"—To His Grace King Kal I of House Baratheon, I am Wyman Manderly, Lord of White Harbor, bannerman to House Stark, your loyal subject. I write to inform Your Grace regarding the Dreadfort…"
A week had passed since the Siege of Winterfell. During this week, Kal had remained here, waiting for those who were meant to come, while stealing half a day's respite amid the constant comings and goings of these busy days.
Yet early this morning, Maester Luwin delivered to him a letter from Wyman Manderly, Lord of White Harbor.
Kal skimmed through the contents and paused only briefly at the key matter mentioned toward the end.
"Maester Luwin, is there still no news of Tywin Lannister?"
During the interval spent waiting at Winterfell, Kal had not only awaited the lords gathering from across the North, but had also sent men to search for Tywin.
A man of such stature could not simply vanish into thin air.
Yet that was precisely what had happened.
"Your Grace, according to the information obtained through prior interrogations, Lord Galbart Glover of Deepwood Motte has already dispatched men to search for Kevan Lannister's body, but there is indeed still no word of Tywin Lannister."
Maester Luwin spoke in a low voice.
Although Kal's order had been to show no quarter and slay outright all the ironborn attacking Winterfell, as well as all Lannister forces from the rebellious Night's Watch that had come against the castle, severe interrogation for information had naturally not been neglected.
Thus it was that Kal and the others came to know what had truly occurred that day.
Tywin missing, Kevan dead—this was something no one had expected.
The question was: Tywin was in the North, and after several days of relentless blizzards, how had so large a man vanished from its lands?
Surely he had not simply frozen to death in some forsaken place, or been dragged off and devoured by some beast?
After all, once it was learned that all the ships of the ironborn invaders had anchored along the Stony Shore not far south of Sea Dragon Point, the cavalry sent to take possession of that fleet had still found no trace whatsoever of Tywin.
After speaking thus, Maester Luwin saw the King fall into thought and, believing he was angered, quietly added: "Your Grace, of late, men have been dying everywhere across the North. Perhaps Tywin Lannister perished somewhere, or perhaps he was assassinated by some inconspicuous nobody."
"Given what he has done, it is not so unlikely that someone bore him a grudge."
Maester Luwin voiced his conjecture. He truly thought so, and believed that matters were most likely as he had said.
Otherwise, what else could it be?
However, how could Kal not know what Maester Luwin had said? Yet for Tywin to vanish so utterly without a sound still left him somewhat ill at ease.
Setting down the letter from Wyman, Kal tapped his fingers lightly against the desk, his mood somewhat vexed.
He then rose outright and walked to the bedside, reaching out to push open the window.
The place he now occupied was the Great Keep of Winterfell. Looking out, one could see the yard of Winterfell.
Unlike when he had first come, when people had been everywhere, the place had now been claimed outright by Robert as his own nest; wings folded and head tucked, he slept sweetly all day long.
The golden-furred great dog JJ circled around him. Seeing that he paid it no heed, it gave a leap, turned about, and ran toward the kennels beneath the library tower opposite.
No one managed it—Winterfell was its realm.
At this sight, Kal's mood improved somewhat.
"The meaning of Lord Wyman's letter is very clear. I intend to depart tomorrow for the Dreadfort and wipe away the last stain of the North. After that, it will be time to face the matter of the Long Night."
Looking out the window, Kal suddenly spoke.
Maester Luwin was slightly taken aback.
He had long foreseen the Dreadfort's end. What he did not understand was why the King placed such weight upon the affairs of the Wall.
From the moment he learned of Tywin's rebellion and the matter of the Night's Watch, the King had immediately mobilized the armies of the Vale to suppress it.
Yet at that time, he had still been contending with his two uncles for the throne, and even then he had not spoken of summoning the Vale forces that supported him.
He had not even made great use of the strength of House Stark in the North.
However, regarding the Wall and the North, upon hearing the news he had chosen to commit himself fully at the very first moment, even to the extent of dispatching the very armies that might have supported his claim to kingship.
It could be said that in doing so, from beginning to end, Kal had displayed just how greatly he valued the North.
Yet as a maester of the Citadel, although he had also studied magic and even earned a Valyrian steel link upon his chain, regarding this…
In his heart, Luwin felt a faint, instinctive resistance.
But when he looked out the window at that living dragon, and even from such a distance could feel the scorching heat radiating from its body, he could only press the doubts in his mind down to the very depths.
The King had spoken of this matter some time ago. Now, under the name of defending the realm entire, he was even summoning all the lords of the North.
Had it not been Kal who did this, complaints might well have already risen high.
Thus, Maester Luwin could only nod.
"Yes, Your Grace. Do you require me to make any arrangements?"
Kal considered for a moment, his gaze passing over Robert and toward the banners of the Vale standing throughout Winterfell.
