The massive grey walls of Winterfell rose from the snow like the spine of the earth itself.
To the smallfolk of the North, this castle was not just a fortress. It was a god made of granite. It was said that Brandon the Builder had raised these stones with the help of giants and the magic of the Children of the Forest. The walls were double layered, with a moat of dark water between them. Steam rose from the earth around the foundations, powered by the hot springs that flowed beneath the castle like warm blood in a cold body.
Andar pulled on his reins. He looked up at the looming towers.
Compared to his rotting wooden walls at Deepwood Keep, this was a true city of war.
"We are here," Jory whispered. He sounded intimidated. The men of the Iron Squad adjusted their cloaks, trying to hide the nervousness in their eyes.
They were country boys. They had never seen so many people in their lives.
The Winter Town, the sprawling settlement outside the main gates of the castle, was overflowing. Usually empty during summer, it was now packed to the bursting point. The King was here. Every Lord, every hedge knight, every whore, and every beggar in the North had flocked to Winterfell to see the fat Stag King and his golden Queen.
Mud churned under thousands of boots. The air smelled of woodsmoke, roasting meat, horse dung, and unwashed bodies.
"Make way!"
A column of riders pushed past Andar's small caravan. They wore heavy plate armor and cloaks of pink and red.
The Boltons.
Andar watched them pass. Their leader, Roose Bolton, was not there, but his men carried the Flayed Man banner with a quiet menace. They looked at Andar's muddy wagons and simple leather armor with open contempt.
"Move aside peasant," a Bolton manatarms sneered, spitting on the ground near Andar's horse.
Jory's hand twitched toward his musket.
"Steady," Andar said softly. "Do not waste a bullet on a dog."
He urged his horse forward, merging into the chaotic flow of traffic heading toward the Hunter's Gate.
[Location Detected: Winterfell]
[Political Importance: High]
[Resource: Thermal Energy (Hot Springs)]
[Quest Update: The Stage is Set]
Andar scanned the area. He saw the banners of House Karstark, House Umber, House Manderly, and House Cerwyn. Their camps were large and loud. They had pavilions made of silk and wool. They had fires roasting whole oxen. They had hundreds of soldiers sharpening steel swords.
Andar had two wagons covered in grey tarp. And five men holding strange sticks.
They looked pathetic.
They reached the checkpoint at the gate. A weary Stark guard held up a hand.
"Hold. State your name and business."
"Andar Stark," he replied. "Lord of Deepwood Keep. Here to answer the summons of Lord Eddard."
The guard blinked. He looked at a list on a clipboard.
"Deepwood Keep?" The guard squinted at the wagons. "Ah. The cadet branch. We were not sure if you would make it. The snows are deep."
He looked at the Iron Squad.
"Are these your... soldiers?" The guard sounded confused. "Where are their spears? Where are their shields?"
"We travel light," Andar said.
The guard shrugged. "Very well. The main courtyard is full. The Karstarks and the Umbers have taken the best spots. You will have to set up your tents in the outer ward, near the dog kennels."
It was an insult. A deliberate placement for the lowest of the low.
"The kennels are fine," Andar said. His face was a mask of calm. "The dogs are honest creatures. I prefer them to some of the Lords I have seen."
The guard snorted, surprised by the boldness. "Move along then."
They set up camp in the shadow of the broken tower.
The smell of the kennels was strong, but the ground was warm due to the hot springs pipes running underneath.
The men of the Iron Squad were angry.
"They treat us like beggars," Tom muttered as he hammered a tent peg into the mud. "Did you see that Karstark squire? He laughed at my musket. He asked if it was a walking stick for my grandmother."
"Let them laugh," Jory said, polishing the barrel of his weapon with a fierce intensity. "The bandits laughed too."
Andar sat on a crate of ammunition. He was watching the main castle. He could hear music drifting from the Great Keep. The feast was starting soon. The King would be eating, drinking, and judging the North.
"My Lord," Cullen asked. The old steward had insisted on coming, claiming he needed to protect the family honor. "The presentation of gifts is tomorrow morning. What is the plan?"
"The plan is simple," Andar said. "We wait."
He pointed to the busy courtyard.
"Look at them Cullen. The Umbers brought giant furs. The Manderlys brought silver and spices. The Karstarks brought warhorses."
Andar picked up a paper cartridge and rolled it between his fingers.
"They bring things that belong to the past. They are competing to see who is the best medieval lord. I am not playing their game."
Suddenly a shadow fell over them.
A giant of a man walked into their small camp. He was nearly seven feet tall, broad as a castle wall, with a wild beard and a booming laugh.
The Greatjon. Jon Umber.
He was drunk. He held a wineskin in one hand and a leg of lamb in the other. He was wandering through the camps, looking for drinking buddies or a fight.
He stopped and looked at Andar's meager setup.
"Hah!" The Greatjon roared. "What is this? A camp for ants?"
He stumbled closer, peering at Andar.
"You have the Stark look," Greatjon bellowed. "But you are small! Are you the Deepwood boy? The one whose father died chasing a shadowcat?"
Andar stood up. He did not look up. He looked the giant straight in the chest.
"I am Andar Stark. And my father died fighting wildlings to protect your borders Lord Umber."
The Greatjon blinked. He liked spirit.
"Hah! Fair enough! But where are your men? Where is your steel?"
He kicked the wheel of the wagon.
"Is this your tribute for the King? Firewood?"
The tarp slipped slightly, revealing the stacked iron bars and the wooden crates of black powder.
"Careful Lord Umber," Andar said softly. "That wagon contains something more dangerous than your sword."
The Greatjon laughed so hard he spilled wine on his beard.
"Dangerous? A wooden box? Boy you have been out in the cold too long! Your brain has frozen!"
He turned to his men who were trailing behind him.
"Come on lads! Let us find some real drink! This place smells of wet dog and poverty!"
They left, their laughter echoing off the stone walls.
Jory stepped forward, his face red with rage. He gripped his musket.
"My Lord... give the order. I will put a ball in his knee."
"No," Andar said. "Not yet."
He watched the Greatjon walk away.
"He is loud. He is arrogant. And he is exactly what we need."
Andar turned to Jory.
"Tomorrow the King will hold a melee. A mock battle to entertain the court. The Greatjon will be there. The King will be there."
Andar's eyes gleamed with a cold metallic light.
"Tomorrow Jory you will not shoot a bandit. Tomorrow you will shoot the strongest shield in the North."
"We are going to enter the melee?" Jory asked, shocked. "With five men?"
"Yes," Andar smiled. "And we are going to end it in ten seconds."
[Quest Update: The King's Attention]
[Sub Objective: Humiliate a Great House in combat.]
[Reward: Blueprint Bayonet Attachment]
Andar looked at the darkening sky.
"Get some sleep men. Tomorrow we rewrite the history books."
.....
Author Note
Hi guys! Thank you for reading my fanfiction.
I wanted to let you know that I'm releasing bonus chapters for Power Stones. Here are the goals:
25 Power Stones: 1 Bonus Chapters
50 Power Stones: 1 Bonus Chapters
75 Power Stones: 2 Bonus Chapters
100 Power Stones: 2 Bonus Chapters
Thanks for the support!