Author's Notes: Hola y bienvenidos amigos! First of all I want to thank Dragonlord001 for pointing out that the Roc in the previous chapter should have been much bigger in comparison to what I wrote. And for answering my question on possible Dragon egg locations, huge thanks to The Advocate7, and Guest Reviewer for the info. We had jaimerey7000 asking if Elves would join the show, but I will have to think on that.
And for those that might have missed it, I've updated chapter 2 to include a short confrontation with Catelyn over little Jon. Not very confrontational, just a Southern lady worried that her husband might have bitten off more than he could chew.
Also, Myrcella is going to be older in this fic. A year younger than Joffrey, and two years younger than Jon. She's also suspected to be the only child of Cersei and Robert.
Character Information
Name: Eddard Stark | Level: 4 {975/1250}
Race: Human
Job: Knight | Fatigue: 0
Title: Lord of Winterfell & Warden of the North
HP: 425
MP: 15
Strength: 16 | Vitality: 15
Agililty: 15 | Intelligence: 20
Sense: 15
Remaining Status Points: 0
3: The King Under the Mountain
Late 281 AC.
It was another six months before Eddard saw fruit from his Quest for Dragon eggs. Oswell had traveled first to Skagos, and found the remains of a wild Dragon, as well as the remains of many smaller Dragons. A thought had struck him that it might have been the fabled Cannibal, but Oswell described the larger remains, and both found that they were too small for such an old beast. No eggs were found within the lair, however, his search had resulted in him bringing back a large sack full of eggs.
Quest Update!
{Legacy of Fire} (Side Quest) (50% Complete)
[Sir Oswell Whent has returned from the Quest you have sent him on with success. However the eggs in your possession will be difficult to hatch, and raise. To hatch your eggs, you must follow the make an offering of blood and fire. Then you must bond with at least one Dragon. The rest can be left as they are, or you may hatch them in order to restore Dragons to the skies of Westeros. Eggs in possession - 250]
After his failure with Skagos, Oswell had traveled to Dragonstone in secret to investigate the volcano where he knew that the Targaryens had allowed their beasts to breed. But centuries of being kept like pets had done something to the eggs they laid. Save for a single large egg, all of them that he had returned with were no more than half or one quarter of the size of a normal Dragon egg.
Eddard picked up one that was no bigger than a chicken's egg, turning it over in his hands, "Is this really all that's left of the Dragons?" He wondered as Arthur and Oswell examined the latter's find, "A massive creature like that reduced to something no bigger than a barn cat?"
"We've no guarantee that they'll even hatch, either." Arthur sighed as he held on the size of a small melon. "But perhaps we can use them for something else?"
Catelyn picked up a small red one herself, "They are rather pretty." She said to her husband, trying to raise his spirits, "Even if they happen to be small, these eggs are still worth several fortunes."
"There's that, at least," Oswell sighed in dejection, "Out of all the eggs there, I found only one that could be considered a normal-sized egg." He gestured to the largest of the fossilized eggs, which was around the size of a large watermelon, the shell a brilliant bronze-red color. "Maybe it can still hatch?"
Eddard frowned at the egg still in his hands, a small dark blue stone to anyone that was unaware of the former giant creatures. The old saying of the Targaryens rang in his ears; "Fire and Blood."
He looked to his wife, "Cat, I want you and Sir Oswell to take a few of these and see about selling them. Leave the largest for certain. Sir Dayne, you take the largest one and hide it away somewhere safe until Jon is of age. The rest...we'll keep for trade and coin." He pocketed the blue egg he held. "Has there been any word for Sir Hightower?"
"I received a raven from him late last evening," Arthur said, shaking his head, "Queen Rhealla is dead," he said heavily, "She died birthing a daughter; Daenerys."
Eddard looked down, saddened by the news. "And the children?"
"They were gone by the time he caught up with this information," he said, "But he knows where they've gone, and will send another raven when he finds them."
Catelyn looked at her husband, "What interest are the children of Aerys II Targaryen to you?"
"I would like to know that myself," Arthur said, "Are you hoping to wed the girl to Jon?"
Eddard shook his head, "No, not unless both of them want it as such," he frowned, "Nor do I wish them any harm, but if they prove to be as mad as their father, and make a claim for the throne, then we may have another Blackfyre rebellion on our hands." He looked at the former King's Guard, "Truly, I do not wish to hurt them, Sir Dayne. If they wish to return to Westeros, I will help them, but should one or both of them have the famed Targaryen madness, then perhaps it would be best to see them stay where they are."
