Chapter 92 - Artican Trade in Westeros 19 (Journey to the West 06!).
[Chapter Size: 3000 Words.]
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Thrid Person POV
Westeros, 295 AC.
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Lord Stark did not immediately speak to his wife; he spent the day as usual while asking Luwin not to comment on the matter. It was only after dinner with his children as always in the main hall.
It was only at bedtime that she approached with the letter from the Martells in hand, preparing for the dialogue with Catelyn, which would not be easy. Her resentment towards Jon was well known, reaching a limit when Arya was taken.
He saw his wife preparing for bed without looking much at him, with a sigh, he called her. "Catelyn," he began, his voice breaking the silence of the room. She turned, her gaze looking at him with a neutral glint, and he continued. "We've received news from Dorne... about Arya."
She immediately opened her eyes upon hearing such a thing, not expecting this from her husband at this moment, after all, there had been no news of that fleet of ships since it passed by the White Harbor sea.
"Arya? Is she... is she alright?" Hope shone in her eyes, wishing her daughter was safe and sound.
Ned nodded, moving the letter and handing it to her. "She's more than alright, Cat. The Martells are impressed with her... even a marriage proposal was mentioned." He said, seeing her almost trembling as she touched the letter, lifting it to her eyes to unfold and read.
Catelyn read the letter quickly, her eyes trembling slightly. She couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief that escaped her lips, knowing that her daughter is fine after all. But, as quickly as she had been relieved, a grim face covered her right after.
"That's wonderful... but that bastard! He has no right to decide Arya's future. He needs to bring her back, Ned! Arya belongs to Winterfell, to her true family, not to the sands of Dorne or to the whims of his son!!"
Ned, who was hoping to have something pleasant from his wife with their daughter well, was a bit disappointed, as the woman quickly turned her attention to Jon, whom she seemed to have some kind of obsession with. "I don't know what Jon has to do with this, but Arya is fine, Cat. Try to see at least that, Doran Martell says she participated in negotiations while Jon's wives were kept out." Ned said trying to see the situation from a more positive perspective, although he would certainly prefer Arya here rather than traveling through the south.
"You don't understand, Ned! He shouldn't have the right to negotiate with a great house like the Martells! He should be imprisoned for stealing our daughter! Not using her as a political game to arrange allies! We will not marry Arya into that family so that the bastard can succeed in his plans!!" She exclaimed while Ned was even dazed at how his wife could think this way, wondering if after all these years, he really knew her after all.
"Cat... I don't think Jon has interfered with this, and there's no reason for Jon to want to conquer Winterfell with the support of a house from the other side of the continent, what the Dornish can do with us, even Robert and the North wouldn't accept something like this, why do you insist so much that Jon wants Winterfell, from what you read in the letter, Jon has everything he wants from the place he built beyond the wall." Ned spoke, he had placed Jon in a better position after knowing that Arya was better than ever.
"You don't understand, Ned! He's a bastard, all bastards are greedy, how can he achieve so much with that wildling... It's not fair! He still has our Arya, demand that they bring her back!" She demanded of him while he sighed wearily, wondering why he would still be surprised with the conversation reaching this point.
"I understand your pain, Cat. Arya will always be a Stark, and we will do everything in our power to bring her back home." He spoke trying to calm her, as it was being difficult at this moment to argue against her hatred.
Catelyn looked at him. "I just want my daughter back, Ned. I want my whole family safe and secure under this roof." She spoke with a shaken tone, and Ned hugged her, after all, despite being a difficult woman and having her faults, he still loved her.
"And so it shall be, Cat. I promise you, we will do everything within our power. I will write to the king," he said.
While Winterfell faced its own internal conflicts, news of the Arctican fleet and Jon Snow's actions also reached the western side of the kingdom, in the ears of Tywin Lannister, the lord of Casterly Rock.
He was sitting in his solar, reading the latest scroll from Dorne, while reflecting on the events happening in the south at this time. Tywin was not a man to show surprise easily, but the actions of the Stark bastard and the magnitude of his fleet could not fail to impress him.
His eyes scanned not just this scroll, but he laid out all the others on his table, rereading all the information received in the last weeks so as not to miss anything while his mind worked on it.
A knock on the door called his attention, "Enter." He said, and the door opened with a man slightly younger than Tywin, entering with his Lannister appearance of blond hair and green eyes.
"You called for me, brother." He said with respect to his elder brother and head of their house. Kevan Lannister, Tywin's brother, could not help but glance at his desk. "More news from the south?" he asked, approaching the desk.
"Jon Snow," Tywin began, "Or should I now say, Jon Arctic, as they call him in Dorne." He spoke without taking his eyes off the scroll in his hand, before turning to his brother for the first time. "The Stark bastard who traveled beyond the wall and built a kingdom there, achieving what many lords in Westeros could only dream of: an army of giants, a fleet of two hundred ships, wealth, and unique goods for trade with the first results being a trade alliance in the south with Dorne..." He said, and there was a rare hint of respect in his tone.
