It was a month after returning to Winterfell that I finally felt myself relaxing into the position of Warden. The Northern Lords and Jarls, and petty vassals began to arrive in numbers for the Northern Harvest festival, the cycle of taxes had been collected and the first ship load of migrants had landed at White Harbor.

Cat had begun helping in all manners, organizing rooms and having the servants redo the rushes and airing out long unused guest houses. Though all finance was handled by Myself with Ben acting as the unofficial Castellen, That is until he departs to take ownership of the ruined tower keep, Queen's Crown, and begin the building of the new Castle that would be taking its place. The current tower of Queens Crown was a massive singular tower in the middle of a lake with a small abandoned village known for its apple and fruit orchards. Ben would be setting out with the first group of migrants in a few weeks time, builders had been dispatched a month prior to begin setting foundations, though we knew it would take many years for the new Keep to be raised.

Winterfell was ancient. The broken tower and first keep amongst the oldest. Ned had been busy in recent weeks, preparing both for the harvest, the meeting of his banners, and the planning for the restoration of the aforementioned structures.

The castle could house thousands at the moment, but once the buildings were repaired and the new barracks raised 10s of thousands could be housed instead.

Overlooking the training yard, and his vassals Lord Stark allowed himself a small smile.

Before him were his men at arms training with their spears in hand, and a few of his Jarls and their sworn swords trained as well.

The sight of the two hundred men putting their sweat, blood, and drive into honing their skills made their lord proud.

' They'll be given extra rations tonight.' Ned thought quietly to himself, pacing away from the ledge of his vantage point, gesturing for sir Rodrik Cassel a northern knight, ordained under a weir tree instead of the seven. A man who was part of the newest branch of warriors of the North, the knights of the laughing tree.

His brother Sir Martyn Cassel was the head of Stark house guard and he was the Master at arms.

They were two of the North's best, and swore to serve House Stark leaving their youngest brother as head of house Cassel, which was half a day's ride from Winterfell.

"Rodrik any stand outs so far?"

"A few milord, a young man named Srvyn from Wintertown has shown great talent and has a solid mind for tactics. With some experience and education he would serve you well as a wolf's guard." The knight reported as they reached the training grounds ringing with steel and the huffs of men.

Nodding silently I quickly filed the information away.

"Another…" the man started hesitantly.

Shooting him a look of confusion, it wasn't like the ser to hesitate.

Staring back at his liege he spoke with confidence.

"A lady from Bear Island has been trashing the men with a hand axe and shield. Though she can use about any weapon put in her hand, she is another I would suggest sire. Her name is Linsa." He finished.

Understanding crossed my mind as I listened. Even though Northern women fought, it was still uncommon outside of Bear Island, the mountain clans or even the Umber lands.

"Call them forth." I commanded quietly.

Nodding, Sir Rodrik rushed to follow the order.

A minute passed as two people trailed the brown haired knight, both well over 6 feet tall, and soaked in sweat.

"Sire!" They called, falling to a knee in front of him.

"Rise! And let me see you." I said, my voice clear and commanding as glaciers in the bay of ice.

They did as he bade, the man Srvyn was a dark haired man, no more than 18, and the woman hair black as a raven was of a similar age, both looked at him in reverence.

"I am told you are both excellent in combat and have the mind of warriors. Do you wish to serve the House of Stark, and the North?" I asked, not bothering with small talk.

"Yes milord!" They called loudly, chests puffed out in pride.

"So be it, from this moment forward you will both be under the direct command of Sir Martyn Cassel and will be required to take lessons with our Maester in both history, politics and your letters if you don't already have them. When he deems it time, if or when you are ready you will be knighted under a weir tree to serve in the Wolf's Guard."

The looks on their faces told me all I needed to know. These two would be the first of the elite warriors of the Northern Brotherhood.

"Very good. Lord Cassel I leave it to you." The Lord of Winterfell said, giving the man a nod.

Turning away I took a leisurely pace towards his study, many ideas forming in his mind as he strode through the grounds.

Bear Island women were more than Just wives. They were warriors, even though they did the duties of running households they still fought and trained alongside the men.

'Why then has Stark Women not followed suit?' The Lord Stark mused to himself as he entered the solar, ordering his guards to stand outside the door.

Eyes sweeping the room, a glint caught my eye across the left side of the room behind the weir wood desk and saddled up against the large bookshelves crammed with scrolls and books.

Pacing across the room I leaned forward to see what had caught the light.

There on the edge of a middle shelf was ornate wolfs statue, maws open and jade for eyes and teeth. I reached out a hand and gently caressed the ancient token, only for my thumb to glide down across a fang spilling my maroon blood into its mouth.

Cursing my stupidity I place the digit in my mouth, as I did so the jade eyes seemed to glow brightly and the sound of stone sliding against stone filled my ears, though I mutely noted it was a dull sound, I doubted anyone else would have heard it.

To my astonishment the narrow wall between the shelf and the opposite wall slide aside revealing a set of stone steps spirling downward.

"What the Fuck!?" I let slip from my tongue.

Hesitantly shuffling to the wall I removed a torch and slide my dirk from my belt and with a steading breath began my descent.

The air was still as I maneuvered downward, the stones neither dusty nor worn by time, they seemed as if they had been used frequently. Though I knew logically it was impossible as only father or Brandon would have known of this.

Still I followed the steps leading me deeper and deeper, after minutes had ticked by I knew I must be under the Castle Foundation, just as the thought crossed my mind the stairs opened to a long corridor with cobbled stones embedded into the floor, portraits of men and wolves adorned the walls, tapestries of ancient battles hung mightily beside them. And all between were a series of heavy looking doors leading to a massive double door at the end of the hall.

Reaching for the set of keys on my belt I began fitting the ones I did not know their purposes.

One of the unassuming iron keys clicked into place after a moment, leading me to crack the door open.

Leading with the torch I crept forward, curiosity burning in my stomach, feeling along the wall closest the door I found a series of scones with what looked like murky red crystals embedded into them.

The curiosity reared even further as my palm passed over the crystal brushing it, and to my astonishment.. The entire chamber was filled with a warm mysterious red glow.

I stumbled back as the room was illuminated fully. Room would be an understatement, it was more a massive rounded hall, possibly 30 feet in height, and 100 feet from the walls on either side of the door to the other, and in length some 400 feet from door to the end of the back wall.

The biggest factor of my shock was what filled the chamber.

Treasures, gold, silver, precious stones, the walls covered in shelves with artifacts of old.

At the back of the chamber were chest after chest stacked from floor to ceiling. Crates overspilling with the aforementioned loot.

Mannequins fitted in expensive armours, and even more weapons of every make and type filled racks here and there. But what called to me was a section near the back left.

It was a perhaps, 15 by 15 space of tall shelves and bookcases crammed with books and scrolls, none of which showed any sign of damage.

'What the hell is all of this?!'