YEAR 300
BRANDON I
Bran hated his Old Tongue lessons more than anything in the world. The Maester Lodkar on the other hand was more interesting than the lessons he taught, he was the first skagosi to become a maester and he knew many interesting stories. His grandfather, King Rickard VIII, had made peace with Skagos and it was now possible to see skagosis roaming freely in the North.
Even so, the Old Tongue and its runes were complex. His grandfather intended for the North to regain its culture, which had made him popular with those who denounced his southern ambitions. Since then, the North no longer had lords but magnars, even his grandfather liked to call himself kóngur instead of King.
"Fysten min", said Maester Lodkar, who used to talk to him only at Old Tongue during his lessons.
"Not today, Lodkar", said Grand Maester Luwin. "The king wants to talk to his family."
Unlike Lodkar, Luwin was not a staunch Old Tongue enthusiast. The Grand Maester was born in Wintertown and was not what the Skagosi called, a true northerner, although Bran knew few were. Since Skagos was part of the North, its inhabitants had become something of a role model for the whole kingdom.
For many it had come as a surprise that the Skagosi weren't wilds. The truth was that they looked a lot like the clans of the mountains and even traded regularly with the ibbenese. In the past they resented House Stark, rebelling against Winterfell during the reign of Daeron II, causing the death of Lord Barthogan Stark.
Since then, they were granted some privileges, such as building ships, a right they had lost in the time of Brandon IX. Such privileges connected them to Ibben, Braavos and White Harbor, who spread vile rumors about the island to protect their trade deals from the rest of the world.
"Bran!" announced his grandfather with joy when he arrived at his rooms. Next to him was his second wife, Maege Mormont. "It's nice to have you here."
It didn't take long for the others to arrive. Robb, Sansa, Arya and little Rickon, but also their parents and the king's other children. Bran loved them all, Lyra, Jorelle and even Jon Snow, his grandfather's natural son.
"Well family, now that we are together, I want to make an announcement.
Bran was surprised that despite his age, his grandfather was still an imposing man.
"Tell us, father", replied his father, the prince Eddard.
"Jon Arryn, your adoptive father, has died. King Robert has appointed Magnar Yohn Royce as Hand of the King."
Bran noticed how his father's face was saddened. He had always spoken of his childhood at the Valey and his friendship with King Robert. Sometimes his father used to deny his title of prince, as if he did not feel worthy of him. Bran couldn't understand why he did it, from his point of view, his father would be the best Winter King.
"Are the Royces First Men?" His aunt Jorelle asked, surprised that his grandfather called a southerner magnar.
"Yes, my dear", replied her grandfather. "The Royces are just like us. King Robert has made a good choice."
"I agree", replied his father.
"As long as Bronze Royce is Hand of the King, we need not fear for war."
"Don't exaggerate, Father", his father replied, and Bran was afraid they would argue again.
"You have to accept it, Ned", replied Grandpa. "We are now independent. King Robert may be your friend, but King Joffrey will not be your friend, I want you to promise that if Robert's sons try to invade the North, you will attack them mercilessly."
"Father..."
"No ifs and buts, Ned. I made you a magnar of Moat Cailin to protect the North. So far you have done well, but keep it in mind, we are different from southerners as we are different from ironborns."
His father nodded, this time there were no arguments.
"Well, now that we're talking about the South, let's talk about the real North. My Kanslari has informed me that Watch's has made peace with Mother Mole and that Hardhome can now be considered a city."
Bran had heard legends about Hardhome and its destruction hundreds of years ago, legends that fascinated him. However, those days were long gone and since the founding of the Black Bank by Lotho Rogare many savages had become sedentary. Among them, a group led by a Woods witch.
Grand Maester Luwin insisted that magic did not exist, yet Mother Mole was said to have the gift of prophecy. Alas, no maester had ever tried to meet the savage leader.
"The tenth free city", Robb said.
"Maybe so", replied Grandpa. "In the past only the Thenns could be considered civilized, today we can add Hardhome to the list. Although it seems that she will become a new Norvos to be ruled by a witch."
"Do you want to rule the lands beyond the Wall, Father?"
Bran could see the anger in his grandfather's eyes.
"Everyone comes out, except you, Ned."
And so it was done. No one dared to disobey an order from the Winter King. Outside the rooms waited the Magnar Ondrew Locke, Kanslari of the kingdom and cousin of his grandfather Rickard. He exchanged words with his mother and the queen, words Bran didn't hear because Robb took him away.
Bran didn't want to leave, he wanted to stay and talk to the adults. He was already ten years old, at his age the children of the common people had more work than Robb. Even so, they continued to treat him as if he were a helpless child.
"Your Highnesses", said a skagosi at Old Tongue, bowing somewhat forced.
"Greetings, High Magnar Tordar. Do you like Winterfell?"
"It's very different from Kinghouse, but it's not bad. In any case it is good to be here as a friend and not as an enemy. By the way, do you want to see a rhinoceros?"
"A what?" asked Brandon.
"This is what you call unicorns. I don't know why, I don't see them looking much like horses."
Tordar Humri* was the magnar of Kingshouse and the High Magnar of the Skag Islands, or Skageyjar as they called them. The largest of these was Skagos and was the seat of the Humri, the Crowl and the Stane; there were also clans in Skane and Skessos, but he didn't remember their names. They were all amazing to Bran, as they seemed as strong as the men of the Age of Heroes.
"It will be an honor", Robb replied.
The man took them to one of the courtyards, where three of those beasts that man called rhinos rested. They were hairy like the mammoth illustrations in the library books, and while they were bigger than a horse, they weren't as big, being rather short and fat.
Seeing their horn Bran realized why they were called unicorns. They boasted a prominent horn over the tip of their snout, with a smaller horn behind the large one. They looked like fearsome beasts, but the High Magnar Tordar swore to them that they were meek if they were not disturbed.
"They're impressive", Bran announced.
"They are", he replied proudly. "We sell their horns at a very good price, the ivory made Skagos rich and allowed us to populate Skane and Skessos."
Ivory was one of the riches of the North, the Grand Maester had told him. It was a highly prized commodity in distant Essos.
"And what brings you to Winterfell, Hight Magnar Tordar?"
"Pigs."
"Pigs?
"Yes. Long ago my father made a deal with Ibben to import these pigs. They adapt very well to the cold and have saved us from starving in the winters, in addition their woolly skin serves as a shelter. Your grandfather wants to extend them to the North, just like Night's Watch did for the Gift."
"My uncle Benjen is part of the Watch", Brandon said.
"I know, he's good friends with my nephew Bolegg. They have made many advances with Free Folk, they discovered that trade brings peace. We Skagosi discovered long ago that we could not fight forever with Winterfell and since then we live better."
"Of course you do", said a man with silver hair and violet eyes.
"Magnar Rogare", Robb replied. "Why do I owe the honor of having a Black Bank representative visit Winterfell?"
"I'm sorry it's a private matter, my prince. A matter that I can only discuss with the King."
Bran felt slighted once again. Although he was also intrigued, what was so important that only his grandfather could be talked to?
Notes
*To avoid saying Magnar Magnar, I decided that the Magnar House of the canon would be renamed Humri. Humri means "lobster" in Icelandic, a language from which I am drawing inspiration for the Old Tongue. I will not develop in language, but if I give a few single words, they will be from Icelandic.
