Lorni strode confidently out of the Lodge, the aftereffects of the time-stretching trance fading quickly. When he'd volunteered to join this class of Maia's, he had figured it would be as useless as Symon's attempts to teach writing.

It wasn't anything against the old man, but he was a southernor and a Crow besides. When he'd tried to teach writing, back after Wyck had pulled him out of the snow and he'd recovered from the fever from his maiming, the maester had an insufferable attitude. After a moonturn of trying, they'd all decided that he was more useful as a healer than a teacher.

Leaning up against the wall, Lorni took a deep breath. It was growing colder today, and the sky had clouded over in the time they'd been in the lodge, however long that truly was. It was hard to tell, even with the experience he'd had prior. As the moments passed, the memories of his time in Maia's class fell together, until finally it seemed as though it had only been a few hours.

Those who were part of the so-called planning group seemed to handle it much more readily. Already, Herrick was making japes and moving on as though nothing had happened. Those like Lorni, who'd only been a participant on a few occasions, were the next to recover, while those who'd never been a part of it before were still uncertainly looking around in confusion.

He shook his head, shaking loose his sluggish thoughts. At least Maia was a better teacher than Symon. She reminded him of how his father had taught him how to hunt, working at his own pace, making sure that Lorni really understood before moving on to the next. Then, there were the many occasions where those who were further advanced would help those lagging behind. He'd not understood why at first, though he'd quickly found trying to teach others helped him better understand the topic at hand.

Still, he wasn't entirely sure what the point of it all was. They'd lived well enough without needing to know their letters and numbers, and he didn't think he'd ever really bother using them anyway. Really, it was the thought that they were learning what was kept special for the kneeler lords that convinced him to go along with it in the first place, and he figured a couple of hours was worth that amusement.

"Lorni," a voice he knew well drew him out of his thoughts. Teagj leaned up against the wall next to him, "I'm getting some people together to go out and bring some more folks back. Could use you if you want to come along."

"May as well," Lorni shrugged, "Been getting too comfortable lately anyway."

The Chieftain grinned, "Aye, a warm place to sleep at night, warm clothes, and warm food? Making us soft, it is. Well, we're packing light and going upriver." His grin turned to a frown, "Don't spread this around, but last time we were out, four of the five villages we checked were empty. She told me about Han's Ford, said it was empty aside from a wight that ambushed her, and we stopped there. It was like she said, and we found the body in the snow, cut nearly in two." He dragged a finger across his chest from the right, stopping over his heart. "You saw what that blade of hers did to the slavers, and that cut was the same."

Lorni grimaced, "And the other villages?"

Teagj shook his head, "No dead, walking or otherwise, just empty. Like no one had lived there for years. Most everything that could be taken was gone, so we figure they picked up and left, but…" He shrugged, "It's damn eerie. So, we're going to check up with whoever's still living on the river, anyone we can find. Bring them back here."

"More mouths to feed," Lorni said, "But better alive than taken by the Others."

Teagj clapped him on the shoulder, "Good man. We'll head out tomorrow morning."

They were interrupted by Maia walking out of the Lodge, a small group of people walking with her. Symon, Grenwin, and the others that were closer to the witch than anyone else. She broke off whatever she was saying to the Crow to give Lorni and Taegj a thankful nod.

"Thanks for coming to the class," She said, "I know it's not something usually done, and I appreciate the effort given."

Lorni still didn't know what to make of her. He'd outright accused her of the worst kinds of magic, tried to stir up others against her, and she didn't even seem to remember he'd done it. She just treated him like anyone else, and he couldn't tell if she held a grudge or not.

"Aye, well, thought I'd see what it was about," he replied after a moment's hesitation, "Suppose it was worth it."

He could feel Taegj's smirk, even without looking at the man. "Whaddaya think those lordlings below the wall would think if they heard we knew our letters as well as any of them? Couple more days of that, ain't that what you said?"

The witch made some sort of gesture with her hand, holding it level before her and wobbling it from side to side. "Maybe more than that. I, ah, underestimated how much work it is. But hey, by this time next year, you'll probably be the most educated people in the world!"