Arthur took a breath and let it out, "Aye...I can agree with that...besides, if a Targaryen is to sit on that throne, then let it be the rightful ruler." He said before he picked up the large egg and swept out of the room.
Still holding the crimson-colored egg, Catelyn followed slowly behind him with Oswell close behind her. Eddard himself looked down at the depressing pile of eggs inside the sack. "How far this great race has fallen. As intelligent as man, yet bred to be beasts of burden." He pulled the small blue egg from his pocket once more and sat in front of the hearth where a fire was blazing.
A weight suddenly settle on the chain around his neck where the ring, Vilya, hung. Curious, he took it from his neck, and held it up in the firelight. The blue stone seemed to glow fiercely. "You want to show me something." He took the ring from the chain, preparing to slip it onto his finger before a knock came to the door. Placing the ring back into his tunic, he shouted. "Enter!"
He turned just as his brother opened and walked through the door. "You have that brooding look on your face again, Ned." He remarked as he closed the door behind him before spotting the eggs on the table. "I take it that your venture was successful if these little beauties truly are the eggs of Dragons."
Eddard chuckled at his brother's levity. "Not quite, but I'm getting there," the Warden of the North said, "What did you find on your hunt?"
Benjen took a chair from the table and plunked it down next to him to sit next to the hearth, "Too much, if I'm being completely honest," he said, much to his brother's confusion, "We saw another one of those giant birds that you killed, a good forty-five foot wingspan on it." He started out and shook his head, "If that were the only thing we found out in the wilds, then I wouldn't be so worried." Eddard frowned, but waited for him to continue.
"We rode toward Moat Cailin, and saw something else. A Dragon, or at least we thought it was a Dragon, but it was far too small for the creatures we've heard stories about." He reached into his bag, pulling out the bestiary Eddard had given him, "I looked through this until I found something that matched what it looked like and found something called a Wyvern. Not as big as a Dragon, but damned near as dangerous. Poisonous, fast on its feet when on land, and damned unstoppable in the air."
Eddard knew of the Wyvern, and gestured for him to go on, "We rode toward Hornwood for supplies, but we found the people around there terrified because of a sounder of boars that had made their home there, so we decided to hunt a few of them." He shook his head, "We got a nasty surprise. Those boars were not normal boars. They were more than twice the size of normal ones. Long tusks, big bristles on their backs, and a nastier temper than anything I've ever seen." He frowned as he held up the book once again, "Dire Boars are what the book calls them. Monster is what I call them. Lost five men to them before we managed to kill two of the beasts and drive the rest of them off."
Eddard looked at him and sighed, "We'll put up a bounty. A gold dragon for each one brought down, or driven South."
"Better to make it two," Benjen told him, "A normal boar is dangerous, but these giants are monsters. Better to give people something to risk their lives over." He sighed, "We found signs of other creatures; a huge nest built of branches, bones, feathers and broken egg shells. We did not see the creature, but I'm glad of that. Nest was littered with bones of both man and beast." He rubbed his hands together, "Right, on to brighter topics! How're my two favorite nephews?"
Eddard chuckled, "They grow by the day," the man said proudly, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say they were real brothers as close as they seem to be." He said, "Robb doesn't like being away from Jon for very long, and gets fussy when he is, and that makes Jon fussy, so we've had our hands full."
"They've the wolf's blood in them," Benjen smiled, "Lyanna would've been proud."
"She was, in the end," Eddard told him, "Benjen...I may have to take my leave of Winterfell for a short time," he said as the younger man looked at him, "I have people I need to find, and alliances to forge. If I do not, then the North will suffer, and very soon the Long Night will take us." He gave his brother a pleading look, "I need you to act in my stead as the Lord of Winterfell."
Benjen shook his head, "Ned, I don't want to be the bloody lord," he groaned with a pleading look on his face, "If this is so important, then let me - "
"If an alliance is to be formed, then the one seeking to forge it must be the one seeking out the allies." Eddard told him, "I have to do this myself, Ben. You know that."
"You've only been home for a few months," Benjen told him, "You've barely held your sons!"
Eddard nodded, "Believe me, Ben, I want nothing more than to spend my every waking moment with those two boys, and every child that may come after them, but this is as much for them as it is for the North." He rose from his chair, beckoning his brother to follow him. "I have many plans to set in motion, Ben, and none of them are small."
