-Jon-
No sound could be heard other than the light clop of feet and of horses hooves on the ground. His Lord Fathers men had uttered only a few words since they had left the metal contraption and the strange men who were its creators had said even less. Jon oft spoke little, and he, as such was used to long stretches of silence. But this was was a silence he wished could be broken. Each thing he had seen the night before had been more wondrous than the last and the man of Grace of the Wind had taken it for granted. Even the beds, the strange metal cots with what had seemed to be hard hay bedding had been...he had no word for what they had been. Only for what they had not been. They had not been hard as hay, nay, they were soft, and laying in them was as if it was made for his body and his body alone. He had lain in them tired from the days ride, and the feast he had eaten, with the words of Commander Jason in his ears.
"If you change mind, you come here." Tangled and muddled as it was, it was intriguing. He wanted to speak more to the man, and yet...He looked back at the man as he jogged, keeping a easy pace with both the horses, and those strange, silent, steel clad carriages. They had been riding from before sunrise, and now the sun was high overhead and soon the mark of noon with its blistering heat would be bearing down upon them.
They stopped to water and feed the horses at small stream after another hours ride. Jon took the moment to approach the Commander, he was eating something. A biscuit wrapped in a silver substance. Commander Jason and all his men were eating one, no they were eating more than one as he approached. He wore the same garb as yesterday, with the same yellow glass before his eyes and the cloth around his neck. The half helm lay next to him.
"Aye, Jon Snow." The large man patted the soft grass beneath his feet. "Sit, sit." Jon obeyed without a word. "I hope our beds were to your liking. It's the best we could do with we had. The printers do a good enough job at making metal and gadgets, but fuck if those beds they spit out aren't shite to sleep on."
Jon had to take a moment to stare. He was speaking common, he was speaking common well. As if he had spoken it all his life. The accent was somewhere between a high born lord, and a lowly commoner, as if the two had been mixed and blended together. He ignored the quip about the bed though. That bed had been by far the best bed Jon had ever slept on, likely the best bed he would ever sleep on.
"You can speak the common tongue better?" He could not hide the wonder in his voice, and the man laughed.
"Aye," He tapped Jon in the temple. "Our beds are more than just beds. They teach and they learn, we had a farmer, an old man of small fold stock, who didn't even know his letters teaching us to speak. One old farmer. Then you came, fifteen of you, three highborn. When you slept Jon snow we learned you're tongue." The Commander tapped him in the temple again. "Right from your dreams."
Jon had no words to say. He felt, he did not know how he felt. Most nights he could not remember his dreams, and yet the notion that someone, anyone was spying on them, prying into his mind without his knowledge. It unsettled him. He jumped when a great palm landed on his back.
"Don't worry, we can't read your thoughts." Jason said, as if doing that very same thing. "And it's not magic." He got close and whispered into Jon's ears. "Just very fancy machines." He laughed, and pulled another one of the biscuits out of the pack all of them carried on their backs. He tossed it to Jon.
It was covered in a strange silver substance. He peered at it, turning it in his hands. He couldn't read the words, but despite its small size it seemed dense. "You open it like this." Commander Jason called. His fingers grabbed on one size, snapped it left and right in his palms then splayed it open, then ripped it open with his nails. He saw steam rise from the biscuit. Hot as if just pulled from the over. Jon stared at it, in parts surprised.
"Eat it." the man called. "It won't bite back. Might not taste as good as it looks though." He took a bite of it, and soft sweetness and the taste of strawberries flooded his mouth. It was good, as good as anything he'd ever eaten in Winterfell.
"It's good." He proclaimed, and started to swallow more of it. The man nodded. He felt full as he finished one, and watched as the man pulled another of the biscuits from his pack and swallowed it down. "It's barely passable as food. Tastes like shite on my tongue."
"But it should keep you full for a day or two." The commander said as he put down another two before he stood letting out a great groan. His bones sounded like wood splintering under too much stress as it popped and cracked. He passed a silver sealed container to Jon and Jon drank it down. It tasted sweet, and like oranges. Despite riding in warm weather all day, the drink was still cold, as if pulled from the depths of Winterfell's wine cellars just moments ago. "And that should give you enough energy to last the rest of the day."
He made to pass to the container back, but the man waved him off. "Keep the thermos" He gruffed. So that was the name of the strange silver container. Thermos. "One less thing weighing me down, it'll keep your drinks cold or hot depending on what you put in there for a day or so." Jon stared and nodded.
He opened his mouth to speak but found himself lacking the words. "I have been thinking, about what you said last night."
"Have you?" Commander Jason said. His voice was a deep rumble in his chest. "And what have you been thinking about, Jon Snow?"
"What would I be doing, if I were to become...become..." The man had said the word yesterday, he thought as hard as he could about the proper word. "If I were to become a marine." That was the proper word. "What exactly would I be doing?"
"Protecting people. Our people at least." He stated. He had placed the half held back upon his head. "Protecting the roads, our lands, and doing missions that are seen as necessary by the captain. If there is war, we march to war. The Marines is not about doing, it is about skill. Discipline. Order." He bent down and picked up his strange weapon. "It is about family, when you join the Marines you're a brother." He had it in his hands, and the strap for it around his shoulders.
"We move out in five." A soft voice called. He turned to see the dark skinned maid walking towards them. Her black armor, for what else could her clothing be with those strange pads, reflected no light. The woman strode with a confidence of self and grace that seemed almost unnatural. He watched Commander Jason snap into a formal stance as she spoke, his back was straight, his eyes had hardened and his hand slapping hard against his half helm. He looked around and all the men had done the same.
"At ease." Her voice was sultry, a mix between a bell and a low growl a dog, or perhaps wolf would release. The men relaxed and she eyed each of. She had slate grey eyes, like a storm approaching and casting the clear blue of sunny day away. "Commander Jason, how are you?"
"Chief Officer, Mam." Jon had never heard that word before. Commander Jason continued to speak in common tongue, and for that Jon was grateful. "I am well, I was simply having a conversation with Lord Eddard's son. He seemed interested in what we do as Marines."
"Was he, well?" She turned and eyed him. She stood taller than him, most of these strange people did. Yet her height was not so great, she stood at just about six feet, with Commander Jason just barely taller than her. Still, seated she seemed to tower over him, and her grey eyes seemed to burn their way into his soul. She quirked a thin eyebrow, and then smiled. Her perfectly straight all too white teeth gleamed against her dark skin, and pink gums. She said nothing turning rather to her men. For they were her men. Watching them he saw they did not fear her, rather they respected her.