Symon grimaced, pressing his lips to a thin line. Lorni didn't think she was saying it in jest, but it was hard to tell given how often she said something mad and followed it with a laugh. She wasn't laughing now, but she was smiling, and he'd learned that probably meant she didn't mean it seriously.

She waved towards the wheelhouse she'd built. "Anyway, we've a lump of iron to take apart. Don't suppose either of you have any experience extracting metal from stone?"

He and Taegj shared a glance, "No, but if you need a couple more hands, we can help out." Lorni figured that this was probably something it'd be damn useful to know. Most metalwork above the Wall was done by the Thenns, and they rarely traded away their bronze.

Besides, Maia would explain everything being done to take the iron out of the ore, at least if he asked. Writing might not be useful, but this was what the southernors did, and iron weapons taken during raids below the Wall was a precious resource.

The Chief shook his head, "I've got other things to be about today." He said it bluntly, and Lorni thought it was a challenge to see if she'd press the matter.

"Alright, that's fine." She said, oblivious to the subtle challenge.

They were still getting a feel for her, figuring out how far she thought the title of Queen Beyond the Wall meant for authority. Little challenges like these would drive any kneeler lordling into a rage, Lorni figured, given how they overreacted to simple raids. Instead, she took things in stride, almost as well as any wildling. Granted, she never bared a weapon to an insult or a challenge. Considering that he'd watched her rip an elder tree out of the ground by waving her arms at it, roots and all, he was genuinely thankful for that.

Her reaction to the Taking of that hornfoot woman had scared the piss out of him, and he'd been absolutely certain for a moment that she was going to rip Yalt apart like that she'd done to that tree. Even those that hadn't witnessed that had been terrified, but after what she'd said had finally sunk in, everyone had mostly relaxed. Exile, she'd said, not death by witchery.

Taegj leaned in to whisper in his ear, "Tomorrow morn, remember." The older man gave Lorni a clap on the shoulder before walking away.

Lorni fell in with the group as they walked, listening to the witch-queen say nonsense. Whatever a mechanical or a chemical was, he didn't know, but from the way Symon nodded and replied with words just as arcane made him think it meant something.

Whatever he'd expected of making iron, he'd not expected to be handed a hammer and told to smash charcoal into small chunks. He, Herrick, and Grenwin worked on that for what seemed like hours as Symon and Maia put together what they called a bloomery furnace. Part of him wondered why the witch didn't just break up the charcoal like she was the iron, shredding the large boulder sitting near the forge into fine particles. Then again, whatever she was doing with that seemed to be taking a while, and they'd managed to break down enough charcoal to form a sizeable pile by the time half the ore was rendered down.

She had them mix the charcoal and rock-sand together, pour a good amount into the top of the furnace, and light the bottom before sealing it, leaving a small hole. After that, it seemed to take a little while before a small gout of fire began to emit from the furnace top and deep orange glow from the air-hole.

For hours, they kept beating charcoal, mixing it with the mineral sand, and pouring it into the top of the furnace. It was fascinating to watch as the contents gradually rendered down over time, making room for more of the fuel mixture, and Lorni was reminded of the way ice seemed to melt. He'd look away, and looking back a few moments later, the charcoal level had fallen just a touch.

The flame itself was fascinating, turning nearly translucent with only traces of orange tinting it. It was burning hotter than anything he'd felt before, even standing feet away.

Finally, after the sun had very nearly fallen beneath the treetops, the witch was satisfied. She bade them all to stand back, while Symon doffed a heavy set of leathers. He picked up a set of large tongs, made of stone like it seemed many of Maia's latest creations were, and nodded his readiness.

In a moment, the bottom of the furnace cracked, and a thin stream of orange light dripped from the newly formed hole.

"Just slag," Symon said, answering their unasked question, "Open it wider so I can pull out the charcoal."

The hole widened further, peeling back like Lorni would skin a rabbit. Symon reached in with the tongs, pulling out charcoal onto the ground. Steam rose from the soil, and tiny fires flickered around the stream of liquid. The heat was intense, enough to make them all step back, and Lorni could clearly make out the sweat beading the back of Symon's balding head.

