It Begins #45

"The attackers were most likely soldiers of a northern house, as it's highly improbable for anyone from the south to send a force this deep into the north unnoticed," Tyrion explained, his words earning a knowing nod from Lord Stark, who had already arrived at a similar conclusion.

"The way I see it, the attack on us was a means to an end, and that end likely concerns House Stark," he continued, prompting a frown from Lord Stark as he considered Tyrion's words.

"Now the question is... why, and what do they hope to accomplish?" Tyrion inquired, trailing off at the end of his sentence. 

Lord Stark's expression held a hint of amusement as he responded, "I have no doubt you'll soon tell me."

Tyrion nodded and carried on. "There are only two obvious reasons. It could be a petty attempt to undermine House Stark by killing their guests and diminishing their authority," he began to explain. 

"Alternatively, it might serve as a distraction... Lord Eddard Stark has many admirers, but I can imagine he has no shortage of enemies to match them." Tyrion went on, his tone growing more certain as he spoke. 

"Many will point their fingers and blame you for this incident, thereby providing the mastermind behind the attack with an opportunity to execute whatever scheme they might be planning," he concluded.

Upon hearing Tyrion's assessment, Lord Stark turned to his son Robb, seeking his opinion. Robb, however, simply shook his head. 

The Stark father-son duo were natural-born warriors, excelling in various forms of combat, be it swinging a blade or leading men into battle. But like most Starks, they lacked an aptitude for political scheming.

"I will take your words into consideration..." Lord Stark stated with a firm nod. Even he could see the merit in Tyrion's argument, though he might have preferred to believe otherwise. 

Nonetheless, his sense of honor prevented him from readily agreeing with Tyrion's assertion.

"Yet, the northern houses are known for their steadfast loyalty. Though, it's not unusual for you to doubt my vessels, given your unfamiliarity with our traditions," Lord Stark solemnly emphasized. "Nevertheless, I will thoroughly investigate the matter. Whoever was behind the attack will face the consequences as northern justice dictates," he concluded, his tone resolute.

Tyrion's brows furrowed at Lord Stark's words. Initially, he considered offering a rebuttal, but he thought better of it, realizing it was not his place to push further. The unmistakable finality in Lord Stark's tone and the stern expression on his face dissuaded any argument.

Turning to Ser Barristan, Tyrion found the knight offering a wry smile, well-versed in the resolute nature of Lord Eddard Stark.

"Well, I believe I speak for all of us when I say we couldn't ask for more," Tyrion responded, stepping back and taking a seat. 

Lord Stark acknowledged his statement with a nod before surveying the hall, finally resting his gaze on Ser Barristan. 

"Now then, it's time to address the reason for your presence here," Lord Stark declared.

...

As Gale and his group approached the edges of the Haunted Forest, relief washed over them. The unforgiving landscape of Always Winter was nearly behind them. However, Gale's joy was tainted by the persistent presence of Melorian, who shadowed him like an ever-present specter.

"For your own benefit, lad, you should consider following me to claim the Lord of Light's relic," Melorian urged, his voice laden with earnestness. Gale, though, chose to continue ignoring him, his frustration growing with each step.

"If you intend to stand against the Night King, you will surely need it," Melorian pressed further, but once again, his words fell on deaf ears.

An exasperated sigh escaped Melorian's lips. 

"Hey! Are you even listening to me?" he exclaimed, causing Gale to halt abruptly. With a quick, fluid motion, he swung his newly acquired iceblade toward the intruder, causing Melorian to jump back in surprise.

Gale's voice was laced with irritation as he spoke, "Will you stop following me already? My head is about to burst!" He shook his head with twitching eyes. "I have no intention of becoming entangled with your god, and I don't think I need his relic, whatever it might be." 

Finally, Gale concluded firmly, leaving no room for discussion. "Dragon Glass will serve just fine for my purposes."

Melorian sighed, running a hand through his matted hair. "I see there's no changing your mind... oh well," he conceded with a shrug. "I only wanted to spare you the effort of another journey through the lands of Always Winter, but suit yourself." His grin returned, displaying his skeletal teeth.

Gale couldn't hide his relief. "Fucking finally," he muttered, letting out a long breath. "Hurry up and be on your way," he added, waving his hand dismissively, much like one would shoo away a pesky stray dog.

Gale remained steadfast in his decision not to follow Melorian any further. He had no inkling of the creature's intentions, nor did he trust the motives of the Lord of Light's followers or their god. 

Whatever relic Melorian spoke of, it wasn't worth the risk. Gale firmly believed that fire, dragon glass, and Valyrian steel were more than sufficient to combat the wights and white walkers, including the Night King himself.

"And here I thought we were finally starting to get along..." Melorian said with a hurt expression, but it was clearly and almost comically fake. "Still, we'll meet again one day. I'm sure of it..." he continued with a chuckle, then turned away and began to walk in the opposite direction.

Melorian's confidence struck a chord of unease in Gale, causing a frown to appear on his face. He had no intention of crossing paths with the mysterious creature again. "I certainly hope not," he scoffed, then turned around and resumed his brisk pace. 

Threya and Tormund exchanged puzzled looks, having observed the strange interaction. However, like Gale, they shared a distrust of Melorian and were eager to leave the desolate lands of the Always Winter, so they silently followed in Gale's footsteps. 

The giant, too, lumbered along in their wake.

...

Meanwhile, in King's Landing, King Robert Baratheon was indulging in his usual vices, drowning himself in alcohol and surrounded by whores in his private quarters. His revelry was intentionally raucous, and he made sure it was loud enough for the Kingsguard standing at the door, Jaime Lannister, his wife's brother, to hear. 

Jaime struggled to maintain a calm expression as he stood watch, unable to even grit his teeth to show his frustration.

However, Jaime's suffering didn't last long, as a bald man dressed in rich purple robes came striding down the hallway. "Make way, Ser Jaime. I have urgent news for the king," the man, Varys the Spider, stated with a sense of urgency. 

Jaime wasted no time moving aside, already weary of the moans and groans emanating from the king's chamber. 

To Varys' credit, he knocked on the door, even with the pressing nature of the situation.

Suddenly, the moans ceased, and King Robert's irate voice echoed from within. "Who the bloody hell is it?! Jaime, you useless bastard! Can't you even guard a door properly!" King Robert exclaimed.

"It's me, Varys, my lord... Lord Arryn has been poisoned, and he has urgently requested your presence," Varys replied, taking the initiative to convey the important message on Jaime's behalf.

"What?! Someone will hang for this!" King Robert exclaimed in a fit of rage. "Hold on, I'll be out in a moment!" He added, quickly pushing the women on his bed aside and scrambling to cover himself. 

After urgently dressing, he moved to the door, flinging it open to find Varys standing there. "What happened? How is Lord Arryn? Who did this?" Robert questioned the spymaster, his face contorted with concern and anger.

"I will explain along the way... please follow me, your grace," Varys said, waiting for Robert to nod before turning around and walking. 

As they proceeded through the corridors, Varys continued, "Lord Arryn suddenly collapsed. We called on Maester Pycelle, who surmised he was poisoned. The maester didn't seem awfully optimistic regarding Lord Arryn's condition, which is why I immediately came to you once he asked for your presence..."

Robert's face grew more serious as he listened. "And who did this? Any idea yet?" he asked.

"As for who did this... I'm not yet certain, but my spies are looking into it. Sooner or later, we'll find the identity of the culprit," Varys assured the king.

...

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