"Where did all of this ambition come from all of a sudden?" Benjen asked laughingly, "I remember a boy that used to think running Winterfell would be impossible, yet here you are planning to raise a king!"
Eddard chuckled, "Before now, I did not have reason to even think that Robert may turn on me," he said as he went to his desk, "Here." He pointed to a spot on the map spread out on his desk, "Sea Dragon Point has no settlements. I want a trading town built there, as well as a shipyard for building up our navy."
"We don't have a navy!" Benjen reminded him.
"And that is something that will change." Eddard told him, pointing to another spot on the map, "We need to rebuild Moat Cailin, though I'm not sure which House to..." he trailed off as a thought struck him.
"What is it, Brother?" Benjen asked.
Eddard shook his head, "It's nothing, never mind me," he cleared his throat, "If none of these eggs are viable, then they are still valuable, and even one of them will be enough to buy everything we need to build that port town and the shipyard."
"We'll need a lot of lumber for that," his brother remarked, "House Hornwood would be the best people to ask as they have fertile lands. Then there's the Mallisters. They're loyal to the Tullies, and you now since you've married into the family."
"Aye, and be sure to replant the trees that we have to cut down. We also have the House of Royce," Eddard said, "We can easily use both the Mallisters and the Royces as sea ports. Trade is going to be something that needs to increase."
Benjen nodded, "And this is where you're going?"
"More or less." Eddard nodded.
Eddard was as good as his word as he left the very next morning at the crack of the dawn. All that he took was a warm cloak, leather armor, a bow and arrows for hunting, hardtack and Bremervoord.
On his right hand, however, he wore Vilya, the gem still shining. He rode for half a day before he uncovered the ring from beneath his gloved hand, "Show me the way to the Dwarves."
The gem's glow became blinding as Eddard's eyes were overtaken by the same glow.
His eyes were no longer his eyes as he was whisked away from his body, and propelled across the land passed Winterfell, and the Wolfswood to the mountains that led up to the wall. At the base he was shown a stone wall with a moss-covered rock in front of it. There he watched as the wall gave way, and was as a door before as short, barrel-shaped man stepped out. His head was balding, and his beard was so long that it reached his waist. But it wasn't a grungy beard like those of the North. It was braided, and well-kept. He wore a simple set of robes, and kept a large battleaxe at his back.
If he were to stand next to Eddard, he would just barely come up to his chest. Not the type of Dwarf that the fabled Imp of Casterly Rock was made out to be, but a true, underground dwelling Dwarf.
Then he was suddenly back in his body, and astride his horse. He smiled, "Come on, we've a way to go before we can reach them." He urged his horse into a canter, and then into a full gallop.
The Wolfswood was one of the many wild places of the North, filled with all manner of creature from deer to rumors of the great Direwolf, long thought of as extinct South of the Wall. He had yet to see one, but with the changes his newfound knowledge and abilities had brought with them, he had no doubt that some of the beasts roamed the wilds.
He had ridden all day by the time he reached the wall of rock at the base of the mountains. When he dismounted his horse, he was certain that he was in the exact same area that his visions had shown the Dwarf standing in. But the wall was solid, with no hint of a door, or any sort of lever to press. Eddard stepped back from the wall in frustration, "How in the seven hells am I supposed to get in?"
Quest Alert!
{The People of the North}
[Many different people call the North home. However not all of them are known to the Northern Houses. Some wish to remain this way, while others do not care whether they are known or not. Your task is to align 3 new people with the North. The benefits of doing so vary.
You are currently in the vicinity of a Dwarven door. A Dwarf entryway will never be visible to the naked eye, and will remain hidden until a certain time, unless a character already know of the door's existence, and is able to open the door using the proper key.]
Eddard sighed, "That's bloody useful," he spat and sat down on a nearby boulder, contemplating on using the ring again, until he felt the boulder shift beneath him. Then there came a loud metal clang as the wall he had been examining shifted and began to slide open.
Quest Update!
[You have located the hidden door to the Dwarven kingdom. You may now meet with the Dwarves living under the mountain. Caution; Dwarves are kind but difficult to befriend. Proving yourself to the Dwarven kind will be the most efficient way to gain the trust of the Dwarves in order to form an alliance with them.]
Eddard frowned, his hand dropping down to Bremervoord's pommel. He then stepped into the entrance...and was suddenly blinded by bright lights being shone into his eyes.
"Hah! Told ya he'd be nosy enough!"
"Never said he wouldn't come in!"
"Shaddup! Ya owe me five pieces of gold, Flint!"
