Author's Note: The last chapter was trash. Perdon :p
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: 50
Strength: 16 | Vitality: 15
Agililty: 15 | Intelligence: 20
Sense: 15
Remaining Status Points: 0
5: A Friend from the South
Mid. 282 AC.
Winter Town was exactly as Tyrion had hoped it would be. A bustling place of commerce, and trade. The little town was not so little anymore. There were two blacksmiths forges, one of which was run by a Dwarven family, a respectable trading post, stables and even a cartography shop to by maps of the area.
Another side of the town boasted a bakery, brewery, a cattle and fowl farm where chickens and turkeys were seen milling around alongside massive, shaggy haired cattle. Near the castle walls, Tyrion saw what could be called a massive grain farm.
"The Starks are a richer folk than we Southernborn give them credit for." Tyrion commented to his companion, who snorted, "I hope you don't find that offensive, Lord Benjen. I meant it wholey as a compliment to your people."
Benjen chuckled, "You need not worry about offending me, Lord Tyrion," he said with a smile adorning his face, "My brother scarcely returned home before he started changing the way things were." He gestured to the town. "Our home has grown greatly within just a year and six months. Half of these buildings are new. The farms have been expanded to include bounties from both vine and branch. And our trade has increased tenfold thanks to our alliance with the Dwarves."
"And what about the Wildlings?" Tyrion asked, feeling it was time to broach the very subject of his visit, "Don't get me wrong, my lord, I've enjoyed their company for more than I imagined I would, and I find them to be a decent lot of people. But my dear brother-in-law demands to know the reasoning behind your brother's allowance of their migration South of the Wall."
Benjen looked at the Imp, frowning in thought for a moment before he nodded, "You know the tales of the White Walkers?"
"I do," Tyrion nodded, "I've read plentiful books on the frightening creatures that call the Far North home."
Benjen nodded, "Eddard believes that they are rising once again, and will bring the Long Night." He shook his head, "The old Northern saying that Winter is coming is not just the coming of the cold years, but the true Winter that comes when the Night King himself rises and leads his forces South to ravage and kill the people so that his army of the undead may reign supreme."
"And by bringing the Wildlings South, he thinks that the Night King's army will be less that what it would have been," Tyrion said with a slight titter in his voice, "Once again, I mean no disrespect, but this all sounds like the ramblings of some children's bedtime tale of snarks and grumpkins."
"And yet I faced a creature that has never been seen in these parts until recently when that griffin and its mate showed up." Benjen reminded him, "And dragons were once thought to be nothing but fairy tales, but then came the Targaryens and their hellish mounts." He said, a grim smile on his face, "Then there are the Dwarven people that Eddard formed an alliance with. I did not know such a people existed until I was shaking their hands."
Tyrion nodded in understanding as they rode toward the castle walls, "I see your point." The man nodded, "Though I believe many will fuss over it, the people that were brought forth through the wall are more than the savage brutes we've been led to believe they are." He chuckled, "And I see no harm in letting them stay."
Benjen gave a gruff bark of laughter, "You'd have a hard time getting them to go back," he said, "Not only does my brother believe that the White Walkers are returning, but so do the Free Folk. They're terrified." He said with a nod in the direction of the castle, "Mance Rayder, one of the clan leaders, has claimed to have seen them, and even fought and lost men to them. He was once one of the Night Brothers, but defected when they became corrupt, and joined the Free Folk. He's an honored man among their clans."
"And here I thought that Lord Eddard would have had his head," Tyrion said with all the seriousness that he could muster.
But the younger Stark just shook his head, "As I thought he would as well," he said, "But he did nothing of the sort. He knighted him!" Tyrion looked at him sharply, as if expecting the punchline to a joke, yet it never came, "He also named him lord over the port city that he's building at Sea Dragon Point. He's colorfully called it Sea Dragon Port."
"Ah, yes, very witty," Tyrion said with a straight face, "Was he a Northerner?"
"Not so," Benjen said with a face just as straight, "We Northern folk have a whimsical and joyous sense of humor." He said with a look at the Imp that had him serious for all of a moment before both men broke into laughter.
Tyrion continued to chuckle until they reached the gates of Winterfell, "Well, I dare say that the North has made me feel more welcome than any other place I have visited without seeing my gold first." He said as they rode through.
"That is the North," Benjen said with a smile. "Here you'll find that we prefer good food and a warm hearth over glittering pieces of metal." He said as they pulled up to the stables, "While having it is never a bad thing, I find that it turns some men, some of the best, into their own worst enemies for their lust for it, like a man that has too much love for the drink."
