8 Chapter 8 EDDARD

" " Dialogue

' ' Internal Thought

«» Written Note or Letter

*** Scene Break

() Author's Explanatory Note

A boy could be seen exercising in the Winterfell Goodwood, his black hair drenched in sweat. Two people could be seen beside him, waiting for him to finish his set.

"Ready, Duncan... Arwen, report on the status of the projects."

"Of course, my lord. Currently, we have people in all the northern castles except the Boltons; their counterintelligence has not allowed us to place a single guard, but we have identified all the spies from other lords. I must say that most of them are in White Harbor," Arwen said.

"Very well done. Please inform the order that I will see them in the Wolf Wood within 6 moons. I want to meet them in person; the agents south of the Neck may not show up."

"Understood, Your Majesty."

"For my part, the training of your guards is excellent. As I indicated, they are all capable of shooting at least 200 meters without fail. In addition, the engineer has taught them to set up wooden camps in a short time. We are ready to meet with you when you order."

"Excellent. Have you said goodbye to Nan? We will probably be away for at least a year."

"Yes, my lord."

"As I prepared and packed my things, I couldn't help but think about how much I had grown over these two years."

Eddard Stark

Level 60 > 41

No title

Age: 9 years

Skills

LANGUAGE:

Common / Advanced

Old Tongue / Advanced

Valyrian / Advanced

POLITICS / Intermediate

MEDICINE / Intermediate

BLACKSMITHING / Adept

WARFARE / Intermediate

ADMINISTRATION / Advanced

MAGIC:

Warg / Intermediate

RUNES / Intermediate

Greenseer / Beginner

Devour / Advanced

BEAST TAMER: Not equipped

Horse / Intermediate

Dog / Advanced

WEAPONS:

Dagger / Advanced / EQUIPPED

One-handed sword / Intermediate

Two-handed sword / Intermediate

Bow / Intermediate

Lance / Beginner

Axe / Intermediate

Shield / Intermediate

Special

Dual wield / Beginner

Horse archery / Adept

I didn't think I would grow so much so quickly. Now I realize that muscle improvement allows me to grow faster simply because my muscles can exert more force and recover faster. I know I'm not a sword genius, although it may seem that way to others. It's all hard work and specialized exercises. Who am I kidding? I just tried to copy routines I knew from the internet and miraculously they worked. Now I look like a twelve-year-old boy, taller than Brandon though not by much.

It's been two years since Marwyn arrived at Winterfell and, as he said, my father received in his appointment from the Citadel what led him to settle in the castle, and not just him. It turns out that Marwyn brought acolytes and engineers who follow him everywhere, all those people rejected by the Citadel for various reasons, but also artisans from different fields. He even brought his own brewer. According to Marwyn, when one travels too much, it's indispensable to have enough capable hands. I still don't understand how his own women would be indispensable for traveling, but well, maybe I should wait for my second puberty to find out.

I must say that the partnership with Marwyn has been more beneficial for my projects than for his. Thanks to his people, I can carry out several ideas that were limited both by money and specialized personnel.

With my father's permission, I arranged for a brewery to be set up in the name of the Starks near the Cassel mansion, although my motivation was not to make beer but to distill pure alcohol. From what I remember of my life, treating wounds with alcohol is not one hundred percent effective, but in these times that are more like the medieval era, it can help fight infections and deaths from simple cuts.

For now, this factory will be responsible for making supplies for the guards and slowly accumulating potato alcohol for future wars. Maybe when I have enough capital, I can produce vodka. It can be made from any grain, but it is what is most lacking in the north.

I assigned the engineer to study the feasibility of a hot water network for Wintertown, not for bathing, but something similar to what we have in Winterfell. However, it didn't prosper, not with wooden houses. That is until Marwyn introduced me to another of his companions, a freed slave from Volantis who, thanks to him, studied the Valyrian fortresses and their roads and made a fascinating discovery. While he couldn't imitate the black rock of the Valyrians, he got his own version of Roman cement, and although exporting ash from nearby volcanoes turned out to be a very expensive endeavor, I believe that more durable houses isolated from the cold are worth the investment. For now, I ordered him to start building houses in Wintertown, leaving space for the hot water pipes. Of course, they still won't have the heating system because copper is very expensive, but maybe in the future.

I also have to solve the pumping problem, but I'm sure it's maintained with runes or magic in the castle.

Speaking of the lords, they were really delighted with the plow and the seeder. And although my father had to explain to them why they would need new leather harnesses for the animals, in the end, they were just as impressed. I confess I wanted to give them the technology for free, but my father convinced me it was too revolutionary to give away, so now they pay more taxes to House Stark to use them, and my workshop is the only authorized one to build and sell them.

There's no such thing as patents here, and nothing prevents them from creating their own plows, but no one wants to offend the son of the Lord Paramount who governs them, so my business is secure. My crop rotation method was a success. I wasn't very sure, you know, the seasons are different in Westeros, but I did it.