"I said three pieces of gold, and two silvers!"
"Durin's beard ya did!"
As Eddard's eyes cleared while the two people in front of him argued back and forth, he was able to make out a tunnel before him, the walls intricately carved from the stone of the mountain with what looked like murals, and finally, as his sight returned, he found the two in front of him. They were identical as far as facial features went, though one had a head of red hair and a braided beard, while the other's was brown, and had beads woven and braided into it.
"Ya callin' me a liar, Eberk?" Said the one with red hair, "Fine! Ya won't see one copper outta me, ya old sod!"
"Old sod?! We're twins, ya twit! We're the same age!" Shouted the one called Eberk before he reached over to Flint, and yanked on his beard, hard.
"Not the beard!" Flint roared before he retaliated with the same tactic.
Eddard would've found it funny if he didn't feel that they'd forgotten that he was even there as they went on with their beard-pulling contest. "Er, excuse me?"
"What?" Both Dwarves barked out as they turned to him, "Oh, ah, forgive us." Eberk said, seeming to be the more polite of the two of them, "This is a normal thing between us."
Flint snorted and crossed his arms over his barrel-shaped chest, "Normal, hah! It's only normal 'cause it's always you what starts it!" He glowered angrily as he turned his squinted eyes on the human. "And what's a human doin' in Dwarf territory?"
Eddard thought for a moment, but a thought struck him as he reached for his sword once more and drew it from its sheath, causing both brothers to reached for what looked like meat hammers on their backs, "I think that this might have belonged to one of your people?" He said as he held the blade out for them to examine.
Both Dwarves suddenly surged forward and began looking the blade over.
"Fine steel," said Flint.
"These etchings...this is a blade of Clan Rumnaheim," Eberk frowned, shaking his head, "Flint, you remember young Baern, don't you? His father gave him this sword before he went out adventuring."
Flint nodded sadly, "Aye, that he did." He turned his eyes up to Eddard, "How did you come by this blade?"
Eddard frowned, "I found it inside of a Roc."
"Bugger." Said Flint.
"Bloody hell." Mutter Eberk, palming his face and beard, "That is no easy way to go that isn't."
"It nearly killed me," Eddard agreed, "I only managed to kill it because it didn't pin my sword arm down, and managed to stab it through the mouth and out the back of its head."
Both Dwarves nodded, "It's a good thing ya've done for this lad's family," Flint said, "Barendd, Baern's father, always suspected that his son was never coming back, but he did hold some hope."
Eberk looked to Eddard, "We will have to take you before the king before the sword can be returned to its clan."
Eddard nodded, "That is why I am here."
If someone were to ask Eddard to describe the mountain halls of the Dwarves, his only response would have been magnificent. Gold was abundant in the mountain as it was used in decorations all over the walls, the pillars, even the stairs and their railings were made of, or etched in stone floors were carved and polished to a mirror sheen, all of it made from one piece; the mountain itself.[1]
Nothing had had to be moved to build their bridges, or halls. All of it had be dug, mined and carved from the mountain.
When he looked down, there seemed to be a near bottomless pit of mining activity going on deeper into the ground. He could hear the hammers at work in the deeper parts of the mines as he was led along. From the strike of a hammer against anvil, or the sound of steel striking stone, it rang through the halls of the mountain kingdom like music.
"Your home is incredible," the man remarked to his two escorts, "No castle in my homelands can compare to splendor such as this."
Flint gave out a short chuckle, "Smithing and mining is the passion of all Dwarves," he told the man, "It would be a poor Dwarf that didn't add his hand to these gilded halls."
"It shows," Eddard nodded.
Eberk took his leave of them to retrieve the father of the fallen while Flint continued with the escort, the tall man drawing looks of distrust and fear from many of the Dwarves they passed. "Are my people not well received?"
"Generally, no," Flint said,"We hear many rumors of the cruelty and greed of men, so we Dwarves generally steer clear." Flint then looked up at him with a wide grin, "But that may yet change with yer meeting our king." The Dwarf frowned, "Speaking frankly, I'd like to see what your people are like outside these halls. I've heard tale that ye lot tamed Dragons at some point, and even managed to craft weapons from their fire."
Eddard nodded and explained to Flint about the legends of Valyrian steel, the Dwarf listening with great interest. "Blood magic, eh?" Flint frowned, "We've used powdered gems, and sometimes to powdered claws, teeth and feathers of certain creatures to forge our blades, but we've never stooped as low as to use blood magic."
