as magical and special as Valyrian steel. But unlike the lightweight metal filled with fire that is used for swords, this green iron is better for armor and axes. If you have wielded it, you may realize that it feels light in the hand, but upon impact, it seems to weigh like a large axe."

"—Impressive, Lord Skat. But tell me, if it is not Ibbenese, where does it come from?"

"—Hahaha, Lord Stark, it was made by one of the best seafaring peoples that my race has on record. Unfortunately, it is taboo to mention and write their name, which has left it in obscurity. We call them 'the Submerged.'"

"—The Submerged?" I asked, intrigued.

"—An ancient and magical people. Legends say they were such skilled navigators that they had charted the entire known world. They traveled so much by ship that it is said some children did not set foot on land until they had their own children. They sailed so widely that you could find them in every port. But just as one day they were everywhere, the next they vanished. Only whispers and stories from those who once traded with them remain as proof of their existence. That, and these axes, Lord Wolf."

"—Wow, an impressive story, Skat," Lord Flint said.

"—More than a story. In Ibben, it's a lesson. There are songs that parents tell their children to instill fear and respect for the sea."

"—Forgive me for asking, but if it's so popular in Ibben, why have I never heard of it? I know it's not common for our peoples to trade, but something should have come through," I asked, intrigued.

"—Hahaha, that, Lord Stark, is because we never speak of them outside our land. Never on solid ground, and surely never where the depths can hear us."

"—I'm sorry, Lord Skat, but I must ask: why here? Why take the risk?"

"—Hahaha, it seems you still haven't realized, Lord Stark," the Ibbenese said while gesturing for me to look around.

The rest of the hall was in perpetual silence. Everyone was watching us with curiosity and a bit of strangeness, waiting for the Ibbenese's response.

"—Hahaha, if you haven't figured it out yet, Lord Stark, there is no better place to invoke old legends than here in the North, where the Wolf and the Snow guard the bread and salt that your house offers. Here I have enough courage, for no one with 'guest right' under the protection of the Starks has ever had anything to fear from men or curses."

This last phrase caused the entire audience listening to us to cheer and shout in enthusiastic confirmation.

___________________________

Journal of Brandon the Destroyer

While I was seeking answers, my journey was abruptly interrupted by troubling news from the north. Whispers of an evil at the Wall. Betrayal in the Night's Watch, and not just against their vows, but something far worse: betrayal of all men. The thirteenth Lord Commander has proclaimed himself King of the Wall, using dark sorcery and paying tribute to the old pale enemy.

Now I set out in search of allies. The Forest Clans, who still dwell beyond the Wall. I can only hope they still exist, that they still remember their oath. If the stories are true, I will need all the support I can get.

Gathering an army was easier than I imagined. An old friend, Joramun, from the forest tribes, had spent years uniting the tribes to confront the now self-proclaimed King of the Night. The fight was fierce. Although the enemy, still weak, was by no means the threat it once was, it remained formidable.

We defeated the Pale Witch to carve our way to the castle's last chamber. Upon entering, we found not a king, but the shadow of what once was a man. To my dismay, he was a Stark descendant. Before dying, he regained his senses for a brief moment. Someone had whispered to him, spoken to him in dreams, telling him that what he was doing was right. That this was the only way to end the Others, who were awakening again. Promises, whispers...

We won again, but not without losses. Joramun and I are cursed, cursed by the blue-eyed witch. Joramun will return north today and will not cross the Wall again, for his curse prevents him from doing so. But I have left a legacy to his descendants: a horn, a symbol of friendship and a promise. When the Horn of Winter sounds, the magic of the Wall will fall just enough for his people to cross.

As for me, I feel how my life is fading. Perhaps the long life granted by my race is coming to an end. Even in these final moments, I continue to gain titles: "The Breaker" they call me now. Perhaps I should have died, or maybe the curse would have turned me into a corpse. My magic saved me, but my lineage will not live as long as before. I feel how part of our magic has been lost, but I know that Devourer is stronger. Perhaps it just needs time...

______________________________

Hello everyone, I'm back... long story, life has its challenges when it rains. A chapter to warm up for Monday. I'll update the other Smallville fic, and next Friday there will be another chapter of this fic.

We'll talk about my struggles another time.

I have two questions: first, would you prefer a long weekly chapter of 4000 words or shorter chapters of 1200-1500 words? I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Second, I'm thinking about creating a Patreon, but I'm not sure yet. I don't have enough chapters saved up, and I don't want to make 10 chapters of 800 words just to have volume. But let me know what you think—would anyone be willing to support me even if it's just for one chapter ahead?

Thanks to those who haven't abandoned the fic. As long as there's at least one person reading, I won't stop writing.

Lastly, I also created a Ko-fi in case anyone wants to buy me a coffee—5 coffees, one extra chapter! XD

https://ko-fi.com/d_vera