The cold had teeth that day. The road north was little more than a scar across the frozen earth. Horses trudged on with stubborn endurance, hooves breaking the thin crust of snow with dull, rhythmic cracks. Somewhere among the group a child coughed, a small, human sound swallowed quickly by the vast silence of the North.Tyrion pulled his cloak tighter, already weary of the journey, the cold, and the company.
"You wouldn't have, hypothetically, a hidden stash of whores, wine and good food? Would you?" asked Tyrion, unamused about the answer that he would be given.
"I am afraid not, Lord Lannister—" answered Yoren with a little schadenfreude
"—and even if we did, Lord Stark gave us explicit orders about it. Sobriety may give some sense to a confused cat."
"Fuck," said Tyrion, now completely done with his expedition, and wanting to go back to the comfort of the south.
"Yea, my lord, fuck," chuckled Yoren at his side.
"At least stop calling me Lord . My father is Lord Lannister, not me," Tyrion said.
"Not yet," interrupted Yoren to Tyrion's surprise. The little cat's ears would have gone up now if he had some.
"You… seem quite informed about the happenings of the south, wouldn't you think?" Tyrion fished. Yoren did not blink and ousted Tyrion immediately.
"Ask away if you want, no need to beat around the bush. This is the North," explained Yoren.
"Mmmmhh… you are still more charming for a northerner than your Lord Stark. Seriously, he gives the chills." Tyrion laughed it away but Yoren did not. He looked into Tyrion's eyes like a beast eyeing his prey.
"Yeahh… I can see the familiarity. Scary northerners…" confessed Tyrion, to which Yoren laughed.
"Aye, cold is harsh, so we need to be harsher to survive it, especially up there," Yoren joked. Tyrion scoffed lightly.
"You remind me of a cheeky fellow," Tyrion said.
"Sebastian?" Yoren added.
Tyrion spat on the floor at hearing that name. Yoren's smile widened even more.
"Did he pull a sebastieenee out of you?" and with that question, Tyrion's pretenses of politeness dropped. Indignation filled his face at his previous experience.
"DID… does he do it… often?" Tyrion tried to politely ask.
Yoren shrugged.
"Last I heard from Benjen, he pulled a sebastienne on a bunch of drunkards that harassed some maids. He showed them the Throngler, and that scared them away,"
Yoren recounted with mirth in his eyes.Tyrion looked confused at that.
"Throngler?" he asked doubtfully.
"Aye… he warned them, next time they pulled that shit, he would push the Throngler so deep that the dead god's drowned priests would envy them due to how deep IT would be pushed," and that woke Tyrion up.
"Funny that you mentioned it, drowned god, ironborn? Their activities seem to have decreased quite a lot. Heard any rumor about them?" he changed the subject while Yoren opened his whisky skin and took a sip.
"What if I did?" Yoren replied while looking at the shine beside Tyrion's waist, near his purse.
Tyrion squinted in response."A man of culture, I see," replied Tyrion while examining his purse in his hands. Gold.
Yoren laughed so hard that his horse was a little startled by him.Tyrion looked at him, then at their entourage made of kids, the old, and all the people whom the crow recruited.
"I admit that my jokes are a sight to behold, but what has made you laugh so hard, my friend?"Yoren composed himself and looked Tyrion in the eyes.
"It's not gold what I seek, little lord — it's steel," explained Yoren, while looking at the dagger at Tyrion's waist.
"My, my, and what would you need steel for, my friend? For I am sure that Lord Stark must have given you plenty already," Tyrion asked, puzzled by the request.
"It seems that not even gold can buy news from beyond," Yoren muttered.
"For a northerner, you sure love beating around the bush," countered Tyrion.
"Wildlings, little lord. They seem to have a new king. And we need any help we can get," explained Yoren, while looking at their entourage.
"We are short of people, you see."Tyrion opened his eyes, and really looked at their entourage. He had seen the crows recruiting, but he had never seen so many people before.
Made a mistake, thought Tyrion while reassessing his options.I need information, the North's new riches, the Iron Islands' scavengers gone, and now the wildlings. There must be a connection Tyrion calculated in his mind.
"Then we have a deal, Yoren?" he replied, with a smile often used by the sand sellers in the desert.
"Ha, not my call, little lord. For that, you will have to talk with the Lord Commander."
"Wonderful," replied a faux-excited Tyrion."Can you at least give me a taste? For a fellow drinking buddy?" Tyrion threw his wine skin, his favorite, into Yoren's hands. Yoren caught it. He took a sip and smiled.
"Aye, so you want rumors? The drowned god is dead, or so the they say."And that, that woke Tyrion up.
"Makes sense. Dead gods tend to be bad sailors," and they both laughed at the absurdity.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Lord Commander's office.
The cold seeped into the room like an old wound refusing to heal. There, the Lord Commander sipped his glass of water, refusing to take a sip of alcohol until the storm passed. In front of him, the Wall's First Steward Bowen Marsh sat, copying the Lord Commander.
"How is it?" asked Jeor.
"Better, Lord Commander. Poole's help has been crucial in gathering resources across the North. The new money flux has been a blessing for the Night's Watch, the trainees are getting better, but we need more steel. Any news from Benjen?" Jeor Mormont nodded carefully.
"The wildling clans are fighting among themselves. Alfyn is dead, may his soul rot under the Old Gods' watch. And some survivors are getting desperate to cross the Wall," he explained.
"A new king? Is it Mance Rayder?" asked Bowen.
"No, this is not Mance's way. If it were him, he would have allied them or fought Alfyn and won his clan. Not this time, no." The Lord Commander looked at Bowen, and finally said,"The wildlings, from Benjen's findings, they are getting settled. They are building a village for this King and their allied clans." explained Jeor.
"Lord Commander, that is not possible. The wildlings, their ways—" Bowen said
"Aye, but evidence points to the opposite. The more violent clans are getting exterminated, and the less violent are gathering in this settlement. From Benjen's findings, and with the help of Myrish glasses, he could see how they built a ring of timber palisades, smoke rising in steady columns. Not a camp, no, a village..." Jeor drank more water to recompose himself. "Their humongous door even has a motif… a single leaf."
_ _ _ __ __ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ __ __ _ _
A/N: Hello, I made a chapter, hope you like it. Leave stones, or comments, and yeah. About my absence, well, life. I panicked by the massive influx of people entering (Do i write well, where do I get the stry an all of that) and also life responsabilities. I am sure that a lot of people reading this have jobs, some kids, or other responsabilities. That is life. Hope You have a good day. I will also be changing the title, you see in my drive the file is called narutoxasoiaf, more naruto stuff will bleed in westeros (because that is how I planned it before)