"I'm sure you will tell him all about the Marines." Storm cloud eyes were scanning looking for something. "Be sure to leave nothing behind." Her voice called out again. "Just because we're planet side, does not mean sanitary," more words Jon realized he didn't know. Words in their tongue to describe things they could not with his. He focused back on what she was saying. In his thoughts, he had lost some part of the conversation.
"Be sure to leave nothing behind. Those wrappers can be recycled." Another word he didn't understand. Though by context, he garnered the word for the silver substance wrappers.
"Of course mam." She walked off, and as commander Jason spoke. Jon watched her leave, his eyes indecently following her form. "God," the commander whispered after she was some feet distant from them. She was speaking to the other leaders of her group. "God." He seemed stunned into silence, and Jon could see a want of her in his eyes.
He agreed with the Commander. "She is comely." He stopped and stared back at her. "A woman leads you?" The idea of it was strange to him. A woman leading a troupe of men. A woman being a warrior. He would have laughed, but the deference they had given her stayed him.
"Aye. I told you yesterday. We do not care for a man birth. Only what he can do. We do not care for a woman's ethers. Do not see the Chief Officer as just a woman. Do not see any woman amongst our people as just a woman." He pointed to his leaders, his eyes distant. "Without a doubt, do not see them as just women. The Chief Officer could kill your father, your brother, and all his men with her bare hands. She is not just a woman. She is a Daughter of Sol."The words had flowed in his native tongue.
As if realizing his mistake, he corrected himself. "A Daughter of the Sol. Of the sun." The Commander looked around himself, and started to pick up the remnants of his meal. Stuffing the silver wrapper back into the pack.
"What does that mean?" Jon said. "To be a Daughter of Sol?" The captain looked around him, picked up Jon's own silver wrapper and placed it back into his own pack, the man was smiling. He had tried to say the word in the man's tongue and had butchered the phrase. It sounded naught at all like the smooth, almost poetic phrase the man himself had said.
"It means she is deadly. A warrior of unmatched prowess. She could kill me, and you, and everyone named not Director Tyliai, or Captain Vasquez and come away mostly fine. She is death. We were made to be soldiers. She was made to kill and lead men." He left it at that and finished picking up the last of the silver things.
"Surely she is not so deadly. The large one, the giant you call Tyliai, and your captain. I could see. Maybe even the fair Lady Mari. I cannot see a maiden being so." The commander seemed as if argue, then shook his head. Jon feared he had offended the man, but he smiled a small smile at John and spoke.
"You should head back to your horse, we still a few more hours yet before we reach your home."
Jon nodded and did so. But as they rode, he could not help but to turn his eyes back to glance at the dark skinned beauty. She rode atop one of the horseless carriages, her eyes cast at the sky and she crossed over themselves. She seemed at peace. Then, suddenly her head whipped in his direction. Storm cloud eyes stared at him from the recessed depths of a dark face. He felt as if she was seeing into his soul, judging him once more and suddenly he understood what Commander Jason had meant. He felt a chill run down his spine, and he turned away.
-Tyliai-
The open space, the vastness of it made his skin crawl. It was too open, too unending in its emptiness. For a man who had spent the first twenty years of his life in the tight confines, the only saving grace, the only peace he felt at this place at any open place, was the cold. The sweet kiss of the biting air, the chilled winds that rustled its way across his unfeeling skin, the scent of grass and horses and life. Those he focused on, rather than the crushing openness, which reminded him of the black.
He walked, his great legs allowing him to keep pace of the horses and the transport rover. Yet though he walked, he kept the steel headphone clamped firmly on his head and half a mind buried in A.R. The thrum of a low beat was all he hear as his eyes flickered about. Mapping this place, taking note of landmark and things of interest. Places where radio towers would have to go up, places where they could run cable and pipes and lay roads down with the greatest ease. Vast plains that would do well as cropland, or grazing land for gen-enged animals.
He wanted to run, to leap on his massive legs and run free. To run back to the nice enclosing space of the Grace of The Wind. But Dem had said he should follow and avoid showing off his capabilities, and while the marines were fast he was so much faster. He had been made to be so much, to be so much stronger, so much smarter. So had Dem, but Dem wasn't a monster. Instead of leaping though, he followed the horses of Lord Eddard Stark with his steady massive gait, occasionally take one giant smooth lope to keep pace.
They had been riding since noon, and the pace was starting to get to him. He wasn't used to long periods of hard exercise, he wasn't built for it. But, he thought, he was doing well as it was. The sun was marching its way further, and further into the horizon. His world was limited in color, Grey and white, blue and ivory and purple. A million shades of blue and thousands of shades of red. Burnt umber and blue white marched down, and the world was shifting from bright blue white into a miasma of purple and red. He saw not in the visible spectrum, but in ultraviolet and infrared. He stopped for a moment to watch a sunset for the first time on a living, life giving world. The others kept walking past, and so he moved just slightly out of the way. He watched the sun set, and the static homology of his vision shift of its own accord. It was a rainbow of reds, purples and blues, streaked with whites and finally a lack of all color, a blackness where his mind could not process x-rays racing across the sky.
"Are you well?" He turned to the voice. It was Lord Eddard's offspring, the boy-man that he had heard called Rob. He seemed concerned, worry marked his face and Ty had to stop the half laugh from coming from his throat. Instead he rolled his fingers, twisting his extra thumb over his pinky in a measure of concentration and focus.
"Aye, little Lord." Titles, titles, titles. He thought. He was in a world of titles. He had never had titles, never had a name until Dem had found him, and saved him. "I'm fine. Just watching the sunset. I've never seen one in person till now, it's beautiful." It almost made the vastness of open space worth it.
"Watching... the sunset?" The question lay beneath his words, and Ty laughed. The boy meant no harm, and to the boy he must seem an oddity. An Invalid. All be saw was stumbling blind giant.
"I can see, little Lord. Just because my eyes are clouded, does not mean I am blind. Why at night, I can see far better than any man." That was the truth, it was easy to see at night when the heat of men's bodies burned with their own light. They were falling behind and he could see the piercing gaze of Bheke on his form. The woman was kindly for the most part, almost matronly, but when her anger struck it could be a fierce thing. The sun had fallen, and Winterfell was in visible range. They would be there soon.
