Provenance

(12/18/2023)

Eager to out pace the thousands that followed our camp, I led the Rhaenari on foot with a swift stride.

Swift was our pace over those few days. The Pendric Hills showered us with the sun's icy gleam as it ascended and descended upon their snow-capped peaks.

Eastward we ventured until we reached the Golden Pass, home of House Lefford. A modest stronghold in size, yet commanding in its position, as it ruled over the mountain pass gateway between the east and west. 

It is widely believed among armchair strategists that holding the Golden Pass equates to holding the key to invasion concerning the Riverlands and the Westerlands. 

The Pass served as the primary thoroughfare between those realms. To control it meant to control the movement of forces. For ages, the Westerlands and House Lannister had maintained their grip, using it as their frontline against the eastern territories.

With urgency, we embarked on a rapid march through the Golden Tooth, as the land gradually declined and transformed from mountains to hills, and finally to sprawling grassland. To the north, the Tumblestone River meandered in the distance, and to the east...

"The Red Fork!" I exclaimed, "Look, boys. We've finally crossed into the Riverlands!"

The change in scenery was subtle. The air felt different, moist, and devoid of lingering warmth. The southern trees — the maples, elms, beech, and poplars — were gone with the occasional willows.

And there it stood, at the confluence of the Tumblestone and the Red Fork: Riverrun. To the west, a third side faced a massive man-made ditch. Riverrun boasted commanding views spanning leagues around.

The castle's formidable red sandstone walls ascended steeply from the water, their crenelated battlements and arrow loops providing a formidable defense. 

Towering structures overlooked the opposing shores, and in times of danger, the sluice gates could be opened, filling a wide moat and transforming the castle into an island.

It was that last detail which greatly fascinated me. To turn your keep into an island at a whim… How troublesome it would be to lay siege to such a place! 

Lord Grover Tully and his grandson Elmo welcomed us to Riverrun, sparing us from setting up camp. We were content to enjoy the hospitality of the castle walls. 

Since we had traveled far north, I wanted to do some sightseeing. However, bringing all the Rhaenari would have been impractical, given the pursuit of civilian camp followers.

Therefore, I selected the hardworking men from our tour and had them mount horses. Those who couldn't ride stayed behind. I wanted speed for this off-road trip and didn't want wagons slowing us down on uneven roads.

Elmo Tully, Lord Grover's young grandson, had become somewhat obsessed with me during my time in Riverrun. He adopted himself as my little brother of sorts and pleaded with his grandsire to let him join us. Lord Grover agreed, on the condition that his best men come as escort.

Interestingly, the names Grover and Elmo were clues about my location and time. They were characters from a story of my past life. Encountering both names in the same family seemed more than a coincidence. It suggested that I was in a world where the tectonic plates had shifted, altering the familiar map I once knew. 

I theorized that the cultural impact of Sesame Street had led to the preservation of those names. However, deep down, I felt there was more to unravel about my purpose and location, and I yearned to solve that mystery.

It was merely a fleeting, whimsical thought. Like a leaf carried by the wind. In this vast world, countless questions remained unanswered. Understanding why I was here would be as futile as venturing to explore distant stars when we had not even completed the map.

Our party of 50, accompanied by a small group of Tully men, set out for the countryside of the Riverlands. But not before Team Theodore caught up with us. 

"Theodore!" I called, "Took you long enough. I was getting worried."

"Apologies for the delay."

"Fun family reunion?" I asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"As fun as to be expected," Theodore sighed. "Successful on your end?"

"That I was."

As I signaled Eldric to join us and become acquainted with the inner circle, it felt like all life was drained from our surroundings.

"Brien Flowers," Eldric introduced himself. He towered over most with his pale, shining bald head. "And Theodore Reyne. Still yet to forge your chains, I see."

"Archmaester..." Brien spoke bitterly, while Theodore remained silent.

"How cold. What have you told them, Prince Rhaenar?" 

"Nothing we haven't discussed," I replied. "Forgive their caution. There is much we don't know about you."

"And much we care not to," Theodore said. "Not that it's relevant. I'm more worried about how the Citadel will react."

"By the time they catch wind, it will be smoke and mirrors," I assured him. "What they choose to believe is anyone's guess."

Asher massaged his worried brow, "It's like everything we do is met with a thousand ACTIONS."

Zane boomed a laugh, "You can say that again! I sure don't envy you, my prince. You have to think of everything!"

Pheonix brooded in silence. 