"The Vale army has already arrived at Winterfell. They are weary from the march, so let them rest for a few days. At the same time, we shall await the remaining northern lords who have yet to arrive."
"And since we are to make a trip to the Dreadfort, the affairs here shall be entrusted to Robb."
"The preparations of this period are already nearly complete. Afterward, you will proceed directly north to the Wall. I shall await you at Castle Black."
Kal had originally intended to remain a while longer, but for now this was the only course.
More importantly, aside from resting, there seemed little for him to do here. If so, it was better to begin preparations in advance.
"Yes, Your Grace!"
Having heard Kal's instructions, Maester Luwin bowed and made ready to depart.
Yet Kal immediately called him back.
Maester Luwin turned, somewhat puzzled.
"This winter has come suddenly, and the North has endured successive wars. By that reckoning, the smallfolk of the northern lands likely have not had much time to prepare for the coming winter, have they?"
As though he had not expected the King to concern himself with matters beyond war, Maester Luwin—who had also been troubled by this in recent days—nodded.
"Yes, Your Grace. If, as your prophecy foretold, this winter is to be harsh, my lord and young Lord Robb were already anxious over this matter."
As he spoke, Maester Luwin's expression was strained, and fatigue could hardly be concealed in his eyes.
Hearing this, Kal smiled faintly. "Jon is now Governor of the Mander and, at the same time, acting lord of Highgarden. If there is need, you may seek aid from him directly."
"At present I also command a considerable fleet. If we recruit additional merchant vessels, it will suffice to supply the entire North."
"As for myself, I must make other preparations for the war of the Long Night. Those concern the war alone. Matters of the people's livelihood must still fall to you."
"Yet if there are difficulties, you may speak of them to me directly."
"I am the King. This is my duty."
When he left Jon at Highgarden and invested him as Governor of the Mander, granting him overall authority over the Reach, Kal had in truth already begun preparing for such matters.
Beyond political considerations, he had also made early arrangements for the livelihood of the people.
To contend against the Long Night and the Others was the concern of all Westeros. No one could stand apart from it.
And by his strength alone—
In truth, Kal had not grown so arrogant.
He dared not assume that the Others, or the Night King, or even the cold god beyond them, would be as foolish as they had seemed in the series he once knew.
Nor did he dare imagine that these foes, who in the books he had once read had long lurked in shadow, would prove as weak as they had appeared in the series he remembered.
If he thought so, the fool would be himself.
The Night King, the Others, the cold god, even the Three-Eyed Raven—beyond the Wall there were far too many unknowns.
Before such unknown enemies, no measure of caution could be excessive.
Otherwise, he would not have set aside his misgivings and chosen to seek aid from the dark elven witch of that other world.
To survive this trial, he must gather every strength that could be gathered.
Maester Luwin had not expected to receive the King's promise so suddenly. At once, his eyes reddened.
"Your Grace, I thank you on my lord's behalf for your aid."
As he spoke, Maester Luwin moved as though to kneel before Kal, but Kal stopped him.
This old man had served House Stark for half his life. He had even delivered each of the Stark children into the world with his own hands.
As their teacher, he had instructed all the Stark children, including Lord Eddard's bastard, Jon, and the ward, Theon Greyjoy.
He had taught Jon the stars, told Bran the tales of the Night's Watch, and recounted to Theon the history of Winterfell.
He had done much for this land and long since regarded it as his home.
"I have said it before—I am the King. This is my duty."
Kal patted the old man on the shoulder, signaling him not to be overcome.
Though Kal spoke lightly, Maester Luwin understood well what those words meant for the whole of the North.
They meant countless lives.
Before long, Kal's promise to the entire North spread throughout Winterfell by midday.
That afternoon, a feast was held in Winterfell and in its great hall. Northerners and men of the Vale sat together, cups raised and wine passed freely. Before the feast had even properly begun, the small estrangement between the two sides had already dissolved.
During the banquet, Kal spoke at length—of the Seven Kingdoms, of the smallfolk, of the future—and once more conveyed to the newly arrived armies of the Vale the responsibility that would soon be theirs.
It was an honor.
With honor set before them, and wine in their blood, these Andals were already aflame with fervor.
Setting aside that it was the King's command—if this matter proved true, they would themselves forge an epic, become heroes as in the Age of Heroes, and be written into history in songs sung for ten thousand years.
Thus, somewhat to Kal's surprise, the men of the Vale did not resent his command.
What Kal did not know was that they did not, in truth, doubt his words.
They were Andals, believers in the Seven, the people who had brought iron and the culture of knighthood to Westeros.
Moreover, the man who delivered this prophecy to them was said to be an incarnation of the Seven.
They had arrived at Winterfell but a day ago, only to hear a tale wholly different from that of the Reach—one unfolding before their very eyes.
