Jon meets a cruel servant of the Northern Gods and must do battle against the Dark Powers that seek his ruin. Kindly leave a review.


From their clothing and number of servants Jon guessed them to be, for the most part, very wealthy and when he thought about it he found it odd that such men would risk the road at what was clearly an inauspicious time for such a journey. He took this up with Ingfried as they set up camp three days after setting out. She had nodded in agreement. As her maid served them tea she went into further details.

'You are correct. Normally most of these money-grubbers would be home by the fire; counting their money and waiting for their Halfling chief to prepare their dinner while they send servants or less important family members on such dangerous and unpleasant journeys, such as this one.' Jon gave her a questioning look.

'Yet here they are.' He said. She nodded.

'Yes, here they are.

'With things becoming unstable markets are in flux, with the price of goods skyrocketing. A successful trip to and back from Marineburg will make all of these men more money than they would normally see in ten or more years. So here they have come themselves as I doubt most of them trust their underlings to undertake the task without robbing them blind.' Jon just nodded, though he was not sure that he entirely agreed.

While there was some truth to what she said; he was not sure that all of them could be as bad as she described them. Among the merchants he saw several younger men who appeared to be the sons or younger siblings. If it was the same here as it was back in Westeros then it was likely that they were along to learn the trade and it made sense that if the as much was at stake as Ingfried claimed that there was for the head of the families would come along to ensure that the trip was a success. Nor were they the only people in the caravan. In addition to the merchants and their guards, there were also several people who had paid to join in the caravan in order to make the journey in the relative safety that the caravan offered.

One of these, a young man named Louis, quickly befriended Jon. He was a short, dark man from a place called Gisoreux, a land west of Marineburg. He told Jon that he was a troubadour, a wondering singer as far as Jon could tell. Underneath his traveling cloak he wore clothing which seemed too bright and, frankly, light to be practical in Jon's opinion and appeared to be armed only with a long dagger. He also had a large, feathered hat which he seemed to always wear and was always adjusting it. On the second day after they had set out Jon had happened to see Louis without it and his eyes had been drawn to Louis's right ear, the top half of which had been sliced off, a mutilation which explained why the man was always adjusting his hat to ensure that his injury was always covered.

The man soon showed himself to be talented at his craft. He had a lilting voice which lent itself well to his songs. Many of his songs seemed to be of brave knights, beautiful ladies, courtly love and the trials that they had to endure before they could be together. Jon was sure that Sansa would have loved them, but he knew other songs as well. He had songs of ships at sea, he had songs of bloody battles and he had songs of death and tragedy. At least he claimed to have the last two songs; given where they were unsurprisingly few in the caravan wanted to hear such songs and he was clearly a man who knew how to read the mood of a crowd.

There was; however, one song which he did sing. It was on the first night that he sang it. It was just after the evening meal and they were all sitting by the fire. Jon had been a little by himself as Ghost was lying on the ground beside him. Louis had been plucking idly at the strings of his instrument, seemingly in an effort to decide which song to sing, when his eyes landed on Ghost. He had seen the direwolf before, as had everyone else in the caravan and like most others gave Ghost a wide berth. That night; however, the troubadour had stared at Jon's companion thoughtfully and had then put his instrument away. He had declared that that night he would entertain them, not with a song, but with a story.

The story he told was of the god Ulric and how, when the world was much younger, he was driven to hunt a prey which he could not name, but which he knew that he must seek. After he had hunted it long and after many setbacks and hardships, he at last found what he sought. A fierce Northern maid named Birgit that he took as his lover. Jon had been slightly confused by this, as Ingfried had always described Ulric as a great white wolf and she had to explain to him that Ulric could also take that form a man. From the description it sounded to Jon like he would not look out of place in a Wildling camp. The story ended with Birgit dying while bearing Ulric's children and that his cries of grief could still be heard on the northern winds.

'And it is said,' Louis said, bringing his story to its conclusion; 'That these children of the Wolf God can walk as both man and wolf.' At his words many had looked over at Ghost and had muttered to themselves.

'You should be careful with your wolf.' Ingfried had told him afterwards.

'I have been.' He assured her.

'You must be more so where we are going.'

'What do you mean?'

'While the cult of Sigmar has replaced the worship of Ulric in most of the Empire,' she said with bitterness in her voice; 'They, for the most part, at least give him respect. It is not so much where we are going.

'In Marineburg the worship of the White Wolf is virtually non-existent. There they honor Mannan, god of the sea and the other gods of the south, more even than the worship of Sigmar, if for no other reason than they simply cannot worship of pile of gold.' The last part had been delivered half in mockery and half in scorn. Jon had not commented on that, but had taken her words to heart, remembering how the story had affected the rest of the caravan. The story had affected him as well, though in a different way.

The story had made him think of the old gods, his own gods. Though he had thought them cruel and heartless at times, he found that he missed them. Since coming here he had not seen any weirwood trees, meaning that the old gods could no longer see or hear him. While he might not have liked them, they had always been there and he now found their absence strangely disconcerting. This had led to another, disturbing thought. What would happen to him if he were to die? Where would his soul go if the old gods could not take it? He did not have an answer and that unsettled him and he had done his best to put it from his mind as he had returned to his bedroll.

Fortunately, there was an easy way to both keep Ghost away from the caravan and his mind off disturbing thoughts. He went out every day with the pickets and the familiar work kept his mind occupied. While he and the others never saw anything unusual, they were all kept on alert. As they continued on Jon noticed that there was, in fact, something unusual. While as winter was fast approaching, he was not surprised to see that many animals had already gone into hibernation, many that should be present were not. In his experience the absence of animals meant that something had frightened them off and he doubted that it was just the caravan. Ivan, one of the scouts which Jon had befriended on the road, agreed with him. As if summoned by his thoughts Ivan himself appeared beside Jon; doing so with such stealth that had it not been for Ghost Jon would not have realized that he was there.

