PART II: The Great Game

The Shivering Sea

300 AC

The voyage out of the Bite had been dreadful.

The winds had been against them from the very start, but that hadn't stopped them from making their way out into the Shivering Sea and down along the eastern coastline towards the Vale of Arryn. Once they'd passed by the Three Sisters about a day later, the winds had shifted once again back into their favor. After they'd reached the Fingers, the rest was smooth sailing.

And now, they were hours away from their first destination; Runestone. Mormont had risen early that morning and was gladdened by the cloudless pink sky above them. He would have an easy first day on horseback.

He'd also gotten up early so he could train with Jon and Ned-the latter of whom had asked him in White Harbor to help whip the Lord of Winterfell into proper shape. It wasn't that Ned was out of shape necessarily, either.

"Don't know what could happen," Ned had admitted. "But I want to be absolutely fit just in case something goes wrong in King's Landing. Can you train me the same way Arthur trained you?"

"Of course," Mormont said instantly.

It wasn't easy for Ned at the beginning-he'd not trained as much as Mormont, Arthur, or Jon for that matter, but only because his duties as Lord of Winterfell managed to eat up so much of his time. Mormont didn't blame him. Ruling over the whole of the North was likely far more intensive than Mormont's slices of Bear Island, Sea Dragon Point, and Stony Shore.

But after a few days, Ned seemed to get the swing of his new routine-which involved running laps around the main deck of the Silence, doing at minimum two hundred press-ups, and about an hour's worth of swordplay. Besides that, he'd taken to eating only twice per day, and that was only after he'd trained in the morning. It was something he could do without Mormont or Jon having to intervene, and simple enough to follow up on every day.

Too many masters-at-arms made their training far too complicated for their men-which was a critical mistake that Arthur had once pointed out to Mormont. If the exercises were complicated, they would mentally exhaust the men themselves and reduce their efficiency when it came to doing their jobs.

"You don't need all of these complicated circuits or whatever it is they teach these days," Arthur had shaken his head at the time. "Swordplay is more than enough. So are press-ups, running, and burpees. And so is eating right. All one needs to do is cover the basics." He'd paused. "You think the First Men were eating six times a day? Or were they surviving on sticks and venison without an ounce of fat on their bones?"

He'd been right. Mormont had applied that same lesson when he'd analyzed the kind of men he'd be dealing with. Not just the men-at-arms, but also the lordlings he encountered in his business dealings, or even foreigners from across the Narrow Sea.

Besides Wyman Manderly-who had singled himself out for being cunning and the only business-minded man in the North-Mormont didn't like to do business with men who had gotten fat. Manderly had a proven track record, and wouldn't sell him out for anything since he had his own gold, holdings, and could probably get at least some women to please him in bed. But Mormont would refuse other offers sent his way by Westerlords and Riverlords alike who were out-of-shape. Even some select Reachlords had been rejected because Mormont simply didn't trust them. If they couldn't control what they put in their mouths, how could he trust them when it came down to his gold?

Mormont had set the issue aside by the time they'd moved onto swordplay for that morning. He'd put Ned up against Jon. Though it was clear that Jon was more skilled with the sword by this point-Ned had not trained under the Sword of the Morning for the majority of his life-that did not stop Ned from showing a regular flash of pride in his dark grey eyes.

Especially when Jon had clicked the flat of his blade hard against the pommel of Ned's sword. The dull steel practice sword flashed upwards and out of Ned's hand. Jon caught it with ease.

"Again," Mormont ordered.

Jon handed the practice blade back to his father, who couldn't stop himself from smiling. Ned took the blade and assumed the close-left stance, while Jon had taken the middle-guard stance, holding his blade out in front of him.

As any good father would want, Ned had wanted his own sons to surpass him when it came to combat. This extended to Jon, who Ned saw as his own son rather than just his nephew.

It was a feeling that Mormont was partially envious of. Naturally, Mormont already decided he'd begin training Duncan once he returned from this mission. He already imagined what it would feel like when the day came that Duncan would cleanly knock his sword of out his palm. He looked forward to that day, and the inner pride and happiness it would bring him.

