Marco looked at Bloodraven, Brynden Rivers, kneeling before him, and couldn't help but grumble inwardly:
Why do the Targaryens all like to be naked? Couldn't you put on some clothes first?
Even though he thought this, he still said, "Alright! Alright! Get up and speak! Sir Brynden! Henk, prepare some clothes for Sir Brynden!"
About 15 minutes later, Brynden Rivers, now dressed, came to Marco's side. It was worth noting that he had his family's heirloom sword, Dark Sister, at his waist.
Although Brynden Rivers was a bastard, he was legitimized by his father, Aegon IV.
Among the Great Bastards of Aegon IV, several were called "Great Bastards" because their mothers came from noble families. There were nine of them in total, and Brynden Rivers was one of them.
This sword had been with Leaf and the others since he became the Three-Eyed Raven, along with his weirwood longbow.
Dark Sister was a Valyrian Steel longsword belonging to House Targaryen, first wielded by Visenya, the sister-wife of Aegon the Conqueror.
Later, this sword passed to Brynden Rivers. Aegon V didn't take the ancestral sword back when he sent him to the Night's Watch.
Marco looked at the Duke Bloodraven, who was in his prime, and was very satisfied. He felt that the Three-Eyed Raven had finally done something relatively reliable this time!
Marco said to Brynden Rivers, "Sit down! I'll take you to see an old friend later, but you still need to cover your face. After all, our appearance is considered rebellious in the Seven Kingdoms! We don't need to attract unnecessary trouble for now!"
"Yes, Lord Marco! Is the old friend you mentioned Maester Aemon? I didn't expect him to still be alive? The magic array on the Wall is too strong, and we couldn't probe the situation here before. I thought he had already passed away!"
Brynden Rivers spoke respectfully to Marco, but the way he said "Maester Aemon" was really awkward, making Marco's eyelids twitch.
So he couldn't help but say to Brynden Rivers:
"He's 98 years old, but his health is still good. Including you, there are only four of you left in House Targaryen. Ah! Wait, there's one more! Let's count them all! The more magical bloodlines there are, the more beneficial it will be for our future endeavors!"
Seeing that Marco didn't continue the conversation, Brynden Rivers closed his mouth appropriately. He knew that Marco would tell him who that special family member was at the right time!
After eating, Marco and his companions arrived at the entrance to the passageway at Castle Black. Jeor Mormont, "the Old Bear," had already come to greet Marco, having received word of their arrival.
With him was Jon Umber (Smalljon) of House Umber. Seeing Marco dismount, Smalljon enthusiastically ran over and embraced him in a hug.
Marco could only helplessly return the gesture, thumping him on the back to show friendliness. He didn't like this strange greeting style. If it were a beautiful woman, it would be another story, but unfortunately, it was a bearded man!
Following this, Smalljon began to tell Marco about the events that had transpired since his departure. It turned out that after learning of Marco's departure from Castle Black, Greatjon had sent Smalljon to find him.
Although they had initially guessed that Marco would head beyond the Wall, they hadn't expected him to go so far. If it weren't for the Old Bear's intervention, Smalljon would have already led the family knights north to find Marco.
At this moment, Jeor Mormont, "the Old Bear," looked at Marco with a complicated expression. Then he turned his gaze to Craster's daughters and wives, and he sighed inwardly.
"Commander! Thank you for your assistance. Someone has already explained in the letter that these subordinates will be stationed outside Castle Black. After I visit Maester Aemon, I will take my leave!
Oh! Right! Also! Thank you for your 'help'. Thanks to your raven, I have seen those legendary Servants of the Others! Although they are a bit difficult to deal with, at least I managed to get through them without a hitch!"
Marco addressed Jeor Mormont, ending with a small jab, seemingly annoyed by the old man's overflowing sympathy!
Upon hearing Marco's words, "the Old Bear" Jeor Mormont's expression shifted several times. He stood there for a moment, stunned. Regaining his composure, he hurriedly called out to Marco:
"Lord Marco! I..."
Although Jeor Mormont wanted to explain himself to Marco, when the words reached his lips, the Lord Commander found he had nothing to say.
For a moment, emotions of self-reproach, regret, sadness, and relief surged in his mind, causing him to forget many things!
And the Night's Watch warriors around him were in a state of jaw-dropping astonishment. Giants, the Children of the Forest—when these legends appeared alive before them, they could only express their excitement with blank expressions!
This time, Marco had also brought all the mammoths raised by the giants. Marco didn't want to leave them behind to become wights, so he brought them all at once.
These mammoths were all raised by the giants from a young age and were very gentle and clingy. Marco planned to establish a war elephant unit in the future.
Marco would pay House Umber some money to keep these big fellas penned up for a while. Marco would take a batch of the small ones and raise them on Skagos.