"I can quite agree with that," the Imp said as he swung down from his mount, motioning for the stablehand to come forward, "See that he gets some apples with his oats, he's earned them. And a brushing, too, if you please." He said before handing the boy two silver stags, the young fellows eyes lighting up at seeing the coins. He chuckled as the boy rushed about to fulfill his request, "The way he acts you would think I'd just given him a small fortune."
Benjen shrugged, "It's not something uncommon, but stablehands are the lowest paid around the North." He said, "Most stablemasters come from the same walk, but they'll see a boy on the road, and offer him a job and a place to sleep. The job being mucking out the stall, feeding and grooming the mounts, making sure the gear is maintained. And the place to sleep is a bale of hay."
"And here I thought that young stable boys had dreams of knighthood," Tyrion japed, as he took in the size of the stable, "Surely there's more places to sleep than a bale of hay in a stable this large?"
"Indeed," Benjen nodded as he gestured toward a smaller building, "That's a barracks that Flint and Eberk built for us after the Dwarves took up residence at Moat Cailin. A fair number of them stayed on here, including a family that my brother aided in the past. They have a shop down in the town."
"Good of them." Tyrion smiled. "But tell me; how did your people take the fact that their Lord had allowed the Wildling - excuse me - Freefolk across the Wall?"
Benjen frowned, "Not well, at first," he said, "Truth be known, we had a fair few loud discussions with our bannermen. House Bolton was particularly loud about it, but none so more than House Umber. Our dear friend, Greatjon, nearly burst a vessel."
"I'll bet he did." Tyrion said with bit of dry humor, "House Umber has had to deal with a great many raids by the Freefolk in the past. And there was that nast kidnapping incident, of course."
Benjen gave a small chuckle, "Funny thing, that," Tyrion looked at him with interest, "Seems that the girl never was abducted, but fell in love with one of their raiders." Tryion sputtered out a laugh while Benjen was trying and failing to keep a straight face, "Now, old Mors is the proud grandfather of four little rascals that could give a Dothraki white hair!"
Tyrion was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes, "Oh, if the rumors I've heard about that old crow are to be believed, then he must have been beside himself!"
"Oh, he was," Benjen laughed, "But then he got to know the little runts. He loves them, now." He cleared his throat, "They are blood, and blood is the chain that binds our house!" He said in a weak imitation of Mors' voice.
Tyrion chortled, "Good to know that one of the most loyal retainer isn't as cross as they could be." He said, "What about the rest of the North?"
"It's for that very reason that they're building at Sea Dragon Point," Benjen said, "Not only is it far enough away from the Northern Houses, but it'll give the Freefolk the chance to get themselves on their feet."
"And the Dwarves I met at Moat Cailin?" The Imp asked.
Benjen chuckled, "They make a mead that could knock a Dragon on its arse," he said, "Their wares and blades are as fine as Valyrian Steel, and they are a good, hard working people. The North respects that."
Eddard Stark's day had not started off well.
He had been plagued by horrid dreams concerning his coming journey to the Far North. Some of which consisted of him leading a blue-skinned people through the gates of the Wall, and others which had him battling an unknown being clad in black. The only thing that was clear about this being was the fiery golden glow on his left hand.
Though Eddard had never seen it for himself, he knew that this glow could only be the Golden Ring of Power that the Stranger had warned him about. That dream had ended with his sword broken, and the being holding him by the neck, the life draining from his eyes as he had become a White Walker. Another version of the dream had seen him doing battle with the same being, only sending the creature into a dark chasm through unknown means.
The dreams had not been the end of his troubles.
He knew full and well that he was to expect the envoy from King's Landing that very day, so much of his morning was spent organizing a feast. That had not gone as planned. Some days ago, Benjen had reported successfully killing a griffin, and brought back its head as a trophy. However, the creature was unknown to have had a mate, which was now terrorizing the nearby villages.
After reading up on the creatures, both Starks were embarrassed to find that griffins were vengeful creatures, more so than any raven or crow, and would claim no territory while embittered. They mated for life, and while Benjen and his men had managed to kill the female, the male was now on a rampage across the North. The hunting party that he had sent out that morning for meat had not returned, and Benjen's party had been sent out to find them. He did not hold hope of seeing the huntsmen again unless it was to bury them.
Now, he was dealing with an entirely new problem.
Mance paced in front of him, looking grim as always, "It's not another hill tribe, Eddard, that much I know for certain," the man growled, "The arrows we've pulled from our men were too refined for a people so crude."