Ivan hailed from a land called Kislev, far to the north of where they were. He was a short rangy man, his legs bowed from a lifetime spent in the saddle. At fifty or so he had long gray hair and an elaborate mustache of the same color. He also had a strange accent and sometimes Jon had difficulty understanding him. He was a friendly fellow and had on several occasions shared a drink which had burned Jon's throat when he drank it, much to Ivan's amusement. He was not smiling now.

'No birds, eh?' He said, his voice little more than a whisper.

'No animals either.' Jon said, his voice equally low. Ivan nodded.

'No natural predator would spook them like this. Foes nearby I say. Ursun as my witness.'

'What do you think it is?'

'Nothing good. We head back to caravan now I think.' Jon simply nodded in agreement. Not only did the forest seem wrong to him, he had come to trust Ivan. Not only was the man more familiar with the terrain and what was and was not normal; he was also as good a woodsman as any Ranger or Wildling that Jon had ever met.

Their only warning was Ghost growling.

Bursting from the trees half a dozen creatures fell on them. Not having time to use their bows, Jon and Ivan instead drew their swords. In the gathering darkness and the gloom of the forest Jon did not clearly see what he was fighting at first, when he did, he felt his gore rising. The thing was human, or at least bore a close enough resemblance to one that the differences were even more horrifying. It had the body of a burly man, except for the fact that from his face were two tentacles which ended in clusters of eyes which seemed to move independently of each other. For a moment Jon was stunned into immobility; but when the man, if it was a man, swung a club at Jon's head his reflexes kicked in and tore him from his stupor. He stepped back and once the club sailed harmlessly through the air where his head had been a moment before he stepped forward again and ran his opponent through. A scream drew his attention to the left where he saw Ghost had pulled another misshapen creature down by the throat, which he was tearing out. Even as Jon looked on Ghost rose from his kill and charged another, which fared no better than the first. With a cry of triumph Ivan ran his opponent through. The carnage was too much for the remaining two opponents, who turned and fled. Instinctively Jon moved to follow them, but Ivan called for him to halt.

'No, no my friend. No good chasing them. Either you get lost or you meet their friends.'

'Friends?' Jon asked. Ivan nodded.

'Da. There are always more mutants. These just scouts.'

'Mutants?' Jon asked, even more confused.

'No time. Sound horn and we go back.' Again Jon cured himself for his absentmindedness.

All groups of scouts carried a horn. If they encountered trouble they were supposed to blow it. This would signal not only that the caravan was in danger, it was also the command for any scouts who heard it to return to the caravan so the defenders would not be scattered all about if an attack were to come. Jon raised the horn to his lips. Before he could sound it; however, the horn of one of the other parties was heard. It was joined almost at once by another and then another until it seemed that all the horns were sounding. As he heard them Jon went cold. It could only mean one thing.

They were being attacked from all sides.

He sounded their own horn and looked to Ivan. The older man was already headed back to the caravan, making good speed despite the terrain. He turned and looked back to Jon and gestured for him to follow.

'We run now; da?' Jon did not reply, he simply ran.

Though he kept his eyes and ears straining for sounds of pursuit, there were none. Though sounds of battle were echoing through the woods, none were nearby. It seemed that he and Ivan had fortunately only been attacked by a few scouts while their main force was elsewhere. They were not; however, inclined to wait for that to change and so they did not stop running until they had made it back to the caravan. It too, fortunately, had not yet been attacked. While it had not been attacked; it was clear that they expected to be and were rapidly making preparations for such an attack. Wagons and their contents were hastily being used to construct a makeshift barricade and the people were arming themselves while the other scouts, at least most of them, were emerging from the woods and making their way back to what protection the barricade offered. As they all reached the barricade Jon noted that several of the scouts were sporting wounds and that three or four of them had not come back, their fate clear if unspoken. Jon and the others took up positions at the barricade.

Jon stared out into the forest, at first neither seeing nor hearing anything. Then he detected the sound of movement amongst the trees. After a moment he began to see shapes moving towards the defenders. His heart hammering in his chest; Jon drew an arrow and nocked his bow. As he did so, the first of the attackers emerged from the trees. In the lowering light it was hard to see them clearly, but what Jon did see was more than enough. It was a mixed group, with more of the people Ivan had called mutants and the hideous animal-like creatures he had seen when he first arrived. It was the last group; however, which drew his eyes and caused him the greatest unease. They were men, at least he assumed that they were men, encased in suits of armour that looked far heavier than those worn by the knights of Westeros. A closer look though revealed that something was wrong with them. Their armour looked rusted and corroded. Many of them seemed bloated, with bulging bellies and with flies buzzing around them.

To his horror as one moved forward, he saw that the man literally had his entrails hanging from his belly and it seemed that his flesh had fused with his armour. He had no helmet, and his face was visible and Jon wished that it was not. He was hairless and his skin was an unhealthy shade of grey. Several bulges and fleshy growths dotted his face and neck, from which puss leaked. Jon could not understand how the man was able to keep his feet, let alone move or fight, but the man moved with seeming ease. Around him his fellow defenders were making sounds of dismay and prayers to invoke their gods' protection. Just then the diseased man stopped and began to speak. Despite the distance his voice was easily heard.

'Welcome.' He said in a slurring, phlegm-filled voice. Despite this there was a tone of welcome and good cheer which seemed at odds with the source.