He rifled around the bottom of the furnace with the tongs, finally pulling out a hunk of material, glowing orange with edges cooling to black in the chill air. He laughed, "Aye, we've got some bloom here." Picking up the chunk with his tongs, he brought it over to the great hammer.

The witch moved over to the set of levers sticking out of a large box set near the wall, waiting for Symon to give the word. At the Crow's order, she pulled a lever and the hammer fell with a great thump, chunks of the bloom splattering away. Wasting no time, Symon turned it about with the tongs, rotating it and beating it down using the timing of the hammer.

They watched in rapt attention as they worked the bloom long after the sun fell, finally resulting in a mostly even bar of a dark coloration, about as long and wide as Lorni's hand, and twice as thick.

"Moment of truth," Symon said after putting down the tongs and taking a small hammer in hand. He leaned over the bar, turning his head to listen as he struck it time and time again, finally grunting in approval. "Aye, it's been wrought well, and it's pure enough for tools." A grin broke out on his face, "Tis iron for true."

Lorni was quiet for a moment, disbelieving. It seemed the others were just as stunned, and all at once cheers broke out. Even the witch clapped, beaming happily. The lodge was one thing, but this? Lorni knew that even if Symon and Maia were taken from them, everyone else had watched how it had been done. Even if they couldn't crush the ore as finely, they could break it as well as they could, and finding more was just a matter of finding rocks that matched what they had. The bloomery, he figured they could make of clay, especially if they only needed it whole for a single use. They already knew charcoal, and crushing it finely wasn't difficult to remember.

Oh, he knew there was more to learn about how it was done, but they'd enough now to figure it out on their own.

They made their way back to the Lodge, just in time for the evening meal. News of what they'd managed was spread around, and it seemed everyone had some idea of what to do with the iron. Tools, weapons, armor, all manner of useful trinkets. Even if they were still behind what the kneelers were capable of, there was a very real feeling that they had the chance to catch up now, as long as they weren't killed by the Watch, or taken by the Others.

However it ended up shaking out, it was cause for celebration now. Lorni lamented the lack of good drink, the fermented sheep's milk Ellir's people had brought not having lasted more than a few days.

Even without drink, the Lodge seemed full of life. He clapped along to the song of Bael the Bard that a few people performed together, laughed uproariously with many others at an impromptu sumo match, and partook of the generous portions of roasted elk and daystew.

Why not celebrate, he thought, We live another day, and isn't that enough for anyone?

Lorni figured it ought to be, and he figured most everyone here probably thought the same thing. He'd head out with Taegj in the morning, and when they returned, they'd celebrate all the harder.

Eventually, things wound down, people seeking rest after a long day. The fires were tamped down, braziers extinguished, and a night watch set. Lorni had no trouble falling asleep after wrapping himself up in his bedding, fulfilled after another good day.

***

Nakanos Iranys stood on a high balcony, sipping a goblet of chilled pear brandy and watching the sun set over his city of Myr.

A day put to good use, he mused, tapping beringed fingers against the finely carved marble balustrade. Varoros had been amenable to joining his bloc, and Nakanos was certain that he'd be able to make his play on the Triarchy within the year.

"This will be yours, if you've the ability to take it. Nothing is beyond our reach."

His father's final lesson to him, and one that Nakanos had taken deeply to heart. His father's father had been a mere sellsword, his father a reputable merchant, and Nakanos himself?

"Magister Iranys?" A melodic voice spoke from the doorway leading to his study.

Magister Iranys. He'd taken what he desired, and he'd never stop so long as he lived.

Turning, he regarded the young woman who interrupted his musings.

She was slender, a head shorter than he, and possessed the classical Valyrian beauty, barely marred by the slave's tattoo above her right eye.

"Yes, Saryl?" He spoke calmly, confident that his favored servant wouldn't interrupt him without good cause.

"Master Sanyr has returned, Magister. He's been shown all courtesy and is relaxing in the Laester room."

Her voice was steady, a far cry from when he'd first purchased her. His staff had trained her well, and Nakanos was certainly pleased that his investment had not gone to waste.

"Very good," he replied, striding past her as she moved aside deferentially. She fell in behind and beside him, the very image of the ideal master servant, as he set a good pace to the drawing room where his brother awaited.