Kevan looked thoughtfully for a while, "That boy who went beyond the wall, how is it possible for a child to develop all this in years... Were there reports of magic in the letters still?" Kevan asked, thinking the whole story of the boy could be summed up in mystical events, after all, no one grows up that way or even starts creating a kingdom from the age of 9 namedays, which was absurd.
"Yes, they still say the boy is a sorcerer and put the entire Dorne castle under his feet just by controlling snakes as reported weeks ago." He spoke in a quite peculiar tone.
"What do you think...?" Kevan asked cautiously.
"If that's true, the boy is dangerous, but on the other hand, he's certainly creating alliances with Dorne and is at this moment traveling to this side of the continent." He spoke, even with the supposed sorcery, he couldn't deny that the boy had very good products according to his spies and even sold ice, perhaps an opportunity to catch his secret, after all, ice is a big business for the west.
Kevan pondered his brother's words. "And what do you suggest? How do we deal with him if this fleet comes to Lannisport?" Kevan asked.
"First, we need more information, as there's still a time loop until news arrives here. We'll continue to monitor the movements of this Jon Arctic and his fleet. Secondly, we should prepare to receive them, there are more advantages in this Arctic than disadvantages." Tywin's mind was already weaving plans trying to take advantage of any situation.
"And what about the throne? Can't King Robert and his council see them as a threat?" Kevan asked, wanting to know his brother's opinion on this.
"Difficult... Robert loves the Starks, even with that story of the little girl being kidnapped years ago, she seems very well in the letters and apart from some greedy fools in that council like my own daughter... There's no reason for them to attack or treat the Arctican company as an enemy. Of course, unless they plot something." Tywin spoke, beginning to store the scrolls from the table.
"And if the Iron Throne treats them as enemies until they get here...?" Kevan asked.
"Then we'll deal with them in the best possible way while trying to capture all their secrets." Tywin spoke in a dangerous tone.
"I understand..." Kevan sighed. "Is there anything else I need to do?" He asked, as he would be returning to Lannisport soon, where he managed the city.
"I want you to take Tyrion. Lannisport needs a repair on its sewers in the coming moons, take him and make him useful for once," Tywin spoke with a tone of disgust remembering his dwarf son, the shame of his life.
"Yes, I will take my leave," Kevan spoke, and Tywin nodded his head as he returned to reading other reports on different matters.
In the gardens of Highgarden, sunlight filtered through the tree canopies. In this part of the castle, there was an extension of plants and forests around the paths of the place, which enhanced the beauty of the place with countless colors and aromas. It was in this unique setting that Olenna Tyrell, known among friends and foes as the Queen of Thorns, was sitting in a structure that protected her from the sun in the middle of the garden while receiving news from Westeros beyond the green fields of the Reach.
A man approached, "Lady Tyrell." He said, placing a letter on the table. She looked at it and then said,
"You may go." With that, the man quickly withdrew, but not before hearing one last command. "Call my grandson." She said, and he nodded, moving away.
With the letter there, Olenna frowned as she unfolded the parchment, her sharp eyes quickly scanning the written lines. She spent time reading and rereading, like the last reports she received from Dorne in the last weeks, as Tywin with his spies.
It didn't take long for two well-dressed people to approach. Margaery Tyrell, her granddaughter, accompanied by Willas Tyrell, the heir to Highgarden, approached after their grandmother demanded their presence.
"We are here," Margaery announced as she approached the table, holding her dress and sitting in a chair.
Willas also joined his younger sister in front of their grandmother. "What do the news from the south say, grandmother?" Willas asked, already knowing what the parchment was about just by the seal, and it wasn't the first time their grandmother had called them to discuss what was happening in Dorne.
Olenna lifted her eyes from the letter, showing a cunning expression crossing her face. "Ah, my dear grandchildren, it seems the Stark bastard was doing more than building snowmen beyond the Wall. Jon Snow, of all beings, has not only emerged alive but at the head of a fleet that would make any of our admirals blush with envy, as you already know."
"Are there news of him still being a sorcerer?" Margaery asked, curious about the quite peculiar letters her grandmother received.
"Not much, but his fleet must be dividing at this moment, and a part coming here."
Willas, always the more cautious one, asked. "A fleet, grandmother? Is that concerning?"
"For us? Not yet," Olenna flipped through the letter again, her eyes shining with a face of interest and calculation. "But for the Lannisters and the throne, it very well might be. Snow has made alliances in Dorne, something that not even the most diplomatic of our lords have managed without causing some kind of scandal."
Margaery, curious, asked: "And what does that mean for us, grandmother? If he comes to our ports?"