'I am Polus the Poxed. I greet you and I come to grant you the gifts of the grandfather. I would prefer for you to accept the gifts willingly. If however, you insist, I shall give them to you in a more forceful manner, though I shall regret having to do so.' From somewhere among the defenders one of the exploding weapons sounded. The pellet it fired struck Polus, penetrating his armour. The only result that Jon could see was a trick of a greenish-black fluid. Polus looked at the wound and then back to the barricade.

'Very well.' He said raising his massive axe, its blade bearing a searing rune that glowed sickly green, the upper length of its shaft was decorated with the rotting torso of a man.; at the signal the animal-men and mutants surged forward, though Jon noted that Polus and the other armoured warriors hung back.

Jon turned his attention to those coming towards them. He loosed arrow after arrow into the onrushing hoard, with his fellow defenders joining in. Many attackers fell, but more kept coming. Chanting behind him drew his attention. Ingfried stood there, her staff raised with its top pointing towards the enemy. Her chant reached its end and wind blasted from her staff. It struck the enemy nearest the barricade, throwing them to the ground. Jon and the others took advantage of this to put another volley in them before they could regain their footing.

Just when Jon thought that they were on the verge of winning a bolt of green lighting appeared seemingly out of nowhere. It struck the barricade and blew a hole in the barricade and killed the defenders there. Even worse; it was now that Jon saw Polus's plan. He had used the mutants and the others to draw the defenders' attention and fire while he had had warriors had advanced unhindered by the defenders' fire. They seemed to be moving slowly, but had managed to cover much of the ground and would soon reach the barricade. Even as the defenders noticed their advance, the first wave of attackers reached the line. As they tried to climb over barricade the defenders stabbed and clubbed at them. Many of the attackers fell; but those who made it over were doing considerable damage. Many of the people in the caravan were not professional soldiers and were having a hard time confronting the more vicious foes. The attackers were aided by a second bolt of green lightning blew a second hole and inflicted more casualties.

The part of the barricade that Jon was at had not been attacked directly and so he was able to fire at the attackers who had not yet reached the barricade, while Ghost at his command ravaged the foes nearest to them. As he did so he looked beyond them in an effort to find the source of the enemy magic, for it could be nothing else. After a moment he saw its source, a mutant near the trees. It was stooped and bent like an old man, leaning on a staff. Bent or not, it was chanting again and Jon unconsciously braced for another strike. Before it could strike Ingfried sent a bolt of lighting of her own out to crash into the mutant before he could finish his own spell. He dropped his staff as his chest was blown out and he fell to the ground. Just then Polus and his fellow warriors reached the barricade. When they did they either forced their way through the holes in the barricade, or they used their weapons and great strength to create new ones.

There was only about fifteen or so of them, but it soon began to look like they were unbeatable juggernauts and were capable of winning the battle on their own. They were a terrifying sight, even the shortest standing head and shoulders above the defenders and all seemingly far broader and bulkier as well. Each was surrounded by five or more defenders, all stabbing or hacking at them, their blows seemed to have little to no effect. Most blows simply bounced off their armour and even when a blow did get through, it seemed to do little to no harm to them. On the other hand; the warriors seemed to fell an opponent with each blow. The defenders' efforts were further hampered by the fact that many were not soldiers and were both being affected by their fear and getting in one another's way. Here and there men were starting to turn and run, though where they were going to run to Jon had no idea. Just when it seemed that all was lost, things took another turn. With a roar the ogre appeared. Charging into the fray swinging its weapon. Despite its crude appearance, the blade was horrifically effective. With a single blow it cleaved one of the warriors in half; a savage kick sent another one flying. A third foe was spitted on a device strapped to the ogre's wrist which was half shield and half blade. With apparently little effort the ogre lifted its foe off the ground and sent it hurling into another with a flick of its wrist, sending them both to the ground. While this carnage was being inflicted Ingfried used her power to blast another of the warriors, reducing him to little more than cooked meat in his armour. Once again, it looked as if victory would be theirs and once again the tide of battle swung against them.

Polus made his way through the defenders, hewing down any defender which got in his way, to stand before the ogre. The massive being bellowed again and brought its weapon down in blow which Jon was sure would split Polus in half. The warrior made no effort to doge the blow; instead, he brought his axe up to block the incoming blow. When the blow struck, despite Polus's great strength being apparent, he was not strong enough to stop the blow, nor did he try to. Instead, he used his axe to catch the ogre's blade and guided it down and to the side. This done, he freed his weapon and buried it in the meaty arm of the ogre. The ogre, for its part, dropped his weapon with a scream of pain and clutched at the wound. Even as Jon looked on the flesh around the wound became gangrenous and began to rot. As the ogre stared at the wound in horror, Polus swung his axe again and buried it in one of the ogre's knees. As the second wound also began to rot the ogre fell down one its remaining good knee. Its head now within range Polus brought his axe up and down, splitting both the ogre's helmet and head in two. As the large body fell to the ground. He then turned to face Ingfried and began to move towards her. Two of her bodyguards moved to defend her and were effortlessly cut down, leaving her open to Polus's attack.

Jon would not allow that.

He dropped his bow and began to run towards Polus. The man's back was to Jon and did not seem to notice his approach, his attention solely focused on Ingfried, who was desperately trying to form a spell. Jon had been taught by Ser Rodrik that it was dishonourable to stab an opponent in the back, but his time with the Watch and the Wildlings had also taught him practicality and the advantage of surprise against a powerful opponent, like Polus. Also, he was threatening someone he both needed and considered a friend. So, he charged forward attempting to make no sound as he ran towards the warrior, Longclaw ready to be thrust into Polus's broad back. He did not know if he made some sound, or if Polus had some other sense which warned him of the attack. Either way, he turned to face Jon and swung his axe at him. Jon had been expecting this when he saw Polus begin to turn towards him and bent his knees till they were almost touching the ground and the axe-head passed harmlessly over him. Once it was passed, he sprang up and towards Polus, thrusting out Longclaw as if it were a lance.

