From a tall tower, a hooded man watched the sun rise.
The dawn was red, as red as the rivers of blood that now spilled over the many realms of Men. Men who picked up swords and spears and turned them against the fellow living, instead of the many foes who once again pressed upon the old borders. When would they ever learn? The Hooded Man wondered. It may have swapped bronze for iron, yet Mankind remained the same. Arrogant. Selfish. Greedy.
Sunset was not far off. Then the living would crumble like a loose pile of sands under the Others' icy feet. And the Hooded Man was very, very tired. Year after year he stood watch over all that lay under the sun. Many praised him. Many cursed him. And many times the same people did the praising and cursing, though they did not know it. If all went well, the Hooded Man would never let them know.
All wasn't going well.
A flicker of his thought later, an acolyte came scurrying onto the balcony.
"Ten thousand-" The acolyte began in an ancient tongue.
No. "Not yet. Soon, but not yet." The Hooded Man set down his cup of tea. "What news of the realm? Start with the east," He asked the acolyte. He had already seen for himself, of course, and heard from others what he did not see. But it was always a good idea to let the young practice. Maybe the acolyte could have spotted something that even the Hooded Man himself missed in the past three moons.
"In the East, the Five Forts are faltering. Corpses of Stone-Men pile up in the keeps, still wearing garrison uniforms of the East. The Others are marching upon the Five Forts with an army group of corpses."
"Is there anyone to burn the stone-men?" The Hooded Man asked, though he already had the answer.
The acolyte shook his head. "Plague runs amok through the rest of Yi Ti, and the War of Three has only helped spread it from town to town. The claimant at Carcosa is nearly destroyed, his hosts exhausted by wights that dig and wights that fly. The claimant at Trader Town moves half of his massive hosts against the Jogos Nhai, bringing the plague to the northern steppes. The other half marches south, and death marches with them. The God-emperor of-"
"King," the Hooded Man corrected. Just because the man called himself an emperor didn't make him one.
"I'm sorry, my lord. The King of Yin has sealed Yin and its surroundings against all outside his lands, even his own countrymen. And even now they are trying to repair every hulk that still floats in the city, so that he could ship all of his people to Leng. Yinnish armies are already besieging Turrani. And Asshai still stands."
"Your report on the East is satisfactory. But I only need you to only observe and report, and not to speculate," the Hooded Man said. Even the lowest acolyte would have known by now that the Far East would not hold. A year, perhaps, two if they were lucky. Maybe the YiTish could have held for longer had they been united. The hosts that now warred against each other could have marched to the Five Forts and denied the Others fresh corpses within the borders. The Forts were high, and sealed with magic that only Kingsblood could break. Yet the YiTish chose to war against each other instead of their true foes. It was now too late to prevent their fall, along with everything between the Bone Mountains and the Bleeding Sea.
The Isle of Leng would hold for a while longer, of course. But the Lengii Straits were not wide enough to stop plague-ships from sailing across. Then it would be all over, even if the Others could not step on Lengii soil. Fortunately, Bu Gai was stubborn but not stupid.
Stubbornness could be forgiven, the Hooded Man mused. So could stupidity, though that often took more effort to correct. But a stupid and stubborn man was beyond all redemption.
"Carry on," the Hooded Man finally ordered.
"In the South, we still cannot peer into the Fourteen Flames. Men cling to life on the Basilisk Isles and Lesser Moraq, but not any further into the Sothoryosi mainland. The queen with dragons still clings to her seat at Meereen, refusing to move further west. The Summer Isles are as normal."
The Hooded Man nodded. If all else failed, what remained of the Realms of Men would fall back onto the many isles that dotted the Summer Sea, and bide time until every man, woman and child could be armed. If even that failed... it would be a glorious last stand on Sotheryos. Then only the Greenseers would remember a world which was once full of life. Or they could run even further West…
"In the West, Lords Frey and Bolton broke guest right under the Lions' orders and treacherously slew the Wolf King. The Blue Island returned that same night."
The Blue Island. The blue tear-drop of the red Hooded Man. It arrived three days before the Hooded Man thought he would. Had he miscalculated? Or did blood spilled at the Twins fulfil those ancient spells that finally summoned the island?
"We do not know who leads the islanders, but it seems that- I'm sorry, my Lord. I will not speculate further on this. The Blue Islanders use an eagle for their seal, and a striped flag with a blue corner as their flag. The Blue chieftain took a few of his warriors, and destroyed two lion hosts and a rose host. And I was in King's Landing when the Blue chieftain's son overthrew the lions on New Year's Day."
The Hooded Man cackled. "Do tell me more. How many men did the son take? How did they arrive at the city? Did they use sorcery?" The Hooded Man himself did not know. He did not see Blue hosts march towards Kings Landing. All was quiet. Then the Westerosi capital just… fell in one night.
"No more than a hundred, and they arrived by boat. A fourth of them posed as musicians and attended the lion king's wedding, then took the lion's court hostage. I do not know if they broke guest right or not," the acolyte answered.
"And I do not give a fuck." The Hooded Man's smile bared his long-rotten teeth. He knew his laws. Those who committed crimes against Mankind, or aided and abetted those who did, were henceforth entitled to no recourse should they themselves be apprehended or wronged, not even death if they begged for it. The nine hundred and ninety-nine blazing candles in the tower still screamed long into the night, and shrieked when the sun rose every morn.
The acolyte bowed. "Then so be it, my lord. I did not feel magic, but all of them had firespears, and some of those shot more than ten darts at once. They then used a machine that shot a wall of darts against advancing foes. But the Blue chieftain's son drew his sword when the lion-men got close. He wielded his sword like a toddler, and I saw him knocked down in front of the Sept and dragged away by his allies. He survived and held onto the city, then welcomed the Blue and Wolf armies with the wolf-princess by his side. The Blue chieftain is now the strongest ruler in Westeros, as King Bu Gai is to Yi-Ti."