"Let's return, back to the troupe." He was about to take off when he heard the young man call out. "Wait, Lord Tyliai." He stopped and turned to the boy. He was a lord now? He almost laughed. Dem was a lord, he was proud, and confident and knew men like he knew himself. Still though he paused.
"Yes, little Lord?" The boy-man bristled, his eyes staring but then he looked away. One of the few gifts of clouded foggy eyes were the fact that the number of people who could gaze were few and far between. "Well? We can't stand here all day. We need to keep pace with the troupe."
"The Lady Catarina..." He paused and turned to eye the Medical Division Head. "How is she in relation to Lord Vasquez? The Lady McLaren looks much like him, yet does not carry his name."
"Aye, the Lady Catarina..." He stopped to think. How to explain the firebrand of a woman. The boy was far too young for her to be interested in him, and had his youth not been concerned, likely far too dim to draw her interest. "No, she and," he had will the smile from his face as he said the words "she and Lord Vasquez are not courting. Nor is he and the Lady McLaren as such involved. The Lady Catarina is much more than she seems. She is the most skilled healer amongst our people, and now that we are here, on your world." He stopped and looked back at the boy-man. The child seemed more interested in the fact that Caterina was not in a relationship than her status as the greatest healer now in the world. He continued on regardless. "Her knowledge is vast, and as such Demetrius has deemed it fit to have come along, such that we can see what diseases afflict you people."
The world had turned all black in his vision, and people were red-blue wraiths. Ghost images with their cores beating flush before his eyes. A notification appeared in his lower left vision, and he rolled his tongue over his front teeth. A message from Bheke. He read it and sighed. She was angry, and he would either start moving now and get back in line or face her wrath later.
"Little Lord, it is time that we go." He was moving again, running. The troupe had managed to get some distance ahead of him, and rob shot by on horse racing to catch up, to be first to enter the halls of Winterfell. He lopped along with the boy, catching up to his horse, then speeding past. Long strides and great massive legs powering him forward, making him move and faster.
Suddenly he was where he had been before, in between the transport rovers and Lord Eddard's riders. He stopped, and could feel eyes bearing down upon him. Bheke had a tight frown on her lips, though from the small smile Dem held he doubted he would get in trouble for such a display.
As they moved slowly towards Winterfell he couldn't help but cast his eyes skyward. The night sky was a rich black, an echo of the radiation of creation, but it was pin pricked by bright white, and deep, deep red. He looked at Catarina, behind her the boy-man rode. His eyes firmly fixed on her form. He laughed, his bell like voice ringing as he did so.
-Catelyn-
The out rider had come as evening had settled over Winterfell, before the sup. Auster Rane one of Ned's men had come riding hard, his horse near death beneath him and the great breathing deep gulping breaths. The man had come riding south, towards the north gate, screaming to speak to her. She had met him at the north gate, the sun overhead lighting Winterfell in colors of umber and red and gold. He was a tall man, pale and lean and hard like most of northern with a wiry beard that gave the man a youthful look despite his some odd twenty and eight years.
"M'Lady." His gruff voice had said. "Lord Eddard bade me ride with haste to you. He brings guests back from the hunt. He wishes to give them guest rights, a feast to commemorate them. He bids you pardon him for the haste, M'Lady." He had heaved the words out through great breaths.
"Guests?" What guests could he have met on a hunt? Even in the North no Lord of any house she knew would be so uncouth as to approach Winterfell in full party unannounced. Rarely did Ned indulge in even something as simple as a hunt. He found it ostentatious. In all the years they had been wed, he had gone on the hunt naught but four, may haps five times. She found herself in parts angered that someone, anyone would impose themselves upon him in one of the few moments that he took for leisure.
"Aye M'Lady." She had looked past him then, towards the falling sun. A few hours to have a feast going.
"Tell me Auster, how long before Lord Eddard arrives with these guests of his? How many men am I to be making a feast for. We can hold no great host of men without the proper time to prepare." His great heaths for breath seemed to have slowed.
"The men who rode with him to go on the hunt M'Lady, and some twenty men otherwise. He bid it be a large feast, as large as can managed in the time, for they are large men." Auster replied. She looked at the man, and had to stifle the sigh that had almost crept from her lips.
Twenty men was not so large a host. They could do it, delay the sup and cook more meals. Gage the cook, and several of the serving women would have to be called upon. It was not too great a task for twenty men, but their stores. No, she would worry over such at a later time.
It was at sunset that the banner men made call. They had spotted her Husband approaching, and so Catelyn had gathered her family to meet Ned and their guests. The sun had fallen by the time she gotten the children dressed to meet their guests. The sounds of approaching horses alerted her that Ned was close, and after a few moment she saw him at the head of the approaching troupe of men.
Then she saw them. Steel clad carriages that shone and reflected the moonlight like a well-honed blade. They rode on strange wide wheels, as black as night and strangely shaped. Two of the carriages hauled wagons behind them, also made of steel open to the sky with numerous crates and boxes stacked atop one another. She stared at them, surprise and worry marring her face.
"Mother." It had been Arya who had spoken. "Mother, those carriages are not hauled by any horses." She had not even realized it. For they were not, her mind had been on the strangeness of the things, their award squat shapes, but now. No horses pulled them, there seemed to be reigns, no way in which to have any horses pull them. They moved upon the earth of their own silent power. Making no noise, just a constant march forward.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity Ned approached. He towered over her astride his horse, and his dark hair and long face seeming longer. Grey eyes peered down at her, and she bowed. "My Lord."
He swung his great form from his horse. Landing on the ground without a sound. "My Lady." He embraced her in a hug, a strange show of affection from her husband in public. Then she felt his whisper in her ear. "All will be explained shortly, Cat."
He let her go and stood back. The Horseless carriages had arrived. They were larger than she had imagined. Standing on wheels that made them ride higher than any horse, and now that they were close she could see they were not clad in steel. But made of it, entirely crafted of steel, workmanship she had never imagined. For it took strange shapes. The carriage door swung open, and light flooded from its ramparts. Bright, clear white light as if daylight captured, and a man stared out.
He stepped from the strange carriage in one smooth movement. He towered over her, and Ned, and every other man she had ever met. He was broad, as thick as a tree in the chest with arms and legs to match. His face was handsome, for he was square of jaw, and gold of eyes. His skin seemed like bronze in the firelight and his hair, what she could see of it was dark and curled around his face.