Nakanos could admit to himself that he was curious as to why Adaro had returned to Myr so early. He'd not expected him for another two months at the very least, but there were many potential causes for the expedition to have been aborted. Tainted food, unexpected resistance from the savages, sickness, the list went on. That his brother had returned, that he was alive, implied it was a minor issue that could be rectified in the future.

He halted before the grand doors to the smallest and most personal drawing room of his manse, Saryl opening them and bowing as he passed.

"Captain Sanyr!" Nakanos spoke with genuine cheer as he approached the high-backed chairs before the wide window, "Welcome back to Myr."

A figure stood from where he had been reclining, and Nakanos almost stopped in surprise. The man was gaunt, haggard, lanky hair and patchy beard making him almost unrecognizable. While it was most certainly Adaro, Nakanos had never seen the man affected so greatly.

"Magister Iranys," Adaro spoke warmly, and Nakanos was relieved that his brother's voice was still strong and confident.

He stepped forward, arms outstretched, and embraced his dearest friend. "It's good to see you safe and hale, Adaro."

Captain Sanyr, Adaro, returned the embrace with warmth. "Truly, it is good to be back among the civilized."

Nakanos gave a firm squeeze with his arms before releasing the haggard man, giving a short sniff and theatrically wincing. "Well, we civilized peoples do tend to bathe. Been among the savages for too long, eh?"

Adaro chuckled, "I hadn't known your sensibilities had grown so delicate! What happened to the man who rubbed himself down with horseshit as a, what was it you called it, a disguise?"

Nakanos brushed his hands down the front of his fine cotton doublet, "It worked, didn't it? Got those Lyseni right where we needed them to be."

Grinning, Adaro nodded, "I can still see the look on that smug bastard's face when he heard the crossbows loose." The gaunt man nodded towards the low table, a mug and pitcher sitting on a tray. "Your staff is excellent as always. Your hospitality is always appreciated."

Nakanos smiled, "Pride of Myr, I say. You know you're always welcome under my roof, my brother." He gestured to the chairs. "Please, let's relax. You look as though you surely need it! Tell me of the expedition, first. You've returned early and I hope no great trouble has befallen you."

They sat, Adaro scratching his unkempt chin with his left hand, letting the comment on his appearance go. "Trouble of a kind, yes. Let me begin at the beginning of the journey."

Nakanos nodded, waiting as the other man gathered his thoughts.

"It began well. We had fine weather sailing across the Narrow Sea and had little trouble sailing north along the Westerosi coast. We did encounter what we thought to be a Braavosi privateer early but were able to evade after it made no moves to pursue."

Nakanos pursed his lips. The Braavosi were a thorn in his side at the best of times, and there had been some concern that Adaro's vessel would be intercepted by them. If he had, the man and his crew would surely have had to fight the Braavosi off, lest they take his ship for their own.

"Good that they were of no issue, then." He murmured, pouring himself a cup of cool water from the pitcher.

Adaro nodded, "Quite. I believe we would comport ourselves well against common pirates, and the Braavosi are little better. Better to not have had to test those waters." He paused, "Our supplies were adequate for the cold further north, but we will need warmer clothing if we are to make another expedition. We needed to layer our clothing, and it hampered us rather badly."

Nakanos nodded, "We can address that later, my friend. Do continue."

"Yes, well. We sailed along the coast and discovered a rather sizeable peninsula that projects from the mainland into the Shivering Sea, and at the end of that peninsula, we found a natural bay. We had to weather there for a few nights, and the local forest seemed devoid of the savages. Hunting was plentiful, and I believe it would make an excellent waystation." He sipped his water, "I believe it to be Hotar's bay, as the description matches nearly perfectly. The cliffs above the bay held a great number of caves, as Hotar described, that howled as the wind blew."

Nakanos thumbed his chin thoughtfully, remembering the centuries-old memoirs of the Pentoshi magister-turned-explorer. "Yet Hotar described an island, did he not?"

Adaro shrugged, "Could have been that he didn't sail south enough to realize it was a peninsula. The gulf beyond is quite wide, easily three days of sailing before the eastern shore becomes visible after leaving Hotar's Bay. The mapmaker you lent has been working on putting our discoveries to parchment."