After the swordplay was done, they'd washed by dumping buckets of fresh cold water over their heads and dried off. They didn't eat because they were going to be arriving soon in Runestone, and it was likely they'd be invited for an early luncheon to Runestone Keep by House Royce-as they were quite familiar with Ned due to his time as Jon Arryn's ward.

The Silence had sailed smoothly into the harbor while the other twenty-nine galleys had stayed out further to the Narrow Sea, forming a sort of rugged blockade.

Runestone harbor-albeit much smaller than Frostgate's-was rather elegant in its simplicity. There were about twenty long wooden docksides made of oak wood and sturdy iron bolts. There was a small marketplace just towards the center of the long wooden rectangle where fisherfolk sold their latest catches of haddock, bass, and fresh trout.

From the bow of the ship, Mormont had also seen a long stone road that led up a hill to a village. Plumes of smoke coming from tall chimneys had risen high into the air. And just above them was the mighty fortress on top of the rise-the seat of House Royce.

From top to bottom, it was smooth grey-black stone that was covered in a light dashing of snow. There was a mighty strong wind here due to its proximity to the Narrow Sea, which was clearly visible in real time because of the violently flapping bronze-colored flag upon the tallest tower of Runestone Keep.

Black iron studs on a bronze field surrounded by black runes-the sigil of House Royce. It beamed proudly with the light of the morning sun. Looking rather poetic. Valemen always could make pretty girls swoon.

As soon as they went out onto the dock, Mormont had seen the approaching party of men-at-arms led by the tall stalwart figure of Yohn Royce.

"Bronze Yohn" as he was often called, was also a rather quiet man in person. Despite being Lord of one of the oldest and most powerful houses in the Vale, he preferred to keep to himself. As such, Mormont assumed that both he and Ned had probably gotten along quite well in the past.

His suspicions were confirmed when the tall man smiled first at Ned. "Lord Stark!" Yohn greeted, taking Ned's hand and shaking it firmly. "It is good to see you again after all these years."

"Likewise, Lord Royce." Eddard shook the man's hand just as firmly. "I hope we have not interfered with anything. We should be here only for an hour or two."

"Not at all!" The older man had raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise at Ned's assumption. "We had heard of your appointment and assumed that you would be taking the Kingsroad. But your arrival is as welcome as it is unexpected. Please," He waved to someone behind him. The men-at-arms made way for a rather pretty young woman who held a large silver plate with salt and dark brown rye bread.

Mormont hadn't necessarily felt endangered before, but now he was feeling far more grateful than not because of the small gesture. Despite House Royce's place in the Vale, they were descended from the First Men, and also took Northerner traditions far more seriously. Guest rite was one of them.

Ned had also smiled and dipped the bread in the salt, taking the first bite. So had Jon, and then Mormont.

The walk up to the keep was uneventful, though it was quite pleasant. Mormont had elected to keep quiet and walk behind both Jon and Ned, listening as Yohn Royce gave them the million golden dragon tour of Runestone.

The town wasn't actually the only settlement that they controlled. There were five more scattered along the coast and further into the Vale, each within about five to seven miles in proximity to Runestone Keep. And then there were plenty of fishing huts along the shore, which was why there was so much dock space.

The pretty girl had also turned out to be Ysilla Royce. She was a comely sort of girl, with her back-length pale brown hair and freckled nose. Mormont hid his grin as he noticed her giving Jon more than a few passing looks.

Mormont wasn't nearly surprised when she'd started up a conversation with him as well. She seemed even more determined to get Jon's attention when she noticed his lack of interest in her. Which more or less explained to a woman that she had to compete for a particular man-other were women involved. Mormont would hold back from that one. Unless, of course, he found an opportunity to make Jon look better to her.

Once they'd reached the keep, they'd all gone inside and went straight to the dining hall. It was nice to get out of the cold if only for a little while before Mormont would hit the road once again. Going out through the Vale on an empty stomach also wouldn't be ideal.

Mormont sat down between Jon and Ned at the long oaken table. Across from them were the three Royces; Yohn, Andar-the eldest son-and Robar the Red, Yohn's youngest son. Then there was Yohn's wife, Lady Alyssa, and their youngest daughter, Rhea.