Arthur, in attendance as always, nodded as he examined one of the arrowheads, "Not a barb on it. Just a clean cutting head." He said as he passed the arrow to Eddard, "Never seen anyone use something like this."[1]
Eddard, however, was able to discern what it was thanks to his abilities.
Elven Arrow (broken shaft)
{Arrows crafted by Elves are some of the finest to be had. They are light, and fly far when shot. In the hands of a master, these arrows are as deadly as they are beautiful.}
[First Dwarves, and Frost Giants, now I have to deal with Elves?] Eddard frowned as he placed the broke shaft down on his desk and scrubbed his face with his hands. "How often are you attacked, and when?"
Mance shrugged, "Whenever we go to cut timber for the town." He said, "Why?"
[What kind of Elf would be angry about foresting?] He asked as a window popped up in front of him, adopting a thinking pose as he read it.
Wood Elf
{Of all the Elven races, Wood Elves are the fiercest. They are distrustful of anyone that is a non-Elf, and do not take well to humans due to the fact that they live in heavy forested areas, and humans will cut down the trees the Elves call their homes.}
Eddard took a deep breath, "Mance, I think I have a solution," he told him, "If it doesn't work, then I'll have to deal with it myself."
Mance looked slightly worried, "Eddard, you know who these people are?"
"I have a hunch." He affirmed, "Their people generally live in trees, and the felling of their homes would most likely draw their ire." He nodded as Mance frowned, "Here's what I want you to do. For every tree you fell make certain that you plant one, perhaps two saplings. Oaks and fruit bearing trees would be the best."
Mance nodded, "I see no problem with that, but what if it doesn't work?"
Eddard shook his head, "Then I will have to speak with them myself."
Arthur looked at him worriedly, "Replanting trees is a good idea in any circumstance," he sighed, "It won't do for us to completel deforest the North."
Eddard chuckled, "That is not something we could do in an age." He said, "What I fear is that the lumberjacks are getting too close to their settlements, and the shots fired have been nothing more than warning shots." He said, looking up at Mance, "We're very lucky that no one's been killed, yet."
"The clans wouldn't stand for it if they had," Mance nodded, "I'll do as you ask, Ned, but if this doesn't work..." He trailed off, but the lord took the meaning of it and nodded in understanding. "Now, what about that griffin I've been hearing so much about?"
Eddard sighed, "It's been a thorn in my side ever since Benjen killed its mate," he frowned, "It's far too fast for any horse to keep up with, and our archers can't reach it because it's smart enough to keep well out of their range."
"We've only ever scratched the damned thing when we've caught it on the ground." Arthur nodded, "It is a smart beast, I'll grant you. Powerful, too. No one's been killed, yet, but it's taking more livestock then it could possibly need for food."
Mance nodded and crossed his arms, "When dealing with a beast like that, it's best to watch for carrion birds." He said, "If it's taking more than it can eat, and stashing it all in the same place, then there's bound to be some crows or voltures about that are brave enough to steal a bit of meat."
"There's an idea," Eddard nodded, "I'll tell Benjen when he gets back."
"Benjen is back," the man said for himself as he came through the door, seemingly in good cheer, "And in one piece, I might add, after running into that bull griffin again!"
"And saving the lives of myself and my men." Said a voice the Eddard Stark was absolutely delighted to hear.
He rose from his seat, a beaming smile on his face, "Lord Tyrion!"
"Indeed, and truly well met, Lord Stark," Tyrion smiled in greeting as Benjen let him in, "I must thank you and your brother once more on behalf of my men. Had the griffin been truly hungry, I fear that I may never have been able to rile my father, slander my sister, or berate my beloved brother ever again."
Eddard chuckled as the Imp waddled forward, "I can honestly say that it's a pleasure having you here." He said genuinely happy to see the only Lannister that he felt that he could trust.
Arthur was looking at the man as if he'd grown a second head, "Er, ahem, to what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?" The Sword of Morning cleared his throat, feeling somewhat dry.
Tyrion smirked at the man, "Oh, the usual pleasantries." He said, "The Spider caught wind of a supposed Wildling invasion, and that our dear Lord Stark here was the main cause of it." He said, much to Mance's amusement, "But in my time traveling to the Northern Realms, I have not only found that this rumor is false, but that our new neighbors are not only fine folk, but the most welcoming of people I have ever met outside of a brothel."
Benjen chuckled as he pulled a chair around for the dwarf, "From what he's said on the way here, he's quite impressed with how you're managing the North, Brother." He said as Tyrion climbed up into the seat.