The Hooded Man's fingers gripped his sword-hilt so tightly that his bones clacked. He made to speak, but at the last moment he swallowed his anger, his fear, his love and hatred. Don't let it out. Don't let others see. Whatever he wanted would be his anyway, sooner or later. "Tell me about other happenings in the West," he croaked.
"The Imposter still sails in the west. He bears your colors-"
"Though it is not your fault, my patience now runs thin. Tell me about the North before it runs out completely." The Imposter would be destroyed, sunk into the depths of the oceans where even krakens could not last. By the Blue Chieftain, if he was indeed competent. Or his son. Or the surprisingly victorious Wolves. Or by the Hooded Man himself if none else succeeded in the task. But the Hooded Man did not want to show his hand before he had fully arranged his deck of cards.
"In the North, Others broke the western Watch at the Fist. Remnants of the Watch fell back to the Wall itself, but First Men who live beyond the Wall are now trying to fight their way through Castle Black. One of the Westerosi claimant-kings landed his army at Eastwatch and is marching it west. They are now only one dawn's march away from Castle Black."
"The one who some say is meant to be Azor Ahai?" a rare metallic chuckle burst from the Hooded Man's dry mouth.
"I think so, but I cannot tell if all of the Red Priests believe it." The acolyte quickly switched to another topic. Stupid people did not last long in the Hooded Man's service. "Even further north of the fist, the Three-eyed Crow and the Wolf-boy apprentice are holed up in their cave. I saw them, but I do not know whether they saw me."
"And I will teach you how to tell," the Hooded Man remarked.
"The Shivering Sea's ice sheet is spreading south. There are no defenses along northern Essos to hinder the Others." The acolyte looked over the balcony, at the criss-crossing canals below. "And Braavos still stands."
Far off in the distance, the bronze Titan roared.
A few hours later, the Hooded Man found himself sitting face-to-face with Ferrego Antaryon, Sealord of Braavos.
"So! It seems winter is coming," the Hooded Man said almost pleasantly. It never hurt to begin with small talk.
"I know, I know. I've heard news from across the Narrow Sea. My sailors say the Starks were helped by a people who appeared from nowhere in the middle of the God's Eye. Some say they were magicians, others claim they were from another world. Dare I ask, were they by any chance yours?" Ferrego asked.
"That's what I'm trying to find out." The Hooded Man snapped his fingers. Two acolytes came forth. One of them placed two glasses on the table, while the other poured water from an hourglass-shaped glass bottle. A current of bubbles rose from the water, forming a thin white froth that slowly dissipated.
Ferrego carefully held the drink as if it were full of poison.
Seeing this, the Hooded Man took his and downed it in one gulp. Then he asked for more, and downed that too. Finally the Sealord took a quick sip… and nearly spat the drink out.
"Air-infused water," the Hooded Man replied. The Sealord would see this as yet another example of the Cult's spells, though it was but one of the easiest tricks the Hooded Man and his followers could perform. "Speaking of air and water, however, when I said 'winter is coming' I was referring to the weather rather than the Starks. The coming winter will be the coldest the Cult has seen, ever since its founding many years ago."
"The Cult of Starry Wisdom was founded even before Valyria arose from the Fourteen Flames. If it is the coldest your cult has ever seen, how cold would it be?" the Sealord asked.
The Hooded Man said nothing held out his glass. One acolyte opened a box packed with cold ice. The other carefully pulled out a bottle and poured wine into the two glasses. Immediately the table was engulfed with a chilly mist.
"Try the wine," the Hooded Man finally suggested. "Then you will know how cold this winter shall be. Last time it was this cold, the seas and rivers froze all the way to the mouth of the Rhoyne."
Ferrego shook his head in disbelief. "Are you suggesting another Long Night? You are out of your mind."
"I do not recall the Church of Starry Wisdom ever giving you a false weather report. Or to your predecessors, for that matter. Many of our acolytes spend all their lives watching the stars. Surely they would know a thing or two about the skies."
Outside the window of painted glass, the Braavosi Lagoon shimmered like a silver mirror under a gentle sun. A large island shielded this part of the lagoon from the Shivering Sea, waves of water battering the lagoon's outlying islands where it ended in the south, waves of light battering the sky itself where it ended in the North. And beyond that… a taste of things to come.
"How many people will die?" the Sealord finally asked. "If you speak truly, of course."
"In Braavos? As few as you want, if you start before the end of this year. You have your Iron Bank, you have arms and armour in plenty, you have the ships to carry your people south and to fish so that they may be fed. If you start earlier, you might even be able to help Pentos and Lorath, and those living near the Shivering Sea all the way up to Ib. If Braavos has not mobilised by the end of this year… load all of your best men onto your fastest ships, then make straight for Tall Trees Town."
Ferrego looked at the Hooded Man, his eyes full of disbelief. "What about the rest of the world?"
"If the newly arrived peoples in Westeros are not too stupid, then we will be speaking Westerosi by the time spring comes again. If they are, then we will speak Summer Islander. If we survive that is," he added. "Last I checked, there is only enough food to keep at most half of all men alive through the next winter. More if it lasts shorter, less if it lasts longer." The Hooded Man did not speak of the plague now spreading in the East, nor of the undead creatures massing along the Five Forts and the Wall. It was hard for the Sealord to take this news seriously right now, but the Hooded Man knew Ferrego well. Enough doubt had been sown into the Sealord's mind that he would be quietly making plans. And word from the east was already spreading along the trade routes leading west."
"But enough doom and gloom for today. The Stark girl is being crowned in the Red Keep even as we speak." The Hooded Man placed a glass candle on the table. It burst into flame. Then came light and sound.