The blade took the warrior full in the chest, the Valyrian steel blade cutting through the black armour. Having seen Polus shrug off his earlier wound, Jon did not expect the blow to kill him, even though it would have proved fatal to a normal man. So, he immediately pulled the blade free, which also pulled the warrior forward. Once the blade was free, Jon swung at Polus's neck with all his might. The blow landed and Polus's head tumbled to the ground. As the body hit the ground Jon turned to Ingfried to see if she was alright. To his surprise she was looking at him in horror.

'YOUR SWORD!' She cried, causing him to look down. The sight seized him with a horror which mirrored hers.

Longclaw was melting.

Wherever Polus's blood had gotten on the blade it was corroding and melting like wax held near a flame. In shock, Jon dropped the blade and leaped away from it. It hit the group in the rapidly growing pool of Polus's blood, speeding up the process. Within seconds all the remained of Jon's sword was a puddle of corrupted metal. Jon could only stare in shock.

He did not know how long he stood there staring at the remains of his sword before the sounds of battle returned his attention to what was going on around him, being acutely aware that he was now unarmed. Fortunately, that seemed a moot point. The remaining warriors and their allies seemed to have lost heart at the sight of their leader's death; while at the same time it had emboldened those defenders which remained. First their allies turned and fled, followed by the warriors. Several of the defenders hurled insults after them and one or two missiles were sent after them, but for the most part the defenders were not able to mount an effective pursuit. They had won. As the cheers rang out Ingfried came up to Jon and anxiously looked him over, though she made no effort to touch him.

'Did he wound you? Did you get any of his blood on you?' Sharing her anxiety, Jon quickly patted himself down vigorously. Feeling no burns, he at last looked at her and shook his head.

'Praise Ulric!' She declared. Then, before he could react, she leaned in and kissed him.

After the battle the caravan continued, now slowed by the wounded in their party. Fortunately, or unfortunately, this did not prove to be too great of a burden as many of those wounded soon suffered from infections, sickened and died. On the positive side, they were not attacked again. After Jon had killed their leader, the surviving attackers had lost heart and fled. Jon and the others had had neither the ability nor the desire to pursue and had let them go. Jon had feared that there would be another attack, but the enemy seemed equally disinclined to recommence the battle. They their held their position for two days but knew they could not linger and thus the journey began again.

Once again Jon spent much of his time on picket duty as possible, this was for several reasons. The first being to keep away Louis. The troubadour had composed a song about the battle, including Jon's part in it and had been singing it to the caravan as they continued. Jon found it somewhat uncomfortable to be praised so. Also, the song reminded him of the loss of Longclaw. He felt guilt and shame at the loss of the of ancestral weapon of House Mormont. Feelings which he felt afresh every time he looked down at the longsword that he had been given from one of the dead to replace his own blade. It felt heavy and was not as well made as Longclaw had been. So, he did his best to not have to hear the song and be reminded of his lose. The other reason that he tried to stay away from the caravan was Ingfried.

She had broken away from him as soon as she had kissed him. She had clearly been embarrassed and had quickly walked away. Later she had apologized for her actions, claiming that she had been caught up in the twin flushes of battle and victory. Jon had accepted her apology and had said no more of the matter, but things were still awkward between them. They had not spoken as much afterwards as they had before, and Jon was sorry for that. She was really the only person he had to talk to, Ivan having been killed in the battle. Ingfried thought that Jon had been upset by her actions when the truth of the matter was quite different.

He had liked it; he had enjoyed it a lot.

When he had been younger had dreamed of being kissed by a beautiful woman like Ingfried and had taken a great deal of pleasure from finally having his dream come true. Nevertheless, he was sworn to the Night's Watch, and he would not break his vow to them again. There was also the matter of Ygritte.

She had not been beautiful as Ingfried was, but Jon had loved her. They had not been married, not in any way that the Seven Kingdoms would recognize anyway, but they had been…something. When he wasn't careful, he occasionally found himself thinking of the kiss from Ingfried and wishing for another. When he did this, in addition to guilt over betraying his vow, he also felt guilt over betraying Ygritte. Thus, until he could figure out what to do, he kept his distance from the wizard as much as possible. Jon wished that he could explain this, but he was reluctant to talk about Ygritte and even if he had not, he did not have the words to explain himself. Sansa had tried to teach him to talk to girls, but she had never taught him what to say in a situation like this, though he was sure that talking about another woman would not go over well with Ingfried and so they journeyed in uncomfortable silence.

Gradually, the forest gave way, though it did not happen fast enough for Jon, who had become heartily sick of the trees, as had the others of the party. More and more the trees gave way to cultivated lands. These had all been harvested and were bare but were a welcomed change from the forest. The road also improved, becoming broader and less ruff, easing their going and allowing them to increase the speed at which they were traveling. Soon the wind was peppered by the smell of salt and sea foam and they heard the wailing of Gulls. Finally, around noon one day, they came to the top of a hill and the sight that greeted them took Jon's breath away.