"Indeed," Tyrion smiled, "The Dwarven people of Moat Cailin are fine craftsmen, and their wares would be doggedly sought after in the South for the great beauty." He said, and pulled the small sword from his hip, "Even in a sword as small as this, I can tell you that any warrior would be proud to have one. Utterly beautiful work."
Eddard seated himself, smiling, "Their blades and wares are an inspiration to my own craftsment, and they have risen to the challenge." He said, "Our trade has gone up these last few months, which has brought my people many riches."
"Will you be trading with the South any time soon?" Tyrion asked, "If so, I should like to invest in some of those wares. Perhaps open a shop in King's Landing for the selling of such goods?"
Eddard nodded, "I'll have Flint and Eberk speak with you later. They would be thrilled to have their work shipped South," he chuckled, "I have to warn you, though, Dwarves can drive a hard bargain."
"I know," Tyrion chuckled, "Don't forget, I'm a Dwarf myself...in a manner of speaking."
Despite the trouble with the griffin, the feast for Tyrion's arrival went off without so much as a hitch.
A few hunters that had split off from the main group that morning had returned with a truly massive Dire Boar that they had managed to kill by chance, and a well placed hunting spear. Eddard, true to his word, had paid them a bounty for the beast of two gold dragons each. The beast was butchered and roasted, and then the mead and wine had begun to flow.
Tyrion was once again delight with the hospitality of the North as he drank and ate his fill that evening, treated to songs and stories of which the resident Dwarves contributed to greatly.
He enjoyed them all, but none more so when a maid by the name of Nan fussed at the them for blunting the knives. The resulting song the followed had the woman as red in the face as a young lady.[2]
With a full stomach, warmed by mead and merriment, Tyrion took to bed that night, looking forward to the morrow. When the sun rose, and Tyrion woke, the letter he penned to the King told him in no short word that the North, as it was now under the rule of Eddard Stark, was prospering. The invasion of Wildlings was not a worry, and the people of Moat Cailin were to be a trusted, and friendly lot.
Then next morning, rested and happy, Tyrion requested ink and parchment.
"To Robert I Baratheon King of the Andals and the First Men
Lord of the Seven Kingdoms
Protector of the Realm
I hope this finds you well,
I have found my journey and time spent in the North, short as it has been, to have been a most pleasing experience. As you are no doubt wondering as to the suspicions that our dear Spider has had against the Northern people I will say this: Lord Eddard Stark, Head of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North is completely innocent.
While he has let the "Free Folk", as they like to call themselves, South of the Wall, I can tell you, without lie or embellishment, that they are, without a doubt, a kind, caring, and courageous people. They neither raid, ravage, rape or pillage your friend's lands in the North. Lord Eddard has them settling along the coast of Sea Dragon's Point, not only to keep them far from the Northern Houses, and villages, but also to build what he hopes will become a lively port town for trading.
To that I will add that the new residents of Moat Cailin are not so different from yourself or even my own self, as they are rather short in stature. They call themselves Dwarves, or Durin's Folk for the sake of those in my condition. They are masters of metal and jewel crafting. A sword forged by them would be unmatched even if it were made of Valyrian Steel.
They are a friendly and lively bunch that love a good mug of ale or mead, and feasting could be considered a hobby of theirs. When I met with the new lord of the Moat, I was received like a lost member of their family, and gifted a fine pony, and a sword just the right size for someone like me.
You have no need to fear or worry about these two peoples harming either the North or the South.
Now, on to more pressing matters.
The North is prospering, oh yes, it is prospering like a fine jewel under Lord Eddard's rule, however that's not to say that he does not have his share of woes. On my way to Winterfell after leaving Moat Cailin, my party was attacked by what could only be called a monster. This is no jape nor jest, my good-brother. The beast that attacked mutilated one of our horses, thankfully the rider was unharmed.
It came on the wing like a Dragon from the stories of Targaryen conquests. The span of its wings were truly massive. Its face sported a razor-sharp beak like that of an eagle's, but the face was more feline as it had what seemed to be a lion's head, complete with a shaggy black mane. The wings were where the front legs should have been while the back legs remained lionine, they ended in thick black claws that looked like they could gut an Ice Bear.
I was only saved by Benjen Stark, who was out hunting the creature, and his hunting party. He called the thing a Griffin. It, and a number of other strange creatures have begun appearing in the North. Some of them may make their way South, including a species of giant boar that now stalks the North. I know you love to hunt, my King, but do take care out in the wilds, now. There is no telling what manner of beasts may appear in King's Landing.