He wore clothes of strange cut, as dark as night that reflected no light. It was formal, almost simple in its cut. Yet the fabric was of exotic make, for she knew no such clothing that seemed to steal light from around it. He wore a gold pin on the collar of his garment, in the shape of some strange arrowhead. On his shoulders were stranger works of meal. It seemed sewed into his clothes, strange orbs gold and bronze and steel intricately crafted. Then he spoke.
"My Lady Stark. It is a pleasure to meet you." His voice was a low rumble, like thunder in the distance. "I must say, Lord Stark was unfair to you in his praises, for you are far more beautiful than he alluded to." A sweet tongue.
Ned spoke then. "I would like to introduce you My Lady, to Lord Demetrius Vasquez. A stranger to our lands. It was his craft that we saw fall those few fortnight ago."
He bowed to her, a smile playing on his lips. His teeth were perfectly straight and startling white. "It is a pleasure to meet you." That low rumble said again. "I hope you will not take offense if I introduce thee to my fellows? They are men of rank amongst my people." The friendly smile remained plastered on his face as he spoke. She eyed her husband confusion on her face. What, exactly was going on. A star had fallen, more than a month before, was he saying? What was he saying? That these men had fallen with the star? Or that they were the star that had fallen?
"I would be pleased, if you allowed me to introduce my children as well." She spoke in response.
"It would be a pleasure." The giant spoke in response. As if on command a group of three women stepped from the carriages. All were tall; giantesses to match this giant's own height. Yet despite that she could see all were fair of beauty. Two wore garments made of the same strange grey cloth, with each having a belt over the dresses, and strange things, for she had no name for what they were, at their sides. The third wore garments, if you could call any clothing with such an indecent cut garments, of the darker blacker fabric. Light rippled over it, and strange pads covered its arms, its chest and belly.
"The lady Mari McLaren." He pointed to the tallest of the giantesses. She stood at seven feet, taller than even Ned. Yet she was comely, with a oval face, golden eyes much like the man who spoke, and hair cut in a tight halo around her face. Her hair curled in a fashion she had never seen before. He pointed to the second woman next.
"The lady Catarina Courtai." She was another comely maid. For she was a maid. Despite her height, almost six feet, she looked no older than seven and ten. The maids hair was a brighter red than her own, yet flowed no longer than shoulders. She was pale as milk, with bright green eyes that seemed as if a verdant field. Her lips were plush and pink, and her figure was ample.
"And finally, my second in command, the lovely Lady Bheke." It was the dark skinned man, with the clothes that hung tight to her form indecently. She stood at six feet, with skin so dark it seemed as if she would disappear in the night if not for the lanterns. Her hair was cut close to the scalp, but her femininity could not be questioned. Her breasts was ample, and her figure more so. Her lips were flush, and those slate grey eyes seemed to bore in Catelyn's own soul. She could not hold the dark woman's gaze and looked away.
Lord Vasquez looked about, as if confused. He frowned. Then sighed. "Tyliai please, come greet the Lady Stark."
"Aye," A child like voice called out. She was surprised, these people seemed strange, and as such she had not considered that they had brought children along with them. What moved from the shows behind the steel carriage was no child. It was not a man, for she knew no men who could grow so large. He stood between eight and nine feet tall, as pale as milk. He held a great beard, a massive flowing thing that reached down to his oxen like chest. Then the true giant, for now she understood what it felt like to be as a small child, spoke.
"My Lady Stark." His voice was soft, childlike and gentle despite his great massive hulk. "It is my pleasure to meet you. Both your Husband and Son have spoken well of you in the short times we've had acquaintance." She looked at the massive man, and nodded. She finally understood why her husband had insisted on a large despite a small host.
"It is, it is a pleasure to meet all of you." Her voice shook for the first few words of the sentence, and she had to repeat herself to regain her calm. "These are my children." She pointed to each one as she called. "Sansa, Arya, Bran, and my youngest Rickon." The last was fast asleep held in his nursemaid's arms.
Ned nodded. Then he spoke up. "My Lady Wife has had a meal prepared for us. I would invite you to eat with me this night, much as you hosted my men last night." The confusion Catelyn felt grew.
"It would be a pleasure lord Eddard. Please lead the way." Catelyn followed behind wordlessly. The walked through Winterfell. Passing from the North Gate, through the streets. They moved passed the guard halls, and the great keep. Past the training courtyard and finally they were before the great dining halls of Winterfell. She turned and frowned. Those horseless carriages had followed without a sound, moving at a snail's pace unbothered by the mud and muck that oft trapped other carriages and carts that thought to travel through Winterfell.
The man, the leader called Lord Vasquez pulled her husband to the side and had soft quick words with him. Ned nodded, and the man walked away. He moved back to him men and had more words. He spoke loudly, but the tongue he spoke in was strange to her. It twisted and mangled and followed no pattern. It seemed almost a bird song. He returned back to her lord husband, Ned Pointed to the great keep astride the Great Hall. Strange men flowed from the horseless carriages. Thirteen in all and along with Ned's own rides began to unpack the crates, chests and boxes. One man brought a box towards them, and lay it on the ground.
She would have said something about the impropriety of the whole affair, yet she did not. The box was made of a material she'd never seen before. Not metal, and not wood either. He opened the box, and pulled a series of strange glass cubes. He removed four in total each the size of a man's hands. He had more words with her husband, and her Husband nodded his accent. The man rushed into great hall, and Catelyn's eyes watched him go.
"I bid we wait a few moments my lady. What you shall see when you enter shall be surprising. These people seem full of surprises." She waited, and the man returned nodding to her lord husband, and then he turned to his own lord. Ned spoke up. "It is ready, my lady lets enter."
It was daylight in the great halls, yet no lanterns burned. She turned and stared, trying to find the source of the light. It was the glass cubes, one was in each corner of the great hall and they cast their light about the entirety of the room. She found looking at one to be unbearable. Even during the day, with the great lanterns filled with oil and burning she had never seen the hall so bright.
"Magic!" Bran cried. She turned to her son, and saw that his eyes were wide with wonderment. She looked at her Lord Husband and he seemed unaffected So too did the bastard, and Rob, He walked up to one of the glass tubes, the one closest to the entrance of the great hall, serving women stood around agasp in surprise. She moved to deny it then closed her mouth, she had no answer for how such a thing was possible. Catelyn turned to her lord husband. He shook his head, and she knew he had no answer either.