There was some resistance from the farmers of Winterfell, but I didn't expect anything different. Although the Starks are respected, you can't tell someone to change what they've been doing for thousands of years just because you tell them they'll get better crops.

I asked my father for permission and for a moon I visited the villages of the region to explain the method to them and to compensate them. If they implemented it, I would give 50 silver stags per family for integrating the method into some of their lands. This solved the problem. They must know that a family can earn a maximum of 2 golden dragons per year of work after taxes, so offering them almost a quarter just for trying it in some of their fields is basically free money for them.

The orphanages are going well; we have at least two in each land of the banner-men, with a commitment to pay for meals as well as building construction, while the Lords procure the staff and the land. There are other ventures I won't start, at least not yet; one of them is glass manufacturing, which would attract too many problems with the Myr glassmakers. I still don't have a foolproof method against assassins; well, in fact, I discovered a method, as if it were from the Xena series, the answer was 'a wizard did it'. As for my magic, I finally managed to warg, although I haven't tried it with animals other than dogs. I think being relatives of wolves allows me to make the connection easier. As for the Greenseer and the runes, well, that had nothing to do with me, just like Devouring, which was an unexpected surprise.

Retrospective Scene

One year ago

Winterfell

While the whole family was breaking the fast, my father spoke: '

"Children, today the whole family will go on an excursion, it's an important part of our customs. Join me in the courtyard after putting on something warmer.'

Once in the courtyard, contrary to what I expected, we didn't leave Winterfell. My father took us to the crypts. 'It's time for you to meet your ancestors,' my father said as the guards opened the crypt doors. 'Children, it seems I have never brought you here. This is the resting place of the Starks, by law and custom since Brandon the Builder. All Starks must be buried here, and after eight thousand years, there are quite a few Starks. The crypts are so vast that we don't know their true dimensions."

'Wow, it was true. I always wondered why the crypts didn't fill up, or if in the book Robert had to walk for hours to reach Lyanna's tomb. It turns out the crypts are like a spider web, with several levels. When they run out of space, they make another underground level or open a new passage that can go straight for dozens of meters until it connects with another passage.'

In summer, the crypts are sealed due to floods, but magically in winter, the water disappears.

"You know, children, I was advised to seal the crypts to prevent them from being lost exploring, but now that I think about it, it's almost a family tradition that the Starks get lost exploring. Some say that by getting lost in the crypts, the Starks will find our destiny reflected in our ancestors. Some Starks wander the crypts until we stand in front of an ancestor who recognizes us and guides us out. I don't know how much truth there is to it, I just know that the first time I was wandering for hours until I reached Torrhen Stark's tomb, after reading his epitaph, it was as if my feet guided me out on their own."

"Wow, father, you found your destiny with him!" Brandon said.

"Hahaha, I think so. I thought it meant I had to unite the north and the south, despite what most northerners say, but now I'm not so sure that was the message."

"Today it's your turn" Rickard said as he looked at Brandon and me.

"It's still too early for Lyanna and Benjen, they will enter when the time comes. For now, go children, honor the tradition."

After that, Brandon and I walked through the crypts for hours, seeing the Starks of the past. I was really looking for Edrick Stark, maybe to learn more about him and his adventures.

I don't know when we separated, maybe Brandon found his destiny. I kept going, I don't know how much I walked or how many turns I took. Maybe I should have tied a ball of yarn at the entrance to know how to get back, hahaha.

At that moment, something told me I had reached my destination.

It was a sculpture of a Stark standing with 2 wolves growling beside him, holding what seems to be a morning star in his hand.

I bent down to read his epitaph:

«To my descendants, I wish that the starks find fortune in life and glory in death. I would wish that they live as they please, that they do not bear the burden of ruling, that they forget the honors, the wealth, and simply survive. 

But I cannot do it; we have a duty, the duty that my father bequeathed to me and now I transmit to you. The Starks must survive.'

'To my descendants I leave two mandates: 

That there must always be a Stark in Winterfell, in the north, honor the pact. I am sure that as long as there is a Stark in Winterfell, the barrier will not fall. Second, a Stark has no gods other than the old gods. Do not pray or believe in others, for they are deceitful and temperamental. Do not forget the pact.» 

'Damnation, the tomb of Brandon himself built it all Stark.'

Time passed and suddenly a sensation seized me.

 'It's time to leave, I think.'

How wrong I was. The sensation led me to a thermal lake behind the statue of brandon. 

'Uff, I really must build something to breathe underwater,'

I thought as I plunged to the bottom.

I truly appreciate my enhanced physique. The tunnel was long and dark. If it weren't for the sensation guiding me, I wouldn't know where to go. After a few minutes, I emerged from the water into a cavern.

"Damn, this is impressive."