Below them, surrounded by marshland, lay a great city, a glance it looked to be as big as Altdorf and beyond it lay the sea. Jon could see a harbor which was far larger than the one at White Harbor, with ships of a variety of designs and sizes. Looking at the gates Jon could see a steady stream of people going in and out. The city was clearly an important centre of trade. Jon remembered Ingfried saying that the people of Marienburg would worship a pile of gold if they could and looking at the city Jon could not help but agree with the sentiment. As if summoned by his thoughts Ingfried came up to stand beside him. She looked at the city for a moment and then looked over at Jon.

'There it is, Marienburg.' She spoke in the same slightly stiff formal tone that she had been using since her apology. She continued speaking.

'We should be there before they close the gates for the night. I do not know if Magister Adelman knows that we are coming.

'I know that a message was sent, and his own abilities may have told him that we are coming. However, even if he knows, I doubt that we would be able to see him tonight.' She paused and a look of annoyance came to it.

'Master Julevno says that Magister Adelman was always inclined to pettiness, and I would not put it past him to have us wait simply to spite us and show who is in charge.

'So, when we get into the city, the first thing we should do is find lodging.' Not having anything to contribute Jon merely nodded.

As the caravan picked up its pace. It seemed that everyone, even the animals, were eager to reach the city and bring an end to the journey. They moved down the hill and moved towards the city gates. These were guarded by soldiers armed with spears and crossbows. However, the caravan master rode up to them and after a brief conversation the guards waved them through the gates and into the city.

The smell of fish and the sea were everywhere and to Jon's surprise in addition to streets there were canals filled with craft of all sizes going hither and thither. The sights, sounds and smells were nearly overwhelming. He was not sure that Marienburg was larger than Altdorf, but it seemed to offer more in variety. To focus he turned back to Ingfried as the caravan broke up, everyone going their separate ways.

'So, what do we do now?' She did not look overly impressed by the sights around them, turned back to him. Before she could speak, there was a polite cough behind them. Turning, Jon saw that it was a member of the caravan, one Johan Van Brockmeir whom Jon had spoken to once or twice on the road.

He was an older man, at least sixty or so. He was of medium height, but a life of living well had made him extremely stout. His hair, what was left of it, was gray and slightly oily. He was richly dressed in furs and silks, which Jon had not thought that very practical traveling garb, but had not said anything. From the few conversations that they had had Jon had learned that Brockmeir owned a number of ships and wagons which carried goods throughout the world and it was only due to extraordinary circumstances that he had left his home in Marienburg and had been eager to return home. Even now, it was clear that he was pleased to be here as he seemed to stand straighter and more confidently than he had during their time in the forest.

'Pardon me, My Lord and Lady Wizard, but I could not help but overhear your conversation.' He turned to regard Jon directly.

'It is due in no small part to your valor that I escaped that accursed forest and was able to return home to civilization and I feel that the least that I can do is offer you the hospitality of my home during your stay here.' Jon looked over at Ingfried, who considered it for a moment and then nodded slightly in agreement.

'Exhalent!' Brockmeir exclaimed, sounding quite pleased. He looked past Jon to the nearest canal.

'Ah! Splendid! Here is my barge now!' Looking back Jon saw a large pleasure barge approaching them.

It was made of wood so white that for a moment Jon thought that it had been made from Weirwood. It was trimmed in gilding and the seats on the deck were padded with stuffed cushions. It came to a stop close to them and servants emerged to aid them onto the craft. Brockmeir boarded first while Jon helped Ingfried and her maid aboard, all her guards having died during the battle or afterwards from wounds.

The barge navigated its way through various canals, each turn presented new sights for Jon to witness. There were people seemingly from all parts of the world. There were people with skin pale as milk. There were people with skin of amber and some so dark that they looked like how he had been told the people of the Summer Isles looked. There were more of the dwarfs like he had seen earlier. There were more Ogres like the one from the caravan and more. His gaze; however, was drawn to another group. Here and there were creatures unlike any that Jon had ever seen. At first, he had thought that they were simply unusually tall and slender people, but as they passed some, he saw that this was not the case.

They were tall indeed they stood a head taller than most men and were rather slender though they were not sickly of appearance. Their faces were long and narrow with eyes that glimmered like polished gems. Their ears, instead of being rounded at the top like humans, tapered to points. From what Jon could see they moved with a grace which was almost unworldly. They seemed to float more than walk and glide through those around them. Ingfried observed him staring at them.

'Elves.'

'Elves?' Jon asked. Ingfried sighed.

'Elves. They come from the island continent of Ulthuan. They are an ancient people, far older than the people of the Empire and are arrogant beyond belief.' Coming up beside them Brockmeir nodded in agreement.

'Indeed they are.

'I have had many dealings with them and have always found them difficult, to say the least. They believe that they are superior to us in all ways and never fail to remind us how much wiser they are than us and how they are lowering themselves by dealing with us.' He sighed in exasperation and then took on a philosophical look.

'For all that, they have much to offer us. Their ships bring goods from all over the world, including places their fleets bar to us. So, as insufferable as they can be, there is much wealth to be made trading with them.' Ingfried nodded in agreement.

'It was also the Elves of Ulthuan who taught the people of the Empire how to harness the Winds of Magic and it was the Elf Teclis, High Loremaster of Hoeth who first founded the Collages of Magic.' Jon nodded, though he was not sure of the significance of Teclis's titles, they sounded very impressive. In as strange way they made him think of Old Nan's stories about the Children of the Forest, though Jon would be hard-pressed to think of anything that looked less like the Children of the Forest as they had been described in the stories. Perhaps twenty minutes after they had entered the barge, they arrived at Brockmeir's home, though mansion would be a more accurate description.