"The lamps capture sunlight, and store it for later use." The voice that spoke was like velvet. Sweet and musical like a bird song. She turned to the source. It was the giantess of a woman, The Lady McLaren. She continued in her quite soft speak, bird song voice. "It is not magic, just a very intricate machine."
The words were spoken with a soft confidence, an assurance of self, Catelyn accepted the answer. She looked back at the lights, wonderment still in her eyes. Yet a new question was on her mind, how did they manage to capture the sunlight? She ignored it, and instead returned to her courtesies.
"Please My Lords, let's sit and eat." And so they did. The serving women brought forth suckling pig roasted over a fire. Meat pies still hot from the oven. Chickens seasoned with salt and rice. Pigeons, and pigeon pie, and wine. Wine aplenty. The strangers sat about the table, and she with her lord husband and their children besides. Their own guardsmen, also strangely garbed sat further down. She let them sit, and eat for time. They ate, quietly, made sounds of delight and praised the, though she had feeling it was perfunctory more than anything else.
She turned her eyes to their guardsmen. They too were tall, all men standing between six and seven feet. They had taken their half helmet off, and she could see though they differed in shade they were all young, and all handsome of face. All of their hair was cut into a tight crop close to their heads, much like the dark skinned woman, the Lady Bheke. Those men ate, and ate. Occasionally they took drinks from silver containers, or bites from strakes biscuits. They jested and joked in their native language. A strange tongue that followed no pattern of any language she knew, musical and lilting. One seemingly made a joke, and all the men laughed. Some men slapped him on the back, and it sounded like leather striking leather.
She turned back to the Lords before here. The leader, Lord Vasquez had a smile on his face, though by the looks the women held the joke had not been one for common company. While she had been busy they had finished eating. Serving women brought about wine, and she took a sip. The strangers declined, instead pulling the same silver containers from a bag provided by one of their men. She raised an eyebrow, and Lord Vasquez responded to her unasked question.
"We mean no insult by turning down your wine my Lady Stark. Alcohol does not suit us well. We or not oft to get in our cups, and without that lure the flavor of wine and its fellows are not so great." She nodded. He reached into the pack and pulled another container, this one also made of a strange substance. He opened it, and slide some her and her children's way. She looked at them. It ranged from dark brown, to black. They were in a range of shapes, circles and squares, some shaped in hearts each lay on a piece of folded paper.
"Sweets from my home, they are often eaten after a good meal. They are, as far as I know, some of the last ones in this world." He took one and handed it to her and her children. Then he handed one to Eddard and his own people. They were smiling in anticipation, and stared at it. "My people call it chocolate," he stated. He popped the entirety of it in his mouth, then the paper as well. "These are quite a delicacy amongst my people. It only grows in a few places, and the rules for growing it are strict. As such it runs for a high price. Both the candy and the paper are edible. They are quite sweet."
She stared at them, unsure what to do. She heard Sansa's cry of surprise, and turned to her eldest daughter. "It's good mother." The girl said. "Really good." Arya said in kind. She took the dark square in her mouth first. It melted in her mouth, and sweet poured over her tongue. It was good, a flavor she had never tasted before, dark and rich. She chewed and swallowed. Then slid the piece of paper into her mouth too. It was thin, and melted on her tongue. It tasted of mint.
"It is good." She stated. It was an understatement, it was very good, delicious, the ghost of its rich flavor had not yet left her mouth, and still she yearned for more. She looked back at them, her interest growing. Strange men, with strange accents, and strange tongues. The man, Lord Vasquez, had retrieved another box from the sack that his guardsmen had brought them, and slide it towards her.
"I am pleased you enjoyed it. I hope you will enjoy these." She moved to deny the gift, but he smiled and pushed it towards her before she could reject. "I must confess my Lady, I am more than fond of them and bought plenty before we left for this journey. It will some time before my people will be able to make more, you see, and in preparation I bought more than I can eat, I fear." He smiled while he spoke, and she nodded. Catelyn eyed his fellows to see if he was perhaps deceiving her, but they seemed as surprised as she felt. Those chocolates, she turned the word over in her head, those chocolates were worth a considerable amount amongst his people. Would she cause offense by turning it down? She took it.
"I thank you." She held the box in her hand. Looked at the man, and smiled. She would bridge the conversation now. She many questions, and despite the feasting of his men, he and his fellows were not indulging. Catelyn noted that his men also did not drink, but they flirted with the serving women, and why not? They were handsome men, tall, and well-muscled.
Catelyn turned her thoughts from Lord Vasquez's men to the man himself. His was young, he looked no older than twenty and two. "Tell me Lord Vasquez, how is it your people arrived in the north."
"Do you remember my lady? I believe it would have been a month and some odd days ago." She nodded. "Lord Eddard tells me you stood outside to watch a star fall at dusk at that time. That was our ship my lady. My people sail the night's skies from world to world." He reached into the pack and pulled a cube, a thing of intricately carved glass. Gold was inlaid into the glass, set within it strange forked gold branches weaved in and out. A steel core was its base, and the gold and glass weaved in and out of it. A tree of steel and gold within a cube of glass It was a beautiful work of craftsmanship, something that would have been worth dozens of silver stags of its own accord.
Then a light appeared above it, bright blue that shifted, and twisted before forming into the image of a bright blue world, it was a map splayed along a world to give the impression of a world. Next to it was another world map, slightly larger the strange one with familiar shapes and continents. She saw The Wall, and The Neck, Fingers and Three Sisters. She saw across the Narrow Sea to the distant lands beyond. She saw other lands, further south then she knew lush and green, the Shadow Lands of Ashia.
"Magic. You're sorcerers!" Arya cried in excitement. Cat had to stop, to pause and rally her thoughts lest her mouth betray. She turned to Eddard, he seemed unbothered by the show, and the smile that lay behind his eyes told that he had expected this response. The Lady McLaren spoke up once more.
"Not sorcery my Lady, a very intricate machine. One that takes great skill to design and make." Her voice was soft and kind, and she smiled at Arya. Catelyn stared at the woman, a question playing on her mind.
"And how does the machine work?" Catelyn asked. Her blue eyes stared waiting for an answer. The woman was important, not just an ornament for one or both of the two massive men that she followed.
