Jon and his companions have stayed too long in the lands of the Princes now they must return home, all the while the College of Mages may have unraveled the secrets of Jon's coming here. Kindly leave a review, I do love hearing from you.

The days after returning from the Skaven tunnels were blessedly quiet. Jon, Sir Jon, he supposed that he should get used to calling himself that though it still seemed strange. Fortunately, there were knights on the Wall, so being knighted did not violate his vows, though he would have to think of some way to explain it upon his return. In the meantime, he had to admit that it was nice to be introduced as a knight and enjoy the prestige that the title brought. However, not all of the introductions were pleasant, especially many of the early ones.

Many of the first ten days after their return were spent attending the funerals of notables who had died. As a knight and being regarded as a hero of the expedition, Jon was expected to attend these. He became all too familiar with the temple of Morr, god of the dead and his lugubrious priests. Blessedly he was not required to speak at any of these, merely be there and appear solemn, something he had learned to do at Castle Black. Other than that, matters continued much as they had before.

He spared with Sir Lambert, who, in addition to the sparring, advised Jon to prepare himself. Being knighted elevated Jon to the ranks of the nobility, and many of them would resent someone whom they considered to be of inferior birth. Jon thanked him, not bothering to tell the other knight that Jon had a lifetime of being looked down on because of his birth; he was quite confident of his ability to deal with more of the same. An aspect of knighthood which he had not anticipated was the fact that, as a newly established knight, he had to create his own coat of arms. He had not thought of this, and, in truth, this caused him a certain degree of unease and panged consciousness. A part of him wanted to use the Stark family crest. No one would know that he was not entitled to make use of it, and it was something he had always longed to do. Still, he found himself reluctant to do so. He felt that to do so would just be wrong somehow. Also, if he were being honest, he found that it was rather exciting to create his own crest, except that the process had two complications: Margaery and Ingfried.

Both of them were profuse in their congratulations at his elevation and in their willingness, indeed eagerness, to aid him in the creation of his crest. Margaery, as the daughter of Lord Paramount and educated by a Maester, had extensive knowledge of heraldry and was more than happy to share that knowledge with Jon. Ingfried, on the other hand, was also a member of the nobility, and while her knowledge of heraldry might not be as extensive as Margaery's, she had greater understanding of the symbols employed in the Empire and the lands around it and their significance. Overwhelmed by their conflicting advice, Jon eventually decided to put the design of his new crest on hold. For better or for worse, there were other matters to occupy his mind.

Once the initial excitement of the attack died down and the funerals had been held, and an appropriate mourning period had passed, Herman resumed the negotiations. He confided in Jon, however, that they were not going well. A state of events which was confirmed by Margaery. It seemed that, though it had been beaten back, the Skaven attack had left the leaders of the various city-states badly frightened. Many of them seemed to fear that the attack was the harbinger of a full-fledged invasion, something that had not occurred in centuries, yet the death of so many nobles had left a power vacuum, which now had to be filled. Margaery informed Jon that the politics of the city-states of Tilea could be even more vicious and byzantine than the court of King's Landing. Therefore, the cities could, if nothing else, expect numerous rounds of deal-making, alliances being formed and broken and even some assassinations. If matters got truly out of hand, there might even be open warfare, both between the cities or between the factions of individual cities. In short, there was little enthusiasm for sending aid to the Empire. Nor did Herman's diplomatic difficulties end there.

The various leaders knew what was likely to occur and were already making plans. Part of those plans included seeking to increase the strength of their forces by hiring as many of the sellsword companies as possible. Meaning that Herman would have to engage in a bidding war for each and every one of them. The letters of credit which he carried allowed him access to significant funds, significant but not endless. Privately Herman confided in Jon that he was doubtful of his ability to secure the contracts of more than a few of the companies. It seemed more than likely that he would be returning home to the Empire a failure. An act which he was not looking forward to. Fortunately, the news closer to them was better in nature.

Contrary to his initial fears, it seemed that De Felice would survive. The efforts of both his physician and the priestess of Shallya had succeeded in saving his life. Though his life has been saved, he did not escape unscathed. The wound to his back meant that he would walk with a limp for the rest of his days and would need a cane to do even that. That fact seemed to upset him, though he did his best to hide it when Jon came to visit him.

"Well, my boy, it seems that my dancing days are at an end." He had said, his words slightly slurred from whatever they had given him for the pain.

Jon forced a smile. "Dancing is not all that there is in life, My Lord."

The older man nodded ruefully. "I suppose not."