"I've never seen such a thing myself, either." Eddard said, "My people believe in the Old Gods of the Forest, and that there is magic, but no one I know practices it."
"Few do," Flint said, "Human wizards were hard to come by in the age of the First Men," he went on, "Now no true wizards exist, except maybe you."
Eddard looked at him, "Me? I don't know how to perform magic."
"You've a magic ring 'round your neck," the Dwarf pointed out as Eddard's left hand rose to the chain involuntarily. "It may not make you a true wizard, but it can make ya dangerous. Even without seeing it, I can tell it be a powerful thing. I can feel the elements coming from it."
Before Eddard could ask what he meant, the came out into a great hall where a massive spire came down from the roof of the mountain with huge glowing veins of gold swirling through it like rivers down to where it was carved into a throne. Seated on the throne was whom Eddard assumed was the king. Standing beside him were four other Dwarves, his kingsguard, perhaps?
The king himself was a thick, and heavyset Dwarf with a long, thick grey beard, large round nose, and hands that looked like they could strangle a direwolf.
Flint bowed his head, Eddard following suit, "Great King Under the Mountain," the Dwarf said respectfully, "This human has come to us - "
"I see the Dwarvish blade he is holding, Flint," the king said, "My eyes haven't dulled so much, yet." His tone was gentle in a joking way, "Let the man speak for himself."
Flint gestured for Eddard to step ahead of him, "My name is Eddard Stark, and I am the lord of a hold called Winterfell," he presented Bremervoord, "A few months ago, I encountered and fought with a Roc that had this sword inside it."
"And you thought to return it," the king said with a nod of his head, "I was unaware that any humans knew of my people anymore." He sounded suspicious of him for a moment, but then the man's smile broadened, "However I find that it pleases me that at least those that do know of us seem to be of a good sort."
"Who does the sword belong to?" Asked one of the Dwarves on the king's left.
Flint peeked around him, "It's young Baern's of Clan Rumnaheim."
The king's eyes saddened. "Am to I take it then that your brother has already gone to fetch his father?"
"He has." Flint agreed.
The king rose, "Then let us take this to somewhere more comfortable." He said, "Our guest must have had a long journey, and will certainly be in need of a hot meal, a good drink."
It was not long before Eddard found himself in another massive hall, this one for dining, obviously, as the king shared a meal with him. Eddard was able to speak of his desire to form an alliance with the Dwarves, and the king listened with interest as Eddard offered the land surrounding Moat Cailin. "The castle itself is in disrepair, but if the work I have seen in your great halls is proof of your skills, then it will not take long before a broken down castle becomes a grand palace."
The king, King Alberich, nodded, "T'is a tempting offer, I'll admit," he said, "But I cannot simply uproot myself for a new seat of power."
Flint chimed in, "Why not one of your sons?" He asked, "Dain would be a good choice; he's always talked about going to the surface."
"Dain would be a fine choice," Alberich said with a nod, "I can ask for volunteers. Truth be told, from what you've told me about your Valyrian steel, it's made from something we call dark steel, or meteorite steel[2]. If it's lost to your people, perhaps we can teach a few human blacksmiths, and make a trading post out of the castle."
Eddard nodded, "That would be a grand idea." He said, "It's already near a trading port called White Harbor, and I intend to build a trading and shipyard of my own around a new village my brother and I spoke about."
"I will speak with my son," Alberich said as he spotted Eberk followed by a small procession. "But it looks like the pleasantries are over." The king said sadly.
Eddard stood up as the group of Dwarves approached, at the forefront was Eberk, followed closely by an older Dwarf, and a Dwarf woman. Behind them were six younger Dwarves, all of them adults, though he felt that these were also their children.
Eberk stopped just short of him, and bowed, "Eddard, I am pleased present Barendd, and his lady Bardryn of Clan Rumnaheim."
"A pleasure to meet you, Master Barendd, and you, Lady Bardryn " Eddard bowed his head, "I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and head of House Stark."
Barendd bowed his head slightly, "We are pleased to meet you, Lord Eddard." He said even though his eyes never left the sword in Eddard's grip, "I...I believe you have something that may belong to my Clan?"
Eddard presented the sword to him and, with shaking hands, Barendd accepted it. He grasped the hilt, and pulled it from its sheath. Upon seeing the blade his wife gave a forlorn cry and covered her face while Barendd closed his eyes and returned it to the sheath, "It is as I feared. My son is dead." He looked upon Eddard, "Eberk told us of your encounter with the Roc, which is an eternal hunter of our people, and we thank you for putting an end to my son's killer."