The woman paused as if to gather her thoughts, then she spoke. "I apologize, Lady stark, for your tongue has no words for what I am about to describe. I will do my best regardless." Before the woman could speak again, their leader interrupted.
"Later, Mari. Later." The woman seemed about to continue, despite his wishes, yet a quick glance from him and she remained silence. Her face showed no emotion, yet her golden eyes burned with anger and rage. "My Lady," he continued. "The world you see upon your left is your own world, I believe it is called Planetos. Our own world is called Earth, It is the world you see upon your left." The other world was blue, and vast, great stretches of ocean pitted with islands and lands that stretched over its surface. Strangely shaped, most was green, green, green and lush with life. The world turned dark, both worlds. But where her own was night, a billion bright pinpricks spouted in that other place.
"Our people were industrious, and populous and we found ourselves reaching further, and further for the stars, for more space in which to live." Both worlds disappeared and she saw a city, like none she had ever seen. Great towers that scraped against the sky made of glass and steel. Jutting fortresses made of stone, squat and flat and dug into the ground. Great round domes standing upon the sea. Then it leaped out, as if suddenly a great distance away. A steel tower lattice and jutting like the skeleton of man, next to it a great spear of steel stood up to the sky. There were words she could not understand, and then... fire leapt from its belly and zoomed skyward; up, and up, and up it went. It reached past the sky, into a deep black where stars shone like brilliant beads in the sunlight.
"So we went to the heavens, and built our homes there." A third world appeared next to the first too, red and dusky, a plain of all desert, dead and terrible, yet despite this, domes of green spotted the landscape. A dead plain of ash, and grey rock as if scorched of life marked a fourth. And more worlds appeared, icy worlds, cracked and jagged; great mountains floating in that inky black nothingness, spotted with signs of men and buildings. "When we left our home fifty million, million souls encompassed the entirety of our world, and still we longed for more space."
Catelyn saw steel contraptions, shaped like spearheads, drifting through the nights like boats at sea. But where boats used sails to move, these things used fires, and light. They spat from their teals and moved about the black. She saw many, some moved across the great rocks, some above a world of swirling orange clouds made of reds, and oranges. A sky rusting like an unkempt blade. "So we headed out into the true black." Wonders. She was seeing wonders.
"We never meant to come to this world Lady Stark." The man continued. What she saw changed again, a great ship, for she saw now they were ships, of another make, for another purpose but ships none the less. Ships that sailed the night skies, adrift sails afire. The great ship, solid and flat and grey, a mountain made of steel drifting through the night flew. The stars skipped by in a blur as if one was on horseback at full gallop. It flew, and then one of its engines flared, and it waned. Fire licked up and down its back. Its speed lessened, and finally slowed. It crawled through the night, and finally after what seemed an eternity came to a standstill, drifting lower and lower towards a green, verdant world. Towards Planetos. "Our ship broke mid-flight, and we were forced to land. We have no means to return to the skies, the ship is too damaged, and you have not the resources to allow us to repair her, or return her to the night. We asked leave of your Lord Husband to stay within his lands, and he agreed. For that we thank him, and for that we thank you and the entirety of the stark household." The man finished with a smile on his lips, and an earnest openness to his face that she found unarming. She gathered her thoughts, stared at the great beast of a man and the strange device upon the great halls tables.
"You are Star-Men." The word was strange. But then the idea that dragons would aide in the conquest of a kingdom was also strange. Star-Men fallen to the north. She looked down at the box of strange sweets in her hand; at the strange cube of glass that poured light and moving paintings more lifelike that she had ever imagine possible. She opened it, and placed another piece of sweet candy in her mouth. She ate it, and then smiled.
"We assure you my lady, we come in peace, and mean no ill will towards your people.
"Lord Vasquez, it is my pleasure to welcome you and rest of the Star-Men to the north." He smiled another perfect smile. There was raucous laughter, she turned to the left and saw that the Star-Men's soldiers were laughing. She smiled, men from the stars, but men none the less.
-Eddard-
He heaved the great weight of himself off of Catelyn, and let out a great sigh. He lay atop the covers, trying to rid himself of the heat of their copulation. It had been fierce, their love making. A thing of fear, and excitement, and pleasure. Carnal desires base and dear, that he rarely left himself fall into. Tonight though was special, and as such he had let himself fall. They had rutted for hours and now the distant calls of bird songs could be heard, and soon sun would make its way to its proper place in the sky. Today would be tiring. He stood, firm and tall, feeling as much a man as he would ever feel without a blade in his hands.
"Ned." Catelyn sighed as she felt him leave their feather bed. "Ned, tell me about last night." He sighed and leaned back into the warmth. There was no great hearth lit tonight, there was no need for it. One of the flameless lamps the Star-Men had given him acted as light for tonight.
"Their leader is an honest man." He paused. "They could have come as conquerors as the Targaryen's did with their dragons."
"They can't be as dangerous as that. I saw no great weapons..." But she stopped mid speech. Ned had seen those greet flames leaping from the belly of those massive spearheads. Flames that had pushed a tower of steel into the stars. If such a device were turned against an army of men. Aegon the conqueror had used his dragons to make all kings of the seven kingdoms bend the knee. Would the flames from that thing be as hot as dragon-fire?
"You did not see all that there was to see my lady. There were things he did not show, either for your sensibilities, or because he wished to show his people in an honorable light. But he showed me after we spoke the night before. They brought no great weapons with them, but that means little. They have mighty weapons. Devices that can set entire cities ablaze in a pillar of fire and leave the land barren for a hundred generations. Weapons that make a man's armor as useless as a cloth blouse. They could, if they wished to, capture the seven kingdom with ease."
"Surely?"
He frowned and paused to take a deep breath. "We spoke for some time Cat. Their ship..." He paused again. "Their ship is a wonder, their moving images do little justice to show it as such. They could if they wished. But they did not, and for that we should be thankful. They treated with us fairly, and only wish the same be done to them."
"And for what price did they pay for this privilege?" She asked.
Ned stared, and waited a moment. "One hundred thousand gold dragon for a lease of one hundred years, with a tax of two gold dragons for every hundred to make in profit. In exchange they get the area ten miles to the north and south of their landing spot, and fifteen miles to the east and west. They landed Wolfs Woods, on the very border and it and the flat plains twixt here and the wolfs wood."