"Very good. What of our primary goal?" Nakano inquired, eager to get to the thrust of the matter. Yet, as Adaro set down his water, he noticed for the first time that he seemed short a finger. "What happened to your hand?"

Adaro's eyes turned hard and flinty, glimmering with a passion Nakanos had rarely seen from the man these last years. He held his hand out, clenching the remaining fingers, staring at the empty space.

"An abomination. We had found the wide river Hotar described, sailing half a day upriver and establishing camp on the southern bank." He grimaced, "Our scouts returned after a sennight, having found several smaller groups of savages and a much larger band. We took several from nearby groups, six and ten in total, with no casualties."

"A fair number," Nakanos murmured. Malabar hadn't been wrong that those untouched lands held a great wealth, especially given how much more such exotics went for in the circles Nakanos travelled.

Adaro nodded with a dark expression. "Yes. It had appeared that we would face no great resistance so long as we held an advantage in numbers. However…" He trailed off, staring at his missing appendage.

"We encountered something horrific. A small settlement of savages on the banks of the river, one that seemed an ideal target with little in the way of defenses. I had thirty good men with me when we made our approach."

Nakanos was listening intently, setting aside his drink and watching his brother's face, noting the intensity of his shifting expressions.

"It started ideally, our appearance clearly surprising them. If they had any defensive plans, they were not apparent as the brutes merely gathered together to fend us off." Adaro sneered, "I noted several who carried unstrung bows and threw them aside for wooden knives."

Nakanos gave a short laugh, "Brutes, indeed."

"We approached slowly, careful to not present too great a threat and luring them to assault us. They acted as we expected, and our crossbowmen were quick to send bolts into those that seemed the greatest martial threat. That… Yes, that was where things went wrong."

Leaning forward, Nakanos was intrigued. "Wrong?"

Adaro nodded, "Yes. The abomination, the… Demon, for I can think of no word that better describes what I witnessed, revealed itself. It bore the skin of a girl, and with a mere touch returned the dead to life. The first brute that fell came to his feet as though nothing had happened. The battle was still in our favor, as far as I could determine, and we had managed to separate several of the savages from the mass."

His eyes stared at something far beyond the walls of the drawing room as he spoke, "The demon bore a blade that cut with no resistance. Not even Valyrian steel will cut through a man's arm without being caught on bone, and yet the demon's did so with no apparent effort. It wasn't even swung. The abomination fell forward, blade aloft, and it cut through men as easily as it cut through the wooden shafts of our mancatchers. I was working to subdue one of the savages we'd separated from the others when it rushed at us. My crossbow was handy, and I was able to loose a bolt right into the thing's breast, and yet it kept coming. Then… It put a hand on my shoulder, and the next thing I knew I was somewhere else."

"That is… Disturbing." Nakanos said in near disbelief. Adaro would not lie to him, and if he spoke, he spoke the truth as he knew. That alone was why Nakanos did not dismiss such a fantastic tale.

"Disturbing is one way of describing it. I was in one of their hovels, stripped nude and with the abomination kneeling next to me, it's hand on my shoulder. Try as I might, I could not move a single muscle." Adaro's gaze turned haunted, "I cannot begin to tell you how it feels to be unable to move anything and yet be aware. Not even my eyes would obey me, stuck staring forward." He shuddered in remembrance of genuine terror.

Nakanos remained silent, letting his friend gather his thoughts. It clearly took Adaro a great effort, and he was loath to interrupt.

"It spoke in barely comprehensible Westerosi Common. It… Asked if I knew what it said, and in the next moment I was able to move my eyes and mouth, but only those. It plied me with questions, and when I refused… Nakanos, I felt it controlling me like a mummer's puppet, my arm moving to it's whims and not my own. I watched as my hand rose, and my fingers fell off. They just fell, with no pain, no blood, only seamless skin where they once sat. Look!"

Adaro held his hand out for Nakanos to examine, and the magister leaned forward to look. Yes, the man's skin where his finger used to be was whole and unbroken, bereft of the scarring he'd seen on others that had been maimed.