Naturally, Ysilla had chosen to sit next to Jon. Already got her hanging off his every word…

Servants had come out from under the stone archway that led into the kitchens. One of them-a short well-dressed man with squinty blue eyes-had approached the three of them. "Refreshments, my lords?"

"Coffee," Mormont had said almost instantly. "And honey if you have any."

"I'll have the same," Jon smiled.

"So will I," Ned nodded his ascent.

The short man had grinned. "Of course. One large pot for the table and we have some spare jars of honey come in from the Reach." He scribbled the order on his piece of paper. "And for luncheon? We have a roast suckling pig and fish chowder with fresh bacon, onions, salted potatoes, and cream imported from our friends in the Crownlands."

Mormont's stomach rumbled with a foretelling sort of satisfaction. "I'll have some of that."

Neither Jon nor Ned disagreed. They were all hungry from their exercise earlier that morning. What the food was didn't necessarily matter at this point.

The servant bowed and walked back into the kitchens. In a few minutes, he'd returned with a large clay coffee pot and several smaller jars of fresh golden honey. Mugs were brought to them separately.

As Mormont began pouring his first mug of coffee, he'd looked up once he heard his name being mentioned. "-Lord Mormont, I see you're a man who knows what he wants when it comes to food."

Mormont smiled at Yohn Royce. "Food is quite dear to my heart. Can't get enough of it. Especially after I've trained for the day."

The older man raised a bushy eyebrow. "Ah yes, you trained under Arthur Dayne if I remember correctly. I suppose he had a much more rigorous programme than most master-at-arms?"

"Something like that," Mormont answered. Punishing oneself for every mistake they made in the training yard with running laps was not exactly standard issue among guardsmen training, or even for most lordlings.

"What compelled you to enter into those tourneys a few years back?" Robar Royce had asked from his father's left. "I've only heard rumors and stories about them."

Mormont finished stirring his honeyed spoon in the fresh mug of coffee before him. Admittedly, his ego and curiosity and done it for him. "Like what?"

"They say you appeared like the Warrior himself and unhorsed twenty men in the blink of an eye. That you rode down Barristan Selmy as if you were half a horse yourself, and that you cleaved the Mountain-That-Rides in two with a single blow." Robar answered with a knowing grin. "But I know how tourneys work, and how smallfolk talk. How did they really happen?"

Mormont spread his hands and smiled. "The truth isn't nearly as interesting as any of those rumors you've heard, I assure you." He said, raising the rim of the mug to his mouth.

"Is it true you sailed to Valyria?" Andar Royce had asked next from his father's right. The Heir of Runestone was almost the same height but had sprinkled salt and peppery brown hair. "I've only heard whispers from White Harbor, but I've been dying to know."

Sure enough, all conversation at the table had come to a halt. Everyone watched in anticipation of Starag's next answer.

Mormont for his part kept himself ice-cold, remaining completely calm. He sipped at his coffee and found the taste satisfactory. He then lowered the mug carefully and broadened his smile. "I'm sure you'll find out one day, my friend. Right now, I'm sworn to secrecy."

He knew that answer would get on everyone's nerves, making them terribly curious to know the answer. But right now, Mormont just wanted to enjoy the simple pleasures of life and not be interrogated.

Thankfully, his host had recognized this. "I'd be glad to hear of it whenever you are released from your vow, Lord Mormont." Bronze Yohn had said. He then looked to Ned. "But of course, I'm sure you would like to know more about the capital, Lord Stark?"

"If you know something I don't, that is," Eddard said. "Lannisters and Tullys have flooded the city, acting as twin garrisons along with the gold cloaks. That and the Riverlords are getting more aggressive with their raids."

"There's a bit more to it, unfortunately." Yohn sipped his mug of ale. "About a week or so ago, Stannis Baratheon supposedly fled the Red Keep in the night. Got on his ship and sailed right back to Dragonstone without saying so much as a word. Or at least that's what Lord Rykker had said to me in his letter."

Mormont nodded. Renfred Rykker was a good man, and a great host as well. If he'd shared this information with Yohn, then Mormont would take it seriously.

"That doesn't sound like Stannis," Ned frowned. "He was serving as Master of Ships. Don't know why he'd leave the capital so suddenly like that. Not when there are two opposing forces within the city walls."