There was a mooring site, clearly set aside for Brockmeir's private use. From there flight of steps led up to a gate opening up onto a walled compound. Once they had disembarked from the barge and got through the gate Jon saw that wall encompassed a large and well-maintained garden and several small buildings against the walls. The most impressive sight; however, was Brockmeir's home. It stood three stories tall and from the windows Jon guessed that it had twenty or more rooms. As the canal could easily be seen from the upper story Jon was not surprised to see that the inhabitants clearly had seen them coming come to welcome their master's return.

As they approached the front door it was opened by an exquisitely liveried servant as several more plainly dress servants emerged to help with the luggage. As they were doing so, another figure emerged from house. It was an older man so elaborately dressed that Jon at first assumed that he was a member of Brockmeir's family, until he approached the merchant and bowed to him. From his dress and by the way the other service for him, Jon took him to be Brockmeir's steward. After the bow, the man rose and smiled warmly at Brockmeir. A smiled his master returned.

'Welcome home Sir.' He said in a tone of genuine warmth.

'It is good to be home.' Brockmeir replied as he gave a smile of equal warmth.

'It is good to be home Niles.'

'All one well I hope Sir.' Brockmeir grimaced slightly.

'My business in Altdorf was concluded most satisfactorily, but the journey home from somewhat difficult.' Niles's face took on a concerned look.

'You're not hurt I trust.' He said, a note of anxiety in his voice as he looked Brockmeir up and down. Brockmeir, for his part, waved away is steward's concern.

'Oh, I am quite all right. Although for a while, there was some doubt.' Nile's look of concern became one of mild reproach.

'I told you Sir going on the trip was a bad idea. You have a number of young men working for you who could have undertaken the journey. It was no need for you to risk yourself so.' Brockmeir smiled in a slightly abashed manner and looked away; reminding Jon when he and his brothers have been scolded for not showing proper dedication at their lessons.

'Perhaps you're right, but I am home now all's well that ends well.

'Now, if you are quite done lecturing me, I would like to go inside and get some rest for I'm very tired.' With that he went inside, followed by Ingfried, Jon and the others. Once inside Jon looked about, dazzled by what he saw.

The merchant's home, while not as large as some of the places that Jon had been to, was far more opulently appointed. The walls were white with many portraits and other paintings hanging on them. The floors were covered in expensive-looking carpets and everywhere Jon looked he saw fine furniture. There were bookcases filled with leather bound books. Hanging from the ceiling was a massive golden chandelier which had to have at least fifty candles on its. A stairway of black would and gilded handrails led to the upper stories; where Jon was sure that even more displays of wealth were to be seen. Where Winterfell had been impressive, but subdued and Castle Black had displayed dour strength, Brockmeir clearly intended for his home to leave visitors in no doubt as to the extent of his wealth.

Ingfried did not look overly impressed, but was too polite to say anything or make any overt display of the fact. Jon supposed that was to be expected; she was the daughter of an important family, and he supposed that wizards often interacted with the highborn and so she likely had often seen such wealth as they were looking at now. Jon's thoughts were interrupted by Brockmeir instructing Niles to have Jon and Ingfried shown to two of the guest rooms and have a meal prepared.

Servants led the up the stairs to the second story, Jon noted that they went out of their way to stay as far away from Ghost as it was possible to do so. Jon was not surprised at the fear, though he did note that while the fear was the same as he had seen since coming to this world, the reverence that some had displayed was not seen here. He remembered that Ingfried had told him that the worship of Ulric was rare here in Marienburg and from the look on the servants' faces it seemed that they were very much in the majority here. In an effort to ease their fears as much as possible Jon kept Ghost close to him. Once on the second floor they were led to two adjoining rooms.

Jon's was large, two or three times the size of his quarters at Castle Black. At the back of the room was a large, canopied four-poster bed, one far larger than what he would need. A large window looked out onto the canal and the city beyond; Jon did not even want to think about how much the glass must have cost. Off to one side was a screened off area, a quick inspection revealed a copper washtub, like everything else it was larger than it had to be and spoke of wealth and indulgence. In addition to the bed and tub there was a night table, writing desk and several chairs, all well-made and looked expensive. His father would never have countenanced such spending, it seemed more like something Lord Manderly would do. Still, Brockmeir had offered the hospitality of his home and Jon would not criticize him. Besides, if he were being honest, it was nice to enjoy some comforts after the journey that they had just completed.

One of the servants informed him that water was being heated for him to bath. At his words Jon suddenly became conscious of how worn, dirty and smelly he and his clothing were. He cast a quick look at the floor, looking to see if he had tracked filth over the carpets and rugs. Jon thanked him and the servants bowed and left. He was tired but did not dare sit down lest he soil the furnishings. Instead, he began to pace the room as he went over his situation and what to do next.

He hoped that this Magister Adelman would be able to help, but he was not sure. It did not seem that anyone else knew or even had any clue as to what had brought him here and it seemed unlikely that Magister Adelman would have knowledge of an entire field of study that no else seemed to know even existed. Even if he did, all who spoke of him seemed to think that Magister Adelman's had been more theoretical than anything else. It seemed quite possible that whatever Magister Adelman knew, or people thought he knew, could very well be of no use whatsoever. Jon shook his head firmly in an effort to drive such thoughts away. He must not give into despair before he knew anything more than he did now.

Soon the servants returned with hot water, soap and brush. Jon gratefully removed his clothing, which the servants took away to wash and got in the tub. The hot water seemed to melt away the stress of the journey along with the sweat, dirt and grime. Jon felt his spirits rise as he scrubbed himself with soap and brush. Whatever else the future held he was clean now and soon his belly would be full and he would be spending the night in a clean, soft bed. Once finished he dressed in clean clothing provided for him, a red shirt trimmed with gold thread and black pants and boots. The clothing made him uncomfortable; members of the Night's Watch were not supposed to wear clothing that was not black. He put the thought aside, to refuse might be an insult to his host.