Sari laid a hand on the hilt of his blade, "What's there to think about? Just give the order, and I'll kill them all."

Zane gawked at Sari with awe, "That's our boss!"

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Must you always be an idiot whenever you get to ride with the Prince?"

Eldric covered his mouth, a snakeish laugh escaping his teeth, "Tssstssstsss… You weren't kidding, Prince Rhaenar. This bunch sure is lively."

I sighed, "And that's without even a drop of wine."

Sari raised a finger, "False. I've already downed a flagon."

Zane held up a peace sign, "Make that two!"

"…In any case," I said, reassuring Theodore, "The archmaester will be smuggled to Dragonstone in due time. Now then, no more of this chatter. We have a countryside to marvel!"

Under the veil of twilight, we departed to evade any potential pursuers. Although, it was unlikely that it would have made a difference. 

Riverrun boasted bridges that spanned the river in all directions. Even if they wished to follow us, they would have to find a way to cross the river by boat or locate a point shallow enough to ford.

We slipped away undetected, filled with joy, and swiftly ascended the hill to bask in the warm embrace of the rising sun upon our faces.

Stretched before us was a golden grassy landscape. Black lumps in the distance could be spied with wisps of smoke over them, indicating many little villages and havens that darted that moist, rich land. 

I cupped my eyes to block the sun. Down the hill and in the distance was a small forest.

"Something's peculiar about the woodland ahead," I commented. "It appears distinct from the surrounding region."

The contrast between the Riverlands and the southern regions was striking. While forests like the one surrounding Hornhill had been spared destruction, the Riverlands told a different story. The Andals and First Men had clearly taken to clearing the forests in this region, leaving their mark on the landscape.

This is what made that particular patch of woods in the distance so intriguing. The trees stood tall and grew closely together, forming a rare and relatively untouched woodland as far as the Riverlands were concerned. It looked ancient.

Even from our vantage point, we could perceive its distinctiveness, standing out amidst the sparse woods we had encountered along the river road.

"What say you, little Lord? Tell us about that forest."

Young Lord Elmo rode beside me on his destrier. "Father sometimes takes us hunting, but I don't like going in there."

"Why's that?" 

"Too scary. The trees whisper. When I told Father I heard them, we left in a hurry. Mother made him promise not to go back."

I stroked my chin, "What do you think, Brien?"

"It's possible," said Brien, "There's a reason why they went about cutting all the trees. Felt like they were being watched."

"Maybe it's more butterflies."

"I'm not sure," said Brien, "Those 'spirits' we saw at the Red Keep — if that's what we'll call them — had a warm beauty. Lord Elmo speaks of something sinister."

That's when Eldric said, " I always did admire your airyness, Brien. I never thought you naive for your childlike love for the mysteries. But this time, it has rendered you blind."

 Theodore held back a chuckle, which only heightened Brien's defensiveness. 

"Ch… How so?"

"I don't blame you," said Eldric, "It is not well known. That wood has been home to countless over the centuries. Oft in times of trouble."

"Trouble?" asked Theodore.

"I take it that Archmaester Hobard neglected to let you wander the forbidden sections of the Citadel?"

"Not once unsupervised."

Eldric scoffed, "Even the most diligent of historians are only as good as their books."

That piqued my interest, "Are you suggesting that the Citadel withholds information from its members?"

"The Citadel is built on a foundation of lies, dear Prince," said Eldric, "Who knows what to believe? But I can tell you what I know about that forest."

Eldric cleared his throat and continued, "Not much is known about the children, a race who roamed these lands in the dawn age. Yet our writings on them remained a precious, closely guarded commodity. 

"When the first men arrived on the untouched shores of Westeros, the children of the forest were said to welcome them with open arms. 

"Men, we strange creatures who built settlements and used metal. Very much unlike the children. That race of small people who sang with the earth and laughed with the leaves. 

"Conflict inevitably broke out between the two. Men had many use for trees, and the children took exception to clearing the forests. We fought for thousands of years until finally, the two sued for peace, signing the 'Pact' on the Isle of Faces.

"So it was that men had sovereignty over the plains and the children over the forests. And the children faded into obscurity. 

"The common folk would think you a raving lunatic should you walk into your village, spouting about how you saw a tiny magical child singing in the forest.

"Alas, that's where we are today, and the world is worse for it. But how exactly this relates to that patch of trees there yonder is a charming tale indeed."