It was a circular chamber, dimly illuminated by violinscent fungi. In front of me, on the walls, was a battered mural, consisting of nine ruined images, four on each side, surrounding a larger one in the center.

In the first, a person riding to war was shown, a Stark I imagined from his gray eyes, although his hair was as black as night. Behind him, a sea of soldiers.

The next one was broken, burned by fire.

In the third, the same knight, but he did not look valiant, he looked beaten, defeated, imploring to the sky as he returned home.

In the fourth, a renewed knight could be seen marching again, but not to battle, but fleeing, and behind him there were not thousands of soldiers, only a few with nearly twice as many women and children following.

The next one showed the procession dividing; some walked toward castles, others toward mountains, and a smaller group continued crossing mountains and deserts.

The next two images were unrecognizable due to the passage of time.

In the last one, the knight and his people were seen rebuilding their home in a snowy valley.

In the central piece, a man was seen, a Stark by his features, wearing a crown, while countless people knelt before him.

I don't know how long I stared at the mural, but at one point I approached to touch it. Nothing happened until I reached the central piece, and then I had a vision.

"Our roots lie further than people might imagine; our ancestors, like those of every week, were farmers. It is said that we come from a distant land, from a kingdom now extinct. The first Stark was what we now know as the first Greenseer, a soldier of that extinct kingdom who rose to become a respected general. It is said that he fought in the greatest war known to man and survived, returning to his land. But contrary to expectations, he abandoned the honors and rewards. He gathered his people and pleaded for them to abandon those lands. No one knows what he saw or experienced during the war, but he warned the few who chose to listen. He would fight, but not for the kingdom, not for the land, but to survive. He gathered those who believed him and embarked on his journey of escape, leading his people. He crossed kingdoms still at war, he crossed the sea and mountains. Along the way, he found other displaced peoples; some stayed, trusting that the sea would be enough, while others sought refuge in high, walled castles. But he continued to escape, still in search of the promised land. We arrived long ago, and still we seek to survive.

"But what the hell?" I shouted as I backed away, falling backwards.

After a few minutes to compose myself, I approached slowly again, touching the mural, but nothing happened. Just as I was about to swim again, I saw on the ground, covered by rotten wood, a book. I took it, wrapped it as best I could with my shirt, and swam back.

End of the scene.

From that day on, my hair turned intense black, and the color of my gray eyes deepened. And I acquired the abilities of a Greenseer and a warg.

My family said nothing about my changes or the fact that apparently I was lost for two days, but they look at me differently, I can tell. Tomorrow we will leave Winterfell; it will take us at least a year for the journey. I have everything prepared; I have left instructions for both Arwen and Duncan (Daniel) to take care of managing my projects. I know there are still many things to do in Winterfell to strengthen it, but for now, it's time for an adventure.

And so it begins,' I said as I left Winterfell.

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Diary of EDRICK STARK

ENTRY NUMBER 9

The Starks united the North, no more than one kingdom each generation, although it is said that it was a strategy to pacify the conquered kingdoms, the truth goes further. They did not seek the lands; they sought the magic. They married their children to the daughters of the conquered kings, hoping for the next generation to continue this way, through the centuries of conquest. But not all had that privilege; only those from kings with magical blood joined their house. But one thing is certain: after so many centuries, the blood remains strong; the gray eyes and black hair have not yielded to any blood union.

I returned to the North a week ago. It seems that my brother is ready to start a new campaign to take over the swamps. It's still too early; my nephews are too young to honor the tradition, but the war can last for years, so they'll be ready to marry once it's over.

Today I talked with my Yi Ti companion.

Outside the cold, he seems to be enjoying the visit to the north. He realized what the Starks were seeking by uniting the north; he laughed at our quest. He assured we would fail, that what the Starks are doing has already been attempted, but all fail; the last to try were his own people, but magics clash, they do not endure through the centuries.

So, we made a bet, certain we would fail, and I confident that the blood would endure. What he doesn't know is that our magic is made to conquer where others failed, we will endure. Our family magic, the first legacy of the old kingdom, the gift to master other magics and integrate them into our legacy. We don't know its name, but we call it Devour.

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Hello readers.

You know, I have a theory about why some of Ned's children inherited the Tully appearance and not the Stark, as well as why the Stark's hair color is brown.

The former is due to Harrenhal; it is said that the place is cursed, and Catelyn was born there, preventing her from having even a hint of magic in her; hence, the Lord of Light's resurrection turned her into a zombie instead of bringing her back whole like Jon and others. I mention this because there won't be any Stark-Tully in this story.

As for the hair color, it has to do with the amount of magic in the Stark blood after the Dance and with the death of the dragons, magic waned, but now, with everything Ned is discovering, magic is returning to the north.

Finally, I've created a Ko-fi in case anyone wants to buy me a coffee sometime:

https://ko-fi.com/d_vera