She was quite in astonishment. "One hundred gold dragons?" He understood her wonder thought. One hundred thousand gold dragons was more than house stark had made in all the long years of their marriage. It was more than most houses made in the entire lifetimes of their lordly rulers.
"Aye my lady, it's worth in gold, and books and gemstones, and gifts. They felt the land was worth far more than it appeared, and paid me as they sought fit." She was quiet for a moment.
"But still, Ned. Those fields will do poor for cropland, the wolfs wood will be poor hunting grounds this time of year; no gold or silver lays in the hills to the north of the Wolfs Wood either. And they found its value at a hundred thousand gold dragons?"
"Aye, they did, and would not take a copper penny less. They dealt fairly, and as such i believe their leader to be an honorable man, some men would claim no knowledge, and pay less. He knew its value to his people, and paid it, and more in spades." He looked out and watched as the sun rose in the morning. It had not yet risen its way past the land, but already its distant heat could be felt.
He heard shouting, and went to the window. Roosters crowed and men were starting to leave their quarters and fill the castle with life, but none were as loud as tall dark woman. They sat in the courtyards, all fifteen of Sky Peoples guardsmen. Their strange arms laid in front of them, and she walked in front of them yelling in demanding tones. They responded in court sharp replies. The dark woman shouted at one man, and Eddard watched as he stood and faced her. He withdrew a knife and dashed at her. She dropped, or leaned, or slid, he was not sure what word to use for the movement for her body seemed simply move out of the blades way. Her leg slid up and lashed him in the face. A round kick that seemed powered from the hips.
The man dropped, dead or unconscious. She frowned, and started yelling again. The men stood, grabbed their packs and arms and slid in a straight line. She yelled and they started to march. She picked up the unconscious man, and slung him like so much hay over her shoulder. Then she yelled again, and began to run, the men ran too, and she followed with a lopping easy pace. He watched her march the men out of Winterfell, and around the castle gates. She followed with ease, a loping grace that made her seem more, and more like the shadow cat she reminded him off.
Eddard turned back cat on the bed. "It's almost time to break our fast. We should go down and greet our guests." They dressed, she in a silk gown of dyed cotton red as blood. He in grey pants and shirt, with a wolf's pelt wrapped around his shoulders.
When they entered the great hall music was being played more skillfully than he had ever imagine, on an instrument he hadn't heard before. The notes were sweet, and sad, the melody slow and thrumming through the great hall. He turned to the side and saw that it was the great pale giant. He towered all other men, and held in instrument in his hands. It was made of wood, glossy and shiny in the false sunlight of their flameless lanterns.
It seemed akin to a harp, but his great hands with their six fingers ran across its body, and its long neck of wood. Its center was hollow, and from it the beautiful sound came. He sat in a chair to the side. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to not be there. He wore a shirt blue shirt without sleeves emboldened upon it in gold were words in the Star-Men's tongue. Thick ropes of muscle could be seen under the shift. Loose fitting pants of grey material hung down to his legs, and he wore leather boots on his feet. He played with his eyes closed. Their children, Sansa and Arya, Bran and Robb, and even Jon watched him with awe on their faces. The notes were sweet, and strange, and his fingers danced and twisted over the surface of the instrument in order to make them.
"You are skilled." His wife called to the giant. His eyes opened, and cloudy milk pools stared out at them. Eddard eyed the man as he placed the instrument down with acute eyes. "What is that instrument called?"
"My people call it the guitar. I'm not so skilled at it my Lady, there's still much practice to be had." Eddard watched, his wife had been surprised at his voice, and he understood quite well her feeling. The giant man's soft voice did not fit him, not at all. With his arms now visible Eddard could see that much like his hands, they too were covered in innumerable jagged scars.
"You're so skilled." Sansa cried, and Eddard found himself agreeing with her. "Mother, ask him to stay. They plan to leave tonight, please? Ask him to stay. I want to hear him play more." She stared at the instrument, her eyes longing.
Bran spoke up. A boy of five, not yet deep in his lessons of courtesy he spoke. "How can you play, when you can't see?" The giant took no insult, instead he laughed, a rich sound filled with good humor. "Just because I can't see, does not mean I'm blind." He picked the instrument up again, and played some more. As he began to play again he turned to Sansa. His eyes glittering and wide, a smile upon his face. "I am sad to say-my Lady- that I'll be leaving today, I have duties I have duties I need to attend to back on our ship."
"I think you should stay, Tyliai." The voice was deep and rumbling and Lord Vasquez strolled into the room. The Lord Commander of the Star-Men did not wear the same well-tailored black garment of the previous two times he had met the man. He wore long pants of a similar cut, no he corrected, of the exact same cut as the pale giant. The length and styles were the same, the pockets were the same, and even the fabric was of the same uniformity. A black shirt with long sleeves made it as if he wore no clothing at all. It hung to his form like a second skin. He was well muscled, and was eating one of those biscuits as he entered the room.
"You need to rest. From the time you woke from cold-sleep," Eddard couldn't follow the word, another of the Star-Men's strange terms. "To now, you've had barely any sleep. I think you should stay, and get to know the people, the culture. If we are to stay here, we should learn their ways." He finished eating the biscuit, pulled a second from his pocket and wolfed it down. "We should get to know our future neighbors, and the young lord and ladies seem to be taken by you."
"I can't stay I need to oversee-" He stopped at a look from his commander. "Are the sats in geo-sync? Yes? Well what else is there to do that's so pressing? We've got more than enough bandwidth for five hundred men." The man turned to Eddard. A smile on his face. It seemed the man was always smiling. Always calm.
"If lord Eddard does not mind hosting you for a few weeks."
"It shall be no concern, Lord Vasquez." He too, could learn more about the Star-Men, and their strange customs.
-Demetrius-
The pre-fabs were being placed as the two remaining transport rovers rolled into the landing area. He kept his eyes focused forward, and had to fight with himself to keep the deep chuckle in the depths of his throat from leaping out. Mari was glaring at him, and her displeasure was his pleasure.
"Come now, My Lady..." She turned to him, her own golden orbs fierce with belter rage. The chuckle became harder to fight.
"Don't you dare!" She snarled. "My lady." She mocked. "You gave away one of my transport carts. You gave away two dozen phosphorous led's. You gave away five hundred pounds in printer material for land only suitable for growing gen-enged potatoes." He smiled at her. She was about to rant.