After leaving the passage, Marco brought Brynden Rivers to Maester Aemon's quarters. Maester Aemon had just gotten up. Normally, he would sit in his chair at this hour and listen to his two stewards read raven letters.
After greeting the stewards, Marco and Brynden Rivers sat down. Brynden Rivers looked at Maester Aemon with a complicated expression.
Maester Aemon was truly old, a far cry from the wise prince that Brynden Rivers remembered. However, his gentle smile hadn't changed much, and his voice was still calm and steady.
Maester Aemon had just finished listening to the stewards' reports. He turned to Marco and said in Valyrian:
"How was your journey beyond the Wall, Lord Marco? Any gains? Is this person with you a relative?"
Marco replied with a smile, "I gained quite a bit, but the biggest gain is that I've brought back an old friend of yours!"
As soon as he finished speaking, Brynden Rivers took over, addressing Maester Aemon:
"Prince Aemon! Long time no see! You've gotten old!"
The words "You've gotten old" carried a lot of emotion, as if lamenting all that the two of them had gone through over the years, and also lamenting the impermanence of fate.
Hearing Brynden Rivers' familiar tone, Maester Aemon immediately lost his composure. He trembled with excitement as he asked:
"Are you Brynden? How... how is this possible? You should be dead! Or! Have you! Have you succeeded?"
"Yes! Prince Aemon! I found the legendary Children of the Forest, but I didn't succeed, and the power of the Dragon Egg was also exhausted. We failed once again!"
Brynden Rivers said to Maester Aemon, his face filled with apology.
"This was just a conjecture to begin with. Everyone has paid too much for this unattainable dream, and Aegon even sacrificed his life for this dream!"
Maester Aemon said calmly, but his tone was tinged with a hint of disappointment.
Brynden Rivers said with dissatisfaction, "That wasn't an accident at all, Aemon! You and I both know, if..."
"Enough! Brynden! The family has already lost the Iron Throne, it's all meaningless! Now I only hope that the last two descendants can live in peace, and not think about Westeros anymore! Cough cough cough!"
Maester Aemon shouted loudly, and stood up from his seat, his words filled with helplessness and pain, and in the end, he coughed violently with excitement.
Seeing this, the two stewards beside him rushed forward to support Maester Aemon and helped him back to his seat.
Every time Marco came here and spoke Valyrian, the two stewards would feel their heads buzzing, because Maester Aemon would become very excited every time he met him.
These two guys both wanted Maester Aemon to live forever so they could continue their leisurely work.
Brynden Rivers was glared at by them, watching the stewards who were already preparing to send him away.
Marco slowly stood up and said, "The wheel of fate has already begun to turn, Maester Aemon, it's time for this world to change! You've helped me a lot, and in return, I will always help the Night's Watch, to deal with the White Walkers, and provide them with supplies. So, see you next time!"
After he finished speaking, Marco turned and walked out, completely ignoring the two staring officials.
Brynden Rivers also stood up and said, "Prince Aemon! Farewell. As for those traitorous houses, I will destroy them one by one. I swear it in the name of Bloodraven! Lord Marco will eventually rule the world!"
With that, he rushed out to catch up with Marco's pace. Seeming to sense Brynden Rivers's low spirits, Marco turned and looked at him, asking:
"What's wrong? Are you thinking about your former family?"
"My Lord Marco! I apologize! I was a bit out of sorts!"
Marco said to him, "I understand your loyalty to House Targaryen, and I know how much you've sacrificed for your family. To be honest, I really admire you for saving your family on your own. It's just a pity that you're in a declining era. Your family has lost too much and missed too many opportunities!
Therefore, I will not make such mistakes. In my empire, there will only be one voice in the future, and that is my voice!"
"But my Lord! We don't have dragons anymore, I..."
Brynden Rivers hadn't finished speaking when Marco raised his hand to interrupt him. Marco looked at him and said, word by word:
"No! You're wrong, Brynden! The rise of House Targaryen has always relied on magic and spells. We don't rely on some noble bloodline; we've always relied on our own power! Magic has returned! The dragons will naturally return!"
"Yes! Lord Marco! I will continue to work hard! Long live House Targaryen!"
After listening to Marco, Brynden Rivers felt his whole being enlightened. With a complete understanding, he loudly assured Marco.
Marco and the others had just walked to the training ground of the Black Castle when Jon Umber (Smalljon) hurried over. He said to Marco:
"Lord Marco! Aren't we staying here for the night? Are your men going with us? If so, I need to arrange for people to prepare in advance."
After hearing this, Marco replied to Jon Umber (Smalljon): "These giants and the Children of the Forest will take a ship to Skagos, where someone's fleet will meet them.
