The decision, once made, settled a new energy over the Silent Keep. For centuries, Aegis had been a place focused on the past, a sanctuary looking backward. Now, for the first time, its gaze was turned toward the future, toward the living, breathing world of Westeros.
Preparations began immediately, but they were not the hasty arrangements of an escape or a military intervention. This was a diplomatic mission of the most unusual kind.
"We cannot arrive in the Odyssey or in our armor," Torren stated practical, standing in the armory as he looked over their sleek, black equipment. "We'd be seized as invaders or sorcerers before we ever saw the gates of Winterfell."
"You're right," I agreed. "We go as men. Northmen. But we need a plausible story, a reason for two strangers of no known house to request an audience with the Lord of Winterfell."
We spent days in the Eye, studying the current political and economic climate of the North. We learned of the growing trade with Essos via White Harbor, the concerns over wildling incursions, and the ambitions of the various Northern houses.
"We will be merchants," I decided finally. "Merchants from a new, wealthy trading consortium based in the far eastern isles, a place no one has ever heard of. We'll claim to be scouting new trade routes and seeking an audience with Lord Stark to secure exclusive rights to trade in the North."
The cover was perfect. It explained our wealth, our unfamiliar accents, and our lack of a known house name. It gave us a legitimate reason to be there and a means to display our resources without resorting to overt magic.
Next came our appearance. I used the dimension to create clothing of the highest quality—fine wools, boiled leathers, and thick furs, all in the somber greys and blacks of the North, but with a subtle, foreign cut to them. We would look wealthy but not ostentatious. I forged two swords of a remarkable steel alloy—lighter, stronger, and sharper than any Valyrian steel, but without the distinctive ripples, making them a mystery in their own right.
Our transport would be the most critical piece of the illusion. We couldn't use the Odyssey, but I materialized a vessel in a hidden cove on the far side of the island: a handsome trading cog, built of sturdy ironwood and designed to be faster than any ship of its size. It was a vessel that would turn heads but not scream of impossible magic. We named it the Silent Seagull.
The night before our departure, Torren and I stood on the battlements, looking down at the small, sturdy cog that would be our bridge back to our homeland.
"Are you ready for this?" Torren asked. "To see it all again? To stand in the same halls as your brother's descendants?"
I looked at my hands. For centuries, they had reshaped stone and saved the echoes of the past. Now, I would extend one in greeting to my own family. "I'm not sure," I admitted honestly. "I don't know if Rickard Stark will see me as kin, a rival, or a madman. I only know that I have to try. The vision showed me that a time is coming when the North will need every ounce of its strength, both new and forgotten."
"He's a Stark," Torren said with a shrug, as if it were the simplest fact in the world. "He'll see you for what you are."
With Oric and the council of elders managing the day-to-day life of Aegis, we boarded the Silent Seagull. We were no longer the god-like guardians of a secret world. We were two merchants, two travelers, two sons of the North, sailing home to face the family that time had left behind.