Chapter 129 – The Phantom Turtle
After Robb's vanguard had secured its footing at the Wall, the main Northern host arrived not long afterward.
Faced with a wildling force numbering in the hundreds of thousands, no Northern lord could remain calm. Plans that should have unfolded steadily were hastily accelerated, everyone fearing that chaos might erupt among the wildlings before matters were settled.
Yet, contrary to expectations, the wildlings proved far more compliant than anyone had imagined.
Before their submission, the tribes had shouted themselves hoarse, swearing they would rather die than become kneelers. But when the moment truly arrived, they were surprisingly satisfied with the outcome.
The elderly, women, and children were resettled on the long-abandoned lands south of the Wall, where they began rebuilding their "homes." The able-bodied adults, after swearing their oaths, were absorbed into the ranks of the Night's Watch. As a result, fortresses that had stood empty for generations at the foot of the Wall were once again filled with life.
In the past, the Wall had boasted nineteen castles. But due to chronic manpower shortages, only three had remained in use:
Shadow Tower to the west, nestled against the mountains; Eastwatch-by-the-Sea to the east; and Castle Black at the center.
Now, everything bustled with activity. To the wildlings, this warm, safe world south of the Wall felt like a miracle. Those country bumpkins barely had time to catch their breath—let alone stir up trouble.
Naturally, there were frictions and conflicts along the way. But under the momentum of the greater situation, all of it passed without serious incident.
Even by the time the Northern army fully arrived, nothing disastrous had occurred.
...
The main force was led by one of the Northern lords with whom Charles was not particularly familiar. As such, Charles did not go out to receive them.
Instead, when the army arrived, he was in his chambers within the King's Tower, crouched on the floor and quietly studying a brown turtle submerged in a vat of purple liquid. Strange runes were inscribed across its shell.
[Sea Musk Turtle, soaked in a specially prepared solution for three days and three nights.
Its body is now saturated with magical energy.]
[It is extremely afraid of you.]
...
At times, Charles felt that the prompts from the Eye of Reality were a bit redundant—like now. After all, he himself had placed the poor creature into the purple liquid; he knew perfectly well what had been done to it.
And judging by how the turtle had completely withdrawn into its shell, it was hardly difficult to guess its current "state of mind."
"Then again," Charles muttered to himself, "don't turtles usually hide in their shells whenever they see people anyway?"
He recalled the incantation used to create a Phantom Turtle and was just about to begin chanting—
When a sudden commotion broke out beyond the door.
"You don't recognize me?"
"Of course I do. But I'm sorry, Lady Stark—my lord has instructed that no one is to disturb him."
"I'm his good friend."
"He said anyone."
"Children don't count as 'anyone.'"
"'Anyone' includes children, Lady Stark."
"You're infuriating!"
...
The guard did his duty and blocked the visitor outside. If it had been anyone else, Charles likely wouldn't have bothered. But judging by the voice, the person looking for him was clearly a familiar face—one with a notably thick skin.
So he raised his voice and gave an order.
"Let her in."
"Yes, sir." The guard answered through the door, sounding visibly relieved. A moment later, the door opened, and a gray figure darted inside.
Brown hair, gray eyes, a long face and short stature. She wore a light green dress that carried a distinctly ladylike air, along with a neat, white fox-fur cloak. At first glance, she looked no different from any well-bred noble girl.
But her behavior was anything but ladylike.
She ran straight up to him and grinned. "Charles!"
Unlike her, Charles wasn't nearly so carefree. Looking at the cheerful, lively girl, he frowned slightly.
"What are you doing here?"
Would the Starks really let their precious daughter travel all the way here alone? With no family members accompanying her, the situation felt decidedly off.
"Obviously, I came to find you," the girl replied. As she spoke, her gaze drifted curiously toward the turtle in front of Charles—submerged in a silver basin, hiding timidly in its shell.
Noticing her interest, Charles had no intention of indulging her curiosity. Instead, he frowned more deeply.
"This place is cold, broken-down, and crawling with White Walkers. It's dangerous."
"Father says it's much safer here than Winterfell," the girl shot back, pouting.
Charles laughed instinctively, assuming she was joking. But seeing the odd expression on her face, his tone sobered.
"What's wrong?"
"Bran is missing," she said, biting her lip.
"Missing?"
"Yes!" Arya said urgently. "And Meera and Jojen from Greywater Watch disappeared with him. They were visiting Winterfell, and not long after, all three vanished. Mother thinks they abducted Bran, but Father says Howland Reed is his closest friend—he once saved Father's life—so his children would never do something like that."
"Didn't you find any clues?" Charles asked.
"There are lots of traces," Arya replied, frustrated. "But no people."
Charles nodded slowly, deep in thought. This almost certainly had something to do with the Three-Eyed Raven.
Even if it didn't, something of this scale happening in Winterfell would hardly escape the notice of the Stark family's so-called "guardian."
He vaguely recalled a similar plotline from the original story.
What was the purpose again?
Charles pondered silently and didn't ask further questions.
Arya, seeing his mood, didn't press the issue. Instead, she turned her attention to his chambers, studying the unfamiliar furnishings with fascination.
Still, what intrigued her most was the turtle soaking in the silver basin.
She squatted beside it, examined it closely, and even poked it a few times. When Charles remained silent for a long while, she finally asked,
"What are you doing?"
"Making a magical item," Charles replied. After a brief pause, he pushed thoughts of the Three-Eyed Raven aside and turned his attention back to the object at his feet.
A half-finished product.
He wasn't done yet.
Local magic and enchanted item crafting were notoriously complicated. Preparing the purple liquid alone had taken nearly a week. Carving the strange symbols into the shell had taken another three days.
Not to mention the many turtles sacrificed along the way.
These sigils, learned from warlocks, weren't something that could simply be etched with a casual incantation. He had to carve them personally, blade in hand.
Thankfully, the knowledge he gained through "leveling up" was as natural and fluent as if he'd learned it himself. Otherwise, the process would have taken far longer.
Seeing Arya quiet down, Charles continued his work without bothering to avoid her presence.
As the harsh, guttural incantation left his lips, the turtle suddenly extended its limbs and began thrashing wildly, as if enduring tremendous pain. Its small eyes bulged as its body trembled violently, the brown-black skin slowly shifting in color.
At the same time, the symbols on its shell began to glow faintly—colorless, subtle, yet somehow revealing vague images beneath the shell.
The purple liquid in the basin started to swirl. The turtle's natural coloring was steadily drained away, its body growing pale and dull, as though it were melting. A weak, pitiful hissing sound escaped it.
Unable to bear the sight, Arya turned her head away.
When the sound finally stopped and she looked back, the turtle was gone.
Shell, limbs—everything had vanished.
Or rather, it hadn't vanished.
It had changed.
The turtle was now semi-transparent.
The once solid, fully formed brown turtle had become hazy and ghostlike. Arya could even see the flat, solid silver bottom of the basin through its body!
"What's it used for?" she asked eagerly. Any trace of sympathy she'd felt earlier had long since vanished.
Charles didn't answer. Instead, he muttered another string of incomprehensible words.
The turtle stretched its neck as if responding. Then, paddling its limbs like a swimmer, it glided through the liquid—only for its translucent form to vanish in the blink of an eye.
Arya watched with shining eyes, expecting it to reappear or transform into something else.
Instead, moments later, a hesitant, uneasy voice came from outside the door.
"M-my lord… were you looking for me?"