A servant led him down to the first floor where Ingfried and Brockmeir waited for him. They too had bathed and changed into fresh clothing. Ingfried was dressed in blue and white with silver thread. Brockmeir wore a purple and gold shirt and pants. He led his guests to a large dining room in which a large table surrounded by gilt chairs took up much of the room. Upon the table were all manner of dishes. There were soups, fish and other various kinds of seafood as well as meats and roasted and boiled vegetables. There were just as much variety of drink on display. Jon saw at least four or five different kinds of wines available. Brockmeir showed them to their chairs, behind each stood a servant to pull the seat out and then push them in once they were seated. Once this was done, they stood behind to ensure that their plates and glasses remained full. Brockmeir took his place at the head of the table and at his gesture they began to eat.

The food was far better than what was at Castle Black, though a bit rich for Jon's taste. The wines were exhalant, and Jon had to be careful not to drink too much, remembering when he had become drunk when King Robert had come to Winterfell. After they had eaten for around ten minutes or so, the conversation began. Jon was grateful that Ingfried began the conversation, as it was clear that she was more adapt in the art.

'Your family is not joining us?' She inquired of Brockmeir.

'Alas, my wife passed some years ago. My daughter, Gretchen, is married with children of her own now and my son, Henry, is second officer of the trade ship Bounty of Mannan sailing to Tilea and it may be some time until he returns.'

'Has your family always been in shipping?' Jon asked, partially out of politeness and partially out of genuine curiosity.

'Oh, for generations. Shipping, speculations even moneylending at times, although we do not like to speak to much about that. We have always been a hard-working family and as you can see,' He wave a hand to take in the room and the house in general; 'We have not done too badly for ourselves.' Looking around Jon could not help but agree with his assessment. After a moment he turned to Ingfried.

'How soon do you think we will we be meeting with Magister Adelman?'

'Herr Brockmeir was kind enough to lend me the use of a page, whom I used to send a letter to Magister Adelman and let him know that we are here and where we can be found. Hopefully he will send for us soon.' Remembering how everyone who spoke of him described Magister Adelman as petty, Jon was not entirely sure, but he hoped that in this instance it would not be the case.

Conversation dissolved into unimportant topics, many of which Jon did not understand as there were many references to people and places which he did not know of. From what he could glean; however, was that Brockmeir's family did indeed have an extensive trading network which seemed to cover much of the world. Jon was also pleased that, while still slightly stiff, it was easier to talk with Ingfried as they were talking about safe topics. The meal continued until Jon became convinced that he would never want to eat again. At last, feeling both full and sleepy, they made their way back to their rooms. Ingfried looked as if she wanted to say something, but in the end she simply went into her room. Jon stared at her door, wishing that he could find the words to tell her that everything was alright, but no words came and he too simply went to his rooms. Once inside he handed Ghost the meat that he had brought from the meal for him and then went to bed.

The next morning, he rose, as was his habit, before sunrise and quickly dressed. He would have liked to have done some sword exercises, but there was no place to do so. The room was large enough, but he did not think that Brockmeir would appreciate him swinging a sword around in his home. Also, if he were being honest, part of him did not want to. If he did so he would have to look at his longsword and be reminded every time that he did so that he had lost Longclaw. Not only did the lose feel like a betrayal of Lord Mormont's trust, but it was the lose of a tangible link to his home. Shaking off the mood that threatened to overcome him, Jon left his quarters, Ghost at his side. He left the house and led Ghost out into the extensive lawn; allowing the direwolf to deal with his needs and to run off energy which had built up while confined to Jon's room. After a while Jon reluctantly took Ghost back to his room. As he did so a servant knocked at the door. Once Jon opened it the man announced that breakfast was prepared. Hoping that this meal would not be as extensive as dinner had been.

As before the Ingfried and Brockmeir had arrived first and also as before the meal was a feast. While the meal did not appear to be as large as the dinner from the night before; it was far larger than what Jon was used to, either at Winterfell or at Castle Black. It was quickly becoming obvious as to how Brockmeir had become so stout. As they ate, Jon doing his best to moderate his eating, Ingfried looked over and made an announcement.

'Magister Adelman sent a reply this morning while you were exercising your wolf. He expressed great interest and said that he would be quite pleased to speak with us at the College of Navigation and Sea Magicks at our earliest convenience.' She paused and looked up at Jon.

'That being the case, I propose that we go as soon as we have finished eating.' Jon nodded in agreement, his earlier feeling of excitement returning at the prospect of finally getting some answers. He wondered if they would need a barge to get there. Brockmeir seemed to have read his mind.

'Never fear my friend. While it might be faster to go by barge, I believe that you can get most, if not all of the way on foot.' After this statement, they returned to their meal.

It seemed to last forever, and Jon had to force himself not to rush or look impatient as he did not wish to appear rude. At last, the meal came to an end, and they set out. Ghost would be accompanying them while Ingfried's maid would remain behind. Brockmeir walked them to the gate of his lawn and waved farewell as they set off.

'I wish you good fortune with business. My home is yours for as long as you wish to stay.' Ingfried and Jon made appropriate responses and they then continued on their way.