To close this letter, I have taken the liberty of sending you and my sister a few novelties to celebrate the impending birth of your son, and my nephew. For my dear sister, I've packed a golden necklace with a rather flawless ruby at its center. For you, something I know you will enjoy as much as I have. You will be receiving a few barrels of the Dwarves Dragon's Breath mead as well as a lovely blade which I've been told is called a seax made from the same metals the Dwarves here use[3]. Take care, however, it is as strong as it is delicious.
Yours in service,
Your Good-brother, Tyrion"
Quest Update!
{Envoy from the South} - Complete
[Lord Tyrion Lannister has seen your lands, and befriended your people. The King will no longer suspect you of betrayal. Tyrion Lannister will now be a friend to House Stark, and all that fall under its rule.]
Reward: Support of Tyrion Lannister [A shop will now be available in King's Landing provided by Tyrion so that your wares may be regularly sold in the South.]
3 Status Points will be added for completing the Quest.
300 exp. {Exp. to next Level: 1275/1250}
You Have Leveled Up!
Current Level: 5 {Exp. to next Level: 25/1500}
Now that you have reached Level 5, and additional 3 Status Points will be award for each Level gained, or Quest completed.
Character Information
Name: Eddard Stark | Level: 5 {25/1500}
Race: Human
Job: Knight | Fatigue: 0
Title: Lord of Winterfell & Warden of the North
HP: 525
MP: 50
Strength: 16 | Vitality: 15
Agililty: 15 | Intelligence: 20
Sense: 15
Remaining Status Points: 9
When Eddard received the notice, he felt a great deal of relief wash over him as he could now count Tyrion as one of the people he could call a friend to the North. Now he could focus on the problems at hand. First and foremost being the griffin.
"Are you certain that you won't take anyone else?" He pleaded with his brother, "One man is hardly a match for a griffin like that."
Benjen just shook his head, "Better that I go alone this time, Ned." He said, "One lone might not be a threat to it, but it will be a tempting target."
Eberk shook his head at the man, "And they say that we Dwarves are a stubborn lot, but we have nothing on men." He motioned to the packs on Benjen's horse, "I've packed you some new armor in there, along with a sword of my finest make."
"Our finest make, ya flat-nosed git," Flint sneered. "We both worked on it."
Eberk huffed at him, "I did the hammering!"
"I poured and mixed the materials!" Flint argued back, much to the amusement of the two men.
"I worked the bellows!" Eberk snapped.
"And I did the quenching!"
Eddard decided to put an end to it before the started pulling each others' beards again. "Alright, we understand!" He laughed, "My brother will have a fine sword crafted by two very gifted Dwarves!"
The two Dwarves looked at each other, "I cannot tell if he's being truthful or teasing?" Eberk said.
"We'll take it as truthful," said Flint.
Benjen chuckled as he reached for the new sword and unsheathed it. The blade sang as the metal slid smoothly from the leather scabbard, almost glowing in the dim light of the Northern morning.[4] "The runes," he asked as he gazed on the beautiful blade, "What do they mean?"
"For protection of the wielder." Eberk said, "We won't be sending you after a beast like that without a little Dwarven charm."
Returning the blade to its sheath, Benjen strapped it to his waist, "You've my thanks."
"Your return will be thanks enough, Friend Stark." Flint nodded. "Gods know that Eddard would mourn your passing, let alone the wee bairns."
Eddard nodded as his brother mounted up, "They're not wrong, Ben. You would be greatly missed."
Benjen looked at him with a smile as Eberk handed him up a round shield[5], "I don't intend to die, Brother. I need to stick around to make sure you raise those boys of yours right." He laughed as he spurred his horse into motion before riding out of the gate.
Eddard looked out after his brother as he rode off, his chest feeling a tight uneasiness. "May the Old Gods watch over you, Brother."
"Aye," said Flint with a bow in the retreating Stark's direction, "May the thunder watch over him."
Eddard looked at the Dwarf, "Thunder?" He asked, "You're people look to the Old Gods?"
"Aye, we do," Eberk said, "Is that so strange?"
Eddard frowned, wondering fleetingly if...
"The race of men have no name for the Old Gods," Eddard started, "We always thought them to be the spirits in the forest...But do you know of one...an old man cloaked in black with a missing eye?"
[1] The Elven arrow that Mance provided is made of malachite, making the arrow a Glass Arrow from Skyrim.
[2] Obviously the song in question is Blunt the Knives from the Hobbit.
[3] Huldufolk Blade AC-Valhalla
[4] Full gear, Benjen has a set of Grandmaster Griffin Armor, along with the Grandmaster Griffin Silver Sword.
[5] Benjen also carries a Briton Shield from AC Valhalla.