Olenna smiled, always proud of her granddaughter. "For now, we watch. Snow may be a bastard, but if he's managing to move the Westeros board in his favor, then he's a bastard who deserves our attention. And more importantly, he's a wealthy bastard; we won't let an opportunity like this pass. He bought thousands of animals to take to those frozen lands, so if he's coming here, it means he's not satisfied and intends to spend more money." She said, putting the letter aside and looking at her two grandchildren.
"He also has that ice, drinking cold beverages in our kingdom would be a tremendous success..." Willas commented.
"Exactly, my grandson," Olenna said with a calm tone. "That's why we have to welcome this young man from the north, sorcerer or not, he certainly is beneficial for us. Besides, I would like to lay my eyes on this unique figure and have a little chat with a boy of 15 years who created a kingdom in that place, it will certainly be an interesting conversation." She spoke with a tone of great interest.
"So, should we extend a hand to him, grandmother?" Willas questioned, pondering if his grandmother was indeed favoring this Jon Arctic.
"A hand, perhaps. But we'll keep the other behind our backs, with a rose between the fingers. If Jon Arctic wishes to dance with the snakes, let's see how he handles our gardens, but we won't be as easy as the Martells were, and we will make him know that our thorns can also wound." Olenna folded the letter, decided. "Prepare a raven. I want it to report the arrival of this fleet at any port in our realm when it decides to disembark; we have to prepare our tournament this moon as well, it might be an ideal opportunity to meet our future guests."
With that, Olenna concluded her meeting with her grandchildren, while elsewhere, not too far but hundreds of kilometers away, a private meeting was taking place at this moment.
In the ancient city of Oldtown, a secret meeting was being held away from everyone's eyes. In the heart of the Citadel, where the Archmaesters secretly gather to decide some important points in Westeros, almost nobody knew, but there was the place where the most changes in Westeros happened, after all, they had the ears of all the lords and when they decided something, all their maesters received instructions to suggest certain decisions throughout Westeros, after all, their maesters had loyalty to the citadel above everything, of course, there were a few who did not think this way, and they were ostracized by the order, like Maester Aemon, for example, who was sent to swear to the wall and rot in the far north.
This room was illuminated only by candles that cast dancing shadows on the stone walls, like the bodies gathered at this moment.
Archmaester Vorian (OC), was a man of medium stature, with hair that was once black, now peppered with gray. His eyes, however, remain piercing and full of an inquisitive glow. He is often seen with a brooch representing a closed book, symbolizing his commitment to knowledge and caution against dangers to the order. Vorian was not just a man among his distinguished group, but the one who led all the discussions and commanded all those archmaesters, being the regent of the citadel.
He looked at all the men around him, reflecting wisdom after years of studying the art of the mind. "Brothers, we are gathered here in the face of a threat that arose many years ago, but we would not ask to do anything against it, until this moment, and this threat has gained strength, sailing through the waters of the continent while we are here discussing the threat we received weeks ago." He spoke, pausing before continuing.
"Jon Arctic, known to many as Jon Snow, possesses powers we cannot ignore. His ability to manipulate magic, something we considered relegated to the past, represents a danger not just to the order of the world but to our very existence. Our ancestors fought to rid this continent of dragons, magic, and Targaryens, now it's our time to act against this force."
The other Maesters present exchanged looks, each aware of the Citadel's stance against magic and everything it represented, in favor of this faction. Those who would be against it were not present, as they were not brought into this type of circle.
"And what do you suggest, Archmaester Vorian?" asked Maester Elinor, an equally old man, he had a hatred against magic and was into natural history, so it was in his interest to destroy Jon Arctic.
"Unfortunately, our maester in Sunspear failed to cause any 'illness to his pregnant wives', but he provided information to the pirates of Stepstone to attack the ships heading north at this moment." He said. "I just hope it's successful, after all, if they reach the north, it will be out of our reach."
He then resumed speaking. "We must consider all options. This boy's magic is to control animals like the wargs we have always studied and have the ability to build a kingdom, which seems to be involved with magic."
"Isn't he dangerous? Should we eliminate him!" A maester said.
"Yes, but we must act carefully, Archmaester Galen. After all, we cannot face a fleet with 150 ships and giants." Vorian countered.
"Giants... I'd love to study them..." Archmaester Baelor commented.
"Patience, I will talk to the High Septon and the Hightowers, we can lure them in smaller numbers to the city..." Vorian suggested, putting Jon here inside with few men, they can simply capture him and close the city so that his fleet cannot enter, a good opportunity to destroy him.
"That would be great, but we need to clear the animals from the area, after all, we cannot let him use his powers..." Someone suggested and Vorian nodded.
"Exactly, that's why we'll start our plan." Vorian spoke with a somber tone.
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