"I thought the same," said Yohn Royce. "I sent word of this to Lord Robert in the Eyrie. Perhaps he'll raise the banners and send a suitable force to King's Landing to restore order. Gods knows the Tullys and Lannisters need a good smack over the head. Not sure why they sent one of their own to the Vale-they both need sorting if you ask me."

"One of their own?" Jon had broken his conversation with Ysilla Royce and looked over to their host. "One of who?"

Yohn yet again raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You didn't know?" He asked. "Supposedly the Imp had been sent to the Vale by Lord Tywin to help manage relations with House Arryn. Meant to be some type of ambassador or whatnot."

The Imp? In the Vale? Mormont had heard of Tyrion Lannister and had even seen him before at the odd tourney. But he'd never actually met the Dwarf of Casterly Rock. The fact that he was in the Vale-practically hostile territory-was even more surprising. Tywin Lannister must have really wanted Robert Arryn to believe he had nothing to do with his father's death.

Because the alternative would've been a full-scale war. And the Lannisters were more likely to receive help from the Ironborn than be spared from the blame for Jon Arryn's death. Regardless of the reasoning, most of the nobility feared and resented House Lannister, far more than they would the Tullys.

That, and having not just the Riverlands, but also the Vale and potentially even the North bearing down on him-and it was well-known at this point that the North also had strong ties with the Reach. Besides that, Dorne was just waiting for the Lannisters to make a single mistake. From Tywin's point of view, he'd need to play a very careful sort of chess game.

Sacrifice the Bishop. Mormont thought to himself. That was likely the move Tywin made when he placed his youngest son in the Vale to act as an ambassador. That would quell the Lords of the Vale and potentially the North as well, giving Tywin the time he needed to deal with the Riverlords.

"Interesting," Eddard said, giving Mormont a sideways glance. "Thank you for telling me this news, Lord Royce."

"Of course, Lord Stark." The older man dipped his head with a smile.

Food had arrived then, and all serious talk of current events had ceased. Now, Mormont contented himself on the thick fish chowder served to him in a fine porcelain bowl and the fresh chunks of haddock and seasoned potatoes within. It would warm his belly for the upcoming journey through the mountains of the Vale.

And what a journey it was turning out to be…

Mormont had tested the sling across his backside by pulling on Tempest's shaft. The black boiled leather had held perfectly fine. He'd gotten it from Fuldar, the castle blacksmith in White Harbor. One of these days, Mormont would need to bring on a good high-quality blacksmith into his own household.

He'd placed his other belongings onto the back of his saddle. Fresh clothes, a tent, and other provisions and supplied. Bear could hold the weight through the mountain pathways.

He'd taken his old battered Map of Westeros in his coat pocket as well. And the food that he and the two men-at-arms he'd be taking along with him-Jorge and Orin-would need on their journey was the burden of the extra packhorse. Largely, it consisted of dried beef, fish, and stale bread. The classic survivor's diet.

"If it's not out of the way, find out what you can from Robert Arryn." Eddard had said. "He might know something we don't about this whole charade."

Mormont nodded. "I'll see what I can do." He smiled at both Jon and Ned. "See you both in the capital in a few weeks' time, then. This trip to the Eyrie might hold me up a few days."

"See you then, Starag." Ned held out his hand. Mormont shook it firmly.

"Don't take too long," Jon snickered. "Wouldn't want to find out you've been chased out of the Vale for taking another man's wife."

Mormont shook his head and laughed. "Bah! It's you who needs to watch out, what with you making these young ladies swoon just from them looking at your hair." He shook the younger man's hand as well. "I'll be fine, though."

Without another word, he mounted his horse and gestured for Jorge and Orin to follow. They both gave him toothy grins and nodded, clicking their feet forward with their spurs. He waved back behind him and both Jon and Ned in farewell. For now, that is.

Soon enough, as he led the way up the stone-laden trail towards the mountain passage, the view of the mighty Runestone Keep faded into the distance, and the fleet of ships in the bay turned and began sailing away out to the Narrow Sea.

Now, in the early afternoon glow of the sun, Starag Mormont was out wandering the great wide realm of Westeros with only two men-at-arms and four horses between all three of them.

On the road again. He thought to himself. Slowly, an eager smile spread across his face. Let's make it a good one.