"The only reason you were given charge of this ship rather than me was because of that." She snarled pointing to the pin on his collar. The mark of his rank, as a Son of Sol. "Son of Sol. You are no better than anyone else on this ship. Just because some A.I. algorithm, gave you that title you-" She stopped and snarled. "You- Ass." She stomped away.
Catarina laughed as she watched the woman go. "You shouldn't have done that. That woman is filled with a ravia redder than Mars. She'll hold this against you." The Martian woman tended to afflict her normal speech with tinges of Portuguese much as one would add salt to a slightly flavorless dish.
"She holds everything against me. What's one more thing?" She'd been like that for the year they'd spent shipboard, and the year before that they'd spent in the ort training. He turned his thoughts towards other things.
"So what are your thoughts?"
"This place, it is a shithole. No proper plumbing or sewage system. No sanitation, half those men had not showered before coming aboard our ship. Nojento. Disgusting. I talked to the women when the dinner was finished last night. What they do for their moons blood as they call it is...well..." She spit. "We could become rich selling simple antibiotics. We could spend a lifetime synthesize birth control pills and charge a fortune for them. They have their versions, moon tea, if my translation is accurate. Or blood tea if it isn't." Demetrius nodded.
As he moved about he pulled up a virtual map of the burgeoning town. Engineers were standing by watching trench bots dig and lay pipe for infrastructure, fiber optic cable, thick copper coils for electricity, and sewage lines. The prefab courthouse was being pieced together, a spire of marble, steel and glass being put in place as the center of the town. Roads were being carved into the dirt besides the trenches wide and three landed on each side. Quick-Crete was being poured as the road was carved.
"The number of literate people is literally less than ten percent. At best. Most of them are the landed gentry." She looked around. "Where is the hospital going?" He wanted to sigh, the hospital was going nowhere, and shipboard facilities would suffice for years. As if reading his thoughts.
"Filho da Puta." She wasn't angry, but the look in her face said she was about to raise hell about all this. "You put up a fucking courthouse before a hospital?" Her green eyes seemed to glow. "Do not act stupid, I know what augments you have in that body of yours, and in that brain too. Why the hell is a courthouse more important than a hospital?"
He walked around and took a look at a city being birthed. "We'll need to sell goods, make products and trade in order to get ahold of goods we cannot make. There's no plastic in this world, no potatoes, no oil. There's a minor steel industry the lord's use to make their shields. The knowledge of medicine is atrocious. That alone will draw maesters to us. What happens when we have hundreds of more people in the city just to learn? Will we hoard our knowledge can we?" He paused to let her consider his words.
"What happens when a king come to one of your doctors and offers him anything he wishes. Money, women, men, anything as long as he comes to work in their courts. How do we keep them from going, from sharing their knowledge? With that!" He pointed to the rising courthouse. "That is more than just a courthouse, it's a library. People will come and learn there, and they'll knowledge the world over. What happens if, they make the same offer to one of Meri's men?" He paused to take a deep breath. "They won't make better trebuchets, they'll make cannons. They'll make guns. They'll make flamethrowers and tanks, and whatever the hell they can. We got the top one hundred and one engineers in the Sol Union. They'll see the lack of resources as a challenge."
"If we give it away we can control what they get, how they get it. It won't stop the information from getting out, but it will slow down, soften the impact." He sighed, and patted her on the shoulder. "I understand that you're thinking long term, and that's good. But I'm thinking long term too. The hospital is the next thing that's going to be built. That tower will be done by the end of the month, after that we'll start the hospital." He paused running a finger across the bottom of his square jaw. "Maybe even a machine shop, with a higher share of printer materials to cool Mari's temper. The last thing I need is her of all people running away to some king's castle, for gold, and boys."
"And to spite you." Catarina called, amusement in her voice. "Yes, and to spite me. Belters do have fearsome temper, and they can hold onto grudges until the heat death of the sun." He responded. She shook her head. He put that implacable smile back on his face, and walked forward. They had finished the first set of prefab houses, and were laying the foundation for more. The foundation for a future.
-Authors note-
This chapter comes out a little faster than i anticipated, i believed stopping at catelyn's perspective would be a good place to leave things. But i felt that didn't wrap things up. That last part characterises my ocs more. Okay. Now onto the less interesting things.
1)Next chapter might come out later than this one. This one was supposed to take a few weeks to come out, but i had a day off, and i finished this because i had nothing to do. Plans got canceled and so i hammered out 10k words.
2)Someone in the comments said-500 people can't win a war. I disagree. Cortez conquered the aztecs with 300 men, a few cannons, and guns. You have no idea how primitive pre-gun societies are, and that was with muzzle loaders. Sure the aztecs didn't have steel, but the Sol-Union colonists have guns that are literally almost a thousand years more advanced than what cortez had. And not everyone in the seven kingdoms has steel armor, infact its a fact that in the seven kingdoms only the wealthy can afford a full set of armor. There's a reason knights are considered a higher social class. So maybe what, 1-5% of the population has steel armor? And that same number knows how to properly use a sword? So what? In the late 19th century the british used maxim guns to subdue the zulu with again a few hundred soldiers.
Hilaire Belloc,in his poem"The Modern Traveller" said
"Whatever happens, we have got
The Maxim gun, and they have not."
So, the colonist didn't travel with anything other than pistols, but they can easily print up designs hundred of years more advanced than the maxim gun and decimate any army that may approach them. Horses stopped being used in WWI because machine guns literally chew through calvary. It cuts through them like a hot knife through butter.
3)Dem, is the de facto dictator of colonists. He's called Lord because he is. In the eyes of eddard, he is a lord commander, and the four other are his counselors. Much like the king's council at king's landing, and as such are of course also lords. Because who else would they be other than lords? He'd defacto dictator because he's the ships super user. He's the only one who can override Quays(The ship's A.I.) decisions. If he tells Quay to keep someone locked in their room, they're kept their.
4)Dems is concerned over how the technology will affect the people in this new world. Sudden appearance of technologies usually has short term and long term negative effects on the less developed culture. look up malaysian cargo cults. Dem is a leader for a reason, he thinks long term. And i wanted to show, he's already considering the implication of their people showing up on the world as large
5)Some people asked me where the story take place chronologically. Its about two years before the start of G.O.T.
6)Please read and review. I read every review i get, thanks to all who fav'd and followed'