And someone will also make one last journey in the North. Someone wants to visit Winterfell to see House Stark! Someone also hopes to discuss some matters of Erok's tribe with Duke Stark in person!"
Jon Umber (Smalljon) asked in surprise, "Eh! Lord Marco! Did you also find out about that? Right! Didn't you come from Skagos?"
"Hahaha! It's really funny, those softies from House Bolton lost a battle and actually blamed the Wizards' magic, it's hilarious!"
"What! You don't believe in magic?"
Seeing the disdain on Jon Umber (Smalljon)'s face, Marco found it amusing and asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.
Jon Umber (Smalljon) was stunned for a moment, then seemed to think of something, and said:
"I didn't believe it before, but I started to believe it after seeing those Wights last time, and those ghostly things were really terrifying! I still feel a dull ache in my feet!
But, I don't believe those flaying softies really encountered magic, they just lost and didn't dare to admit it."
Marco chuckled at the words and said to Jon Umber (Smalljon):
"Hahaha! That's right! That's right! Someone was watching back then! They were all defeated by the tribal warriors!"
About ten minutes later, Marco divided the assembled team into two groups. This time, Leaf was added to Marco's expedition to Winterfell.
Marco's fleet had entered the Night's Watch's harbor at Eastwatch three days prior. Ever since he had acquired those three oar-powered warships from House Bolton's expeditionary force, Marco had entrusted some of the rock-seed fishermen to Shael for training.
After several months of training, those fellows had basically mastered some basic operational skills. Although they couldn't be put into battle yet, they were more than capable of handling some transportation work.
This time, to avoid any accidents, Marco also sent out the Fang, instructing him to lead this team back to Griffin's Roost.
The Bloodstone Elders and their people had also made preparations long ago, especially the giants and the Children of the Forest. Marco had even designated a forest area closest to Griffin's Roost for them.
The primary purpose of this expedition was for Leaf and her people, and also to survey the situation in the North, so as to lay a foundation for his future plans.
The resources obtained this time were also enough for Marco to spend for a while. When Marco's system soldiers were converted, it would be the beginning of his seizing the world!
Marco closed his eyes, and a picture appeared in his mind.
It was a vast forest, ancient and silent. The trees were towering, their branches intertwined, blocking out the sun. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. In the distance, he could hear the faint sound of a rushing river.
He knew this place. It was the godswood of Winterfell.
He saw a young Marco, no older than ten years old, standing before a weirwood tree. Its white bark was smooth and cold to the touch, and its crimson leaves rustled softly in the breeze. Carved into the trunk was a face, its eyes open and watchful.
I shouldn't have come here, the young Marco thought. He was supposed to be practicing his swordsmanship with the other boys, but he had been drawn to this place. He felt a strange pull, a sense of peace and... something else he couldn't quite name.
A figure emerged from the shadows. It was a man, tall and gaunt, with long, grey hair and piercing red eyes. He wore dark, simple clothes, and a raven perched on his shoulder.
It was Duke Bloodraven.
"You are curious, boy," Bloodraven said, his voice a low rasp.
The young Marco swallowed, his heart pounding in his chest. "Yes, my lord."
Bloodraven smiled, a cold, unsettling expression. "The gods have many secrets, and the weirwood trees are their eyes and ears. They see everything that happens in this world."
He gestured towards the tree. "Look into its face, boy. See what it shows you."
Marco hesitated, then reached out and touched the face of the weirwood. Immediately, images flooded his mind – fleeting glimpses of the past, present, and future. He saw battles, betrayals, and death. He saw the rise and fall of kingdoms. He saw the coming of a long winter, and a darkness that would threaten to consume the world.
He recoiled, gasping for breath.
"What did you see?" Bloodraven asked.
"I... I don't know," Marco stammered. "Too much."
Bloodraven chuckled. "The future is a tapestry, boy, woven from countless threads. Some are strong, some are weak, and some are broken. But all are connected."
He placed a hand on Marco's shoulder. "You have a gift, boy. A rare and dangerous gift. Use it wisely."
Then, the vision faded. Marco opened his eyes, back in the present. The memory felt as fresh as if it had happened yesterday.
He knew why he had this vision. The Three-Eyed Raven was gone. The mantle had to be passed on.
Marco took a deep breath, trying to calm the turmoil in his mind. He knew what he had to do. He had to find the last of the Children of the Forest, and the last of the weirwood trees. He had to learn how to control his gift. He had to prepare for the coming darkness.
He got up and walked towards the door of his room.
He had a long journey ahead of him.
He walked out of the room and saw the same scene as before. The sun was shining, and the birds were singing. But Marco knew that the world was about to change.
He looked up at the sky. I hope I can survive this.
He walked forward, his steps firm and steady.
He was ready.