The heir of Winterfell, the eldest son of House Stark, Robb Stark, now sat among them in good health.
But the ear that Balon Greyjoy had once cut from him, and the arm that had been hewn off, were now properly preserved by Maester Luwin with alchemical solutions and placed within the crypts of House Stark, awaiting burial alongside Robb Stark when he should one day die.
This was a miracle known to all and witnessed with their own eyes.
Thus, in no regard could they refuse the command Kal conveyed to them.
This man, young beyond reason, had once saved the Vale of Arryn when it had nearly been thrown into turmoil by villains, bringing truth to the Vale.
He had also, by the power of a miracle, saved the heir of House Arryn, one of the most ancient Andal lineages.
The frail lord whom all had believed the last of his line had, in the days thereafter, grown ever healthier before their eyes, and had even now begun to learn the arts of arms.
He was also the sole legitimate blood of the late king, a mighty warrior, a merciful and great king.
He was the undisputed heir to the Iron Throne, the man who had brought dragons—absent for a hundred years—back into the world.
He was stone born of the high mountains, with half the blood of the Andals flowing in his veins, and the Vale was the very first place the Andals had set foot upon when they came to Westeros.
He was, it was said, an incarnation of the Seven.
And now he appeared as the man destined to save them from a calamity that could sweep across all human society.
Many connections once thought trivial had, in these magnified details, taken on new meaning—new revelations.
Thus, in ways even Kal did not perceive, the Vale had already come to regard him differently.
It was a kind of restrained fervor.
After dishes had passed through five flavors and three rounds of wine had been drained, amid the mounting cheer the hours slipped swiftly into night.
And as Kal stood with cup in hand, speaking with Lady Maege Mormont of House Mormont, the current ruler of Bear Island, and with a slender woman of six feet in height standing beside her—
Ser Rodrik Cassel, master-at-arms of Winterfell, his face flushed and his steps unsteady, came before him.
Without a word, he dropped to one knee before Kal.
"Your Grace…" It seemed there were words difficult to speak; Rodrik was not as forthright as he had been in the past.
As Kal stood at the heart of the feast, Rodrik's sudden act naturally drew all eyes. The hall gradually fell silent.
"Ser Rodrik, what need is there to speak in such a fashion?"
Kal made a small jest to ease the awkwardness on Rodrik's face.
"Your Grace, I ask that you heal Theon Greyjoy of his wounds. He… he was innocent in this war."
It was plain that this matter had tormented Rodrik for no small length of time.
After all, the injuries Theon had suffered were all inflicted by his own hand.
And even now, Theon still lay upon his sickbed, yet Rodrik did not dare to look upon him once. Each time Maester Luwin went to examine Theon, he would intercept him halfway, asking after him in hushed concern.
"If Your Grace deems Theon Greyjoy guilty, then I am willing to repay in his stead with my own body…"
Kneeling upon the floor, tears fell unbidden from Rodrik's eyes.
Theon had grown up in Winterfell. Though he bore the name Greyjoy, he was more like a northerner, and even his skill at arms had been taught by Rodrik himself.
Yet it was precisely such a child whom he had harmed because of the war.
At those words, the great hall of Winterfell fell utterly silent.
They also caused Robb's expression to change. He sprang to his feet and rebuked loudly, "Ser Rodrik Cassel, do you know what you are doing?!"
"Guards, take Ser Rodrik away. He is drunk!"
However unversed in politics he might be, Robb understood what such words, spoken before the King in full assembly, meant.
Though he too felt for the brother who had grown beside him, he could not permit such a thing.
Yet as Stark men stepped forward to remove the wine-loosened Rodrik, Kal raised a hand and stayed them.
"There is no need. It is clear that Ser Rodrik did not speak with the intent to offend me."
With that, Kal set the matter in its proper light.
"Theon Greyjoy has indeed done nothing. This calamity had nothing to do with him. Moreover, the harm he has suffered may already be counted as his punishment."
"Ser Rodrik, go and bring Theon here. I will heal him."
"However, from this day forth, he shall take another name."
As he spoke, Kal waved a hand, signaling Rodrik to go.
Rodrik, who had broken into a cold sweat at Robb's rebuke and felt his legs weaken beneath him, was at once overcome with joy.
Shaking off the guards' grasp, he knelt to Kal in gratitude, then hurried out at once.
Seeing this, Maester Luwin quietly ordered two guards to follow him.
Once all was done, the feast seemed to return to its former liveliness.
Yet all present knew they were about to witness a miracle with their own eyes.
The King, however, turned his attention once more to the heir and eldest daughter of House Mormont—Dacey Mormont, more warrior than noble maiden.
"Lady Mormont, would you care to serve as my guard?"
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