"It was my index and thumb that fell, and you can see that there is nothing wrong with the thumb. It made me look over at the others that had been captured, all in the same position I was, eyes closed as if deeply asleep."

Nakanos turned Adaro's hand over, looking closely at the man's thumb and where it joined his hand. As his brother had said, there was truly nothing to indicate anything had happened to it. Yet, while his tale was unbelievable, his finger was missing in a way he'd never seen before.

Adaro continued, "It returned my thumb to me, and then… It was like during the battle, time seemed to skip forward. Suddenly, the hovel was full of raving savages, and I still could not move. I thought they would kill us right then and there, but they did not." He paused, "They told us to walk to the Wall, without clothes or supplies. So, we walked, expecting an arrow to the back at any second."

He lifted his leg, pulling off his boot. "I lost a few toes to frostbite, and it wasn't long before I couldn't continue. I remember stumbling in the snow, laying at the base of one of those peculiarly carved trees, watching as my ever so loyal crewmates didn't even give me a glance, let alone stopping to help."

Nakanos was deeply concerned now, "How is it you still live?"

Adaro shrugged, "I don't know. One moment, the snow seemed a warm blanket and I was falling into a comfortable sleep, and the next I was wrapped in some sort of fur blanket laying near a warm fire. There was a man, wearing the black of the Night's Watch, but his features were covered by a hood. It seems unbelievable, as those rangers tend to fight to kill us on sight, so I figured the man didn't know who I was. He was alone, and though I thought he was waiting for his compatriots, none came. He spoke little, even as he fed me. His hands, though… I thought he wore black gloves, but as my vision recovered, I saw they were uncovered, but turned black and cold like a frozen corpse."

Nakanos blinked in surprise, "What magic is this?"

"I know not, and the man had not the look or bearing of a Qarthi mage to him. Something unique to those frozen lands, perhaps. Still, I owe my life to his intervention. After I'd recovered sufficiently, he assisted me back to the camp, and yet he refused to allow himself to be seen by the crewmen. After that, I waited until the scouts returned and ordered that we sail home. No trouble on the return journey, and the product is still safely ensconced aboard."

Leaning back, Nakanos regarded his brother. His appearance lent credence to a difficult experience, and fantastical as the story was, Nakano couldn't detect any deception in the other man's bearing.

"Well. Well! That is quite a tale. You're home and safe, and that is what is most important. I'll take possession of the product you've captured, and it shouldn't be long before it sells for a fine price." Nakanos said, forcing joviality into his voice.

Adaro nodded, "Good. We should discuss another... Expedition."

Nakanos was momentarily surprised, but Adaro wasn't the type to let an experience like that stop him. "Yes, I suppose so. What of this abomination you spoke of? I should hope you will steer far clear of its territory."

The gaunt man clenched his fists, "No. We will kill it, destroy those it has tainted. I watched it bleed, and if it bleeds, it can die."

"My brother, is that wise?" Nakanos asked soothingly.

"Wise? Perhaps not, but it is necessary." Adaro spoke with passion belying his appearance, "A threat like that will hamper any expeditions to come, and so we should take care of it early and clear the way. Its roost on the river is a problem should we attempt to sail inland, and other groups of the brutes will be close to the water."

Nakanos nodded slowly, "You are not wrong, but I fear that with the capabilities you have described, this abomination will not be easily rooted out. Is there truly no other path inland?"

Adaro shook his head, "Not that we found. That one river is the only major waterway we could find before the icebergs became too much a threat to sail further north. No, if we want any long-term presence with reach inland, we will need to secure the river."

Nakanos stroked his clean-shaven chin, "Unfortunate. I trust you, my brother, and I trust your judgement in this. Very well, let us discuss this more on the morrow. Tonight, I believe we should celebrate your safe return and success, no?"

Adaro, jaw working, finally relaxed and gave a slight smile. "Yes, of course. Thank you, Nakanos."

The conversation turned towards safer topics, fond recollections of their mutual past as sellswords. Nakanos played the gracious host, genuinely grateful for the return of his dear friend, yet doubt gnawed at him.

Such a lust for revenge, he couldn't help but think, Will he conquer it, or will it consume him?