Eddard shook his head, "I need no thanks though I do offer my condolences," he said, "I've recently lost a father, brother, and a sister, so I know of familial grief."
Barendd gave a sigh and looked down at the sword, "I would normally allow you to keep the blade, Sir, but...my son and I worked together on this particular sword, something I have yet to do with my other children. So this sword has much meaning to my family."
Eddard gave the Dwarf a sad smile, "I came to return it, not to ask if I could keep it," he said, "It is a fine sword, I will readily admit that, but if it means so much to you and your clan, then your clan is where it should remain."
Barendd smiled, "You are a kind man, so much unlike the tales I have heard of humans as of late," he said, "But you are now without a weapon, and these lands are fraught with dangers, man and beast alike." He passed the sword to his wife, and gestured for one of his other sons to come forward, "My son, Bruenor. His blade smithing skills have already far surpassed my own, and when we heard that you had brought my youngest's sword back, he offered his finest blade to trade for Bremervoord should it come to it."
"But I want you to have it all the same," Bruenor said, "Baern was a good boy, and an honorable member of our kin. I can tell that the two of you are the same at heart, both good and honorable, so I have no qualms about parting with this." He presented Eddard with the sword he held, "This is An'ferthe[3], a blade forged from meteorite silver, and quenched in acid to make the blade nigh unbreakable. It will never lose its edge." Eddard lifted the blade from the Dwarf's hands, "May it serve you well."
Eddard removed the blade from its sheath, marveling at the sheer beauty of the blade. "I will carry it with pride, and honor."
The king nodded his head, "We will hold a proper burial for your son tomorrow." Alberich said, "Lord Eddard, I know that you are not familiar with the boy, but it would honor us if you were present."
Eddard did not refuse.
An evening of Dwarven hospitality, and Eddard found himself in the tomb where they kept their dead. There were no graves as one would expect in a graveyard but raised marble tombs. For Eddard it was a familiar feeling as they filled the tomb with a fine suit of armor that had once belonged to the deceased, his family placing white blossoms around it. Then the tomb was closed.
Eddard was silent the entire time as the entire Clan passed by the tomb saying their final farewells, many of them bowing respectfully to the lone human in thanks for bringing him home in a sense.
It was a somber affair as the procession came to an end with the king saying a few words to the family. It was then that Eddard decided it was time to return to Winterfell.
"We have decided to accept your offer of Moat Cailin," said Alberich as Eddard prepared to leave. "My middle son, Dain will be it's lord, and has already gathered many volunteers to follow him."
Eddard smiled, "I'm glad of it. You people will be welcomed in the North, but I warn you, it's a cold, hard place."
"So is the stone from which our people were said to be carved from." The king said with a wide grin. "I look forward to seeing what this new alliance will bring to our combined people."
Quest Update!
{The People of the North}
[The Dwarves of the Northern mountains have allied themselves with House Stark! You have unlocked the Secret of Steel! The smithing skills of the Dwarves is now available to you! The Dwarves will now establish a home in Moat Cailin after rebuilding the castle.]
Quest Reward: An'ferthe - A sword forged from meteorite silver steel with a hardness so great that it will never lose it's edge. It was given as a gift from Clan Rumnaheim for bring home their family's lost son's sword.
Character Information
Name: Eddard Stark | Level: 4 {975/1250}
Race: Human
Job: Knight | Fatigue: 0
Title: Lord of Winterfell & Warden of the North
HP: 425
MP: 15
Strength: 16 | Vitality: 15
Agililty: 15 | Intelligence: 20
Sense: 15
Remaining Status Points: 0
[1] When thinking of a Dwarven kingdom, I can never not think of the Hobbit's Erebor before Smaug came a'knockin'. It was a beautiful hall, and kingdom, and probably would be again once Ironfoot's people finished rebuilding.
[2] Dark Steel, and Meteorite Steel/silver are a good substitute for Valyrian steel, if not equal to it in some ways. Dawn, Sir Arthur Dayne's sword, is forged from Meteorite steel, itself so it is, in a way, cannon.
[3] An'ferthe is yet another Witcher 3 sword, and it is classified as a silversword. Strong, and beautiful if you want to look it up and see what it looks like.
Next time we see Eddard return to Winterfell briefly, before going North to meet with the Freefolk. Ya wanna see that, ya know what to do! Adios Amigos!