Ingfried had a map of the city and she led them on their way, setting as brisk a pace as the crowded streets would allow. If anything, the streets seemed to be even more crowded than they had been the day before. Fortunately, as before, Ghost proved exhalent at clearing a path for them. People hastily got out of his way, a few even screaming in fear which he ignored. Another piece of good fortune was it appeared that the college was as far away as Jon had expected it to be and in less than an hour, they reached their destination and much of that was due to the time it took them to get through the crowds even with Ghost clearing a path. Jon did not know what he was expected the college to look like, but it was not what he was expecting. It looked very little like the college in Altdorf. That had been a collection of towers within a walled-off area. The College of Navigation and Sea Magicks looked more like a palace. Ingfried seemed to sense his thoughts, as she turned and smiled.

'Looks more like a rich man's home than a place of learning, doesn't it? When Marienburg was still part of the Empire the city was ruled by a line of barons, and this used to be their palace. When one baron's mother, I cannot remember either of their names, died he gave the palace to the university, and they turned it into what we see now.' They went up to the gate guards barred their way. Ingfried produced the letter, and the guards allowed them in and sent one of their number running to alert those within of their arrival. Some time passed and the guard returned accompanied by a man dressed as a servant. As the two men approached, the servant bowed.

'My Lady,' he addressed Ingfried; 'The Magister says that he had received word of your coming and is eager to speak with you. If you and your companion will please accompany me and I shall take you to him.' At a nod of acknowledgement from Ingfried the man turned and headed back the way that he had come, Ingfried and Jon following behind.

He led them to the largest of the buildings, which was as a palatial inside as it was outside and through a seemingly endless array of corridors and hallways. As they walked along Jon kept trying to look at everything that they passed. Everywhere there were paintings on the walls, many of them with nautical themes. There were rich carpets and chandeliers of crystal and gold. Artwork and antiques were on display everywhere and Jon became convinced that the wealth held here was greater than the whole worth of the North. The people present were equal to the settings when it came to displays of wealth. Aside from the guards and servants and even they were dressed in fine clothing and armour, the inhabitants were all dressed in way which would not have looked out of place at a gathering of Westerosi nobles.

All were clothed in silks and velvets accentuated with gold and silver thread. Jewellery was also to be seen in abundance. Also fitting for the nobleness of their appearance were the frequent expressions of superiority and distain. Many of these were directed at Jon, at least until they saw Ghost and looks of derision changed to looks of fear and a desire to get away. Strangely some of the people looked to others before they did anything, and some appeared to make it seem as if they were not frightened by the sight of a giant wolf suddenly appearing in their midst. At last the servant halted before a set of doors and nocked upon them.

'Enter.' Came an elderly, slightly high-pitched voice called from within. At the command, the servant opened the door and bowed them in.

They entered a large room, at least Jon thought that it was a large room. It was so filled with books, charts, and objects whose purpose Jon did not know. Magister Adelman, seated in a chair with a large book in his lap, was not a particularly imposing figure. He was of medium height and build with hair and beard which were more white than black. His most outstanding feature were his eyes; which were bright green and burned with intelligence and inquisitiveness.

'So,' he said in a voice filled with satisfaction and fascination; 'This is the young traveller.' He put the book aside, rose and came up to Jon, circling him and looking up and down with an intensity that made Jon uncomfortable. The man did not seem to even notice Ghost as he continued his examination. Apparently seeing his discomfort, Ingfried came to his rescue.

'Indeed he is, Magister.

'Once we determined that he was indeed from…somewhere else. It was hoped that your research might be of some assistance.' At her words Adelman laughed. It was not a pleasant sound, filled as it was with malicious triumph.

'Ha! So that hidebound old fool Julevno couldn't figure it out and he had to admit that I was right!' Ingfried flushed and looked like that she would like to say something, but she restrained herself.

'Yes, Magister, we would be grateful for any aid that you could give us.' Adelman laughed again but nodded his consent.

'Your master knows me too well.

'Yes, I will help. Both to prove my theories right and to be able to hold it over Julevno till he chokes on all the dust in those crumbling old towers!' With that he motioned Jon to sit, took out ink and paper and began questioning him, asking him all manner of questions.

Did Jon have any memories of traveling here? What was he doing before he came here? Had there been any unusual events beforehand and on and on. Jon tried to answer them, but he was hindered by the fact that Adelman would move on to the next question without giving him the chance to answer fully, or even partially one, before moving on to the next on. Despite his appearance, the man seemed to have boundless energy and the questioning went on for hours. At last, Ingfried again came to his rescue.

'Magister, it is growing late. Perhaps you and I could compile what we have now and refine our investigation.' He, for his part, seemed annoyed at having to stop, but nodded in agreement.

'Oh, very well. Young people, lazy all of them.' This last part was said more to himself than to the Jon or Ingfried. As he gathered his papers she turned to Jon.

'We may be here for some time. It might be better for you to return to Herr Brockmeir's, I shall be along as soon as I can. Can you find your way back?' Jon assured her that he could and took his leave as soon as he could politely do so.

He made his way back to Brockmeir's home; aided by the fact that the streets were now less crowded than they had been earlier. Once there he informed Brockmeir that Ingfried would be there later. Once he had done this, he had a light supper from the kitchen and went to bed, though Ingfried had still not returned. He woke the next morning and was taking Ghost out to exercise when he was informed that Ingfried had not come back the night before. Feeling worried, he made his way back to college as fast as he could.

He arrived to find a large crowd gathered at the entrance. It did not look like they were trying to force their way in; rather it seemed that they were simply curious to find out what was going on inside. Something had clearly happened, and Jon was certain that it was not a good thing whatever it was. He went up to a man standing nearby pushing a cart of sausages.

'Do you know what is going on?'

'Aye. They say there's been a murder.' At his words Jon went numb.

'Do you know who?'

'I heard tell that it were one of the teachers. They some wizard from the Empire killed him as she's gone missing.'