Sari yawned, "I was wondering when you'd get to the point."

Eldric ignored the jape. It seemed he already had Sari figured out. "There was a time when the children's prospect for victory looked bleak. Their population vastly depleted, and men hunted them fiercely.

"It's theorized that at some point, the children had to split their forces into more minor factions to flee their pursuers. Less and less they became. Forced to hide in caves and tunnels. 

"But there was one faction that didn't want to hide underground. They were children of the forest, keepers of the land. How could they deny the sun on their faces, the flow of the rivers, the sweet open air? Nay. So, this faction did the unthinkable; they created a city."

I raised a ponderous brow. "How did that solve their issue of being hunted?" 

"Because how they built it was quite ingenious," said Eldric, "High in the trees and hidden amongst the branches, it's said to span for hundreds of huts, with rope bridges, gardens, and all. "

Gorgeous George had been silent this whole time. Not exactly the brightest of fellows, he'd spent most of the time in great focus to not fall off his horse. "I helped my father cut trees every day back in Brownhollow. I don't understand how this city wasn't found."

"How so?" I asked.

"Because no matter what," said George, "Winter comes. It's like what those Starks always say. And when winter comes, the leaves fall. All you'd have to do was look up and see everything."

"Good point," I said, turning to Eldric, "How did the children work around this?"

"We don't have exact details," said Eldric.

"How do we even have any detail?" blurted Theodore.

"It's assumed that even after the Pact, the children went into hiding," said Eldric, "With nought interest in the affairs of Men. We eventually forgot about them, their existence shroud in legend. Long enough for men to find a new enemy: themselves."

"Hardly need history books to figure that one," said Sari.

Zane tilted his head, "I didn't know you could read, boss."

"I'm the greatest writer in the land. Blood is my ink."

By now, Little Elmo was eager to hear the rest, "Then what happened?"

Eldric smiled thinly, and for a moment, he looked almost human. Almost. 

"I'm glad you asked. I'm sure you are familiar with House Mudd?"

"Ancient kings of the dawn age," I answered, "It's said they ruled the Riverlands for a thousand years."

Eldric nodded, "Indeed. House Mudd ruled from their seat of Oldstones, a castle so old that its original name is lost to history. Tristifer IV Mudd was a great king who won 99 of 100 battles. Only when seven Andal kings banded together did King Tristifer taste defeat.

"The king died in the fighting, and his son Tristifer V took the mantle. But he was nothing compared to his father. The Andals chased House Mudd to the ends of the Riverlands, pushing them south as High Heart until their eventual eradication. Tristifer V was the last of House Mudd, or so we thought.

"…There in lies the story of that forest. It is said that Tristifer V was infact not the last of his line. That he had a son, Tristifer VI. He led the remnant of House Mudd's forces, a boy of ten if it's believed. They ran and ran until, on the brink of death, they found themselves in that forest.

"As the Andal army came upon them, Tristifer Mudd said his prayers. Hunger and thirst and exhaustion. Bloodied and bruised. They sat against the trees and awaited their cruel fate. But just as the Andal forces were almost about them, a rope ladder dropped from above.

"'Up here!'", a queer tongue cried, "'Hurry!'"

"So it was that the children who dwelt in their treetop city took pity on Tristifer VI, the last of House Mudd. The boy took a liking to his hosts, learning their songs and way of the land, and when the children eventually moved on, the Mudd's and their descendants carried their will."

A breeze passed by, and Eldric took a moment to close his eyes and smell the air.

"Now you understand." He said, "For countless centuries, that wood has been a sanctuary. One can assume the Treetop City still exists to this day. Waiting for the time they can descend the trees and return their king to Oldstones."

Slightly deflated, Brien said, "So it's people who Lord Elmo heard whispering."

I waved a dismissive hand, "Boring. I much prefer spirits. Still, it's a comforting story. Kindness in war.. The mystery of an ancient house continues on.. Mayhap we will live to see the return of House Mudd?"

Little Elmo mistook my meaning, "But my family will still rule from Riverrun, right Prince Rhaenar?"

I reached over and scuffled his hair, "Of course. Far be it from me to go against the wishes of King Aegon. House Tully and Targaryen will remain friends forever more."

As a symbolic tribute to the children who offered such kind gesture to men, we left a bounty of fruits at the edge of that ancient forest. 

We did not wait to see the fate of our offering, but as we trotted along the road that hugged the wood's edge, Brien and I could both swear we heard a happy song in the wind.