He paused and looked Jon in the eye as he took Jon's hand in his and gave it a firm shake when he spoke, and he did so in a firm and serious voice. "More importantly, far more importantly, you save my grandson. I will never forget that, and I shall always be in your debt. I wanted you to know that. If you ever need anything, and it is in my power to grant, I shall. I swear it."

For a moment, there was silence as Jon struggled to think of something to say. He was saved by De Felice speaking again, this time in a much lighter tone.

"I heard the news. Congratulations on your knighthood, well earned, well earned." He smiled, the same knowing, slightly leering smile that he had smiled when telling of women that he had known during his adventures.

"The ladies will find you irresistible. Take advantage of that while you can." Jon flushed but found himself smirking uneasily as he thought of Ingfried and Margaery while De Felice laughed.

Even more grievous to De Felice than his wound was the loss of his sword. Jon did not know how far the sword had fallen down the crevice as there had not been time to search for it before they had begun their journey back to the surface. Even had they known, Jon doubted that any would be willing to go back and search for it. He, for one, knew that he was unwilling. De Felice seemed to know and accept this, even if he found that painful. However, he seemed determined to put a brave face on it.

"My son is not much of a swordsman anyway." He said. "As for my grandson, perhaps it is for the best." He looked at Jon and forced a smile. "He will have to find a weapon of his own, perhaps a better one. Yes, a better one won after a grand adventure.

"Now, you cannot deny that that will be a story worth hearing, eh lad?" Jon nodded in agreement.

"It will indeed, My Lord and I look forward to hearing it."

Though he had spoken in jest, De Felice's words regarding the ladies proved true. In an effort to shore up support for his diplomatic efforts, Herman insisted on taking Jon, whose efforts against the Skaven had made him something of a local hero, to numerous parties and dinners. These were, while often enjoyable, could also be especially wearisome. He had always been ignored in Winterfell, and that had left him unused to being the centre of attention. He found it flattering at times and confusing, frightening and aggravating all at once at other times. This was further complicated by the fact that he was expected to come to such events accompanied by a female companion. This meant that every time he went, there was an unspoken yet fierce competition between Margaery and Ingfried as to which of them would be accompanying Jon. Jon, who had never been in such a situation before, had no idea what to do. He had suggested that they take turns attending. He had thought that a reasonable solution, but for some reason, the suggestion had only seemed to further annoy them. Herman, who clearly found the whole affair to be hilarious and had informed Jon that many would envy his problem. Jon had had more success talking to Sumaira.

She was mending, though it would still be some time before she would be walking again. She liked to spend much of her time in the garden enjoying the sunshine. Needing advice and finding Herman to be of no help, Jon had sought her out to get her advice. He explained the situation to her, and while she had chuckled as well, there had been no malice in it.

"You men are all alike; you can't understand anything concerning women, even when it is right under your nose." At Jon's confused look, she sighed.

"They are fearful, and that fear makes them jealous and hostile," she said. "Wizards, I am told, are raised in a very strict environment, and I doubt she has had much experience with men. Believe me, however strong a man's first infatuation is, it is stronger and more passionate for women. She probably thinks that she is in love in a way that no woman before her has been, and she sees Lady Tyrell as a rival trying to take her joy away from her."

She sighed and paused before she spoke again. "As for the Lady Tyrell, while I do not understand all of it, I understand that she and you come from the same kingdom. She is alone in a strange land, dependent on the mercurial aid of others," she said. "Then you come a man from her own land and a strong protector. Therefore, she too sees the Lady Wizard as someone trying to steal her source of comfort and protection." She sighed again melodramatically and then gave Jon a sly smile.

"Matters would be so much better if we were in Araby, the land of my father." Jon gave her a curious look.

"Why would it be better if we were there?"

"Because there a man can have many women. You could have them both, and there would be no problem." Jon thanked her and his leave, doing his best to banish the images her words conjured in his mind. As he walked through the garden, he considered her words carefully.

It had been a surprise to meet the Queen, it was true, but it had been a comforting one. It had felt good to talk to someone from Westeros, to reestablish connections to a place that was starting to fade in his mind. He supposed that he should not be surprised that the Queen would feel the same way and have some resentment towards anyone who appeared to be trying to take that away from her. There was also the matter of protection. It had been a long time since he had depended on anyone else to defend him, and he found it hard to imagine it.

In these lands, the Queen had no bannermen to call upon for aid, and those who did protect her ultimately answered to Princess Belladonna, who Jon would not wish to have to depend on for protection. He strongly suspected that the Princess's protection would last only as long as there was something in it for her. Jon supposed that a woman would cling to a man whom she thought would protect her just as fiercely as one who reminded her of home and would regard anyone attempting to take him away with a hostility born in fear.

Then there was Ingfried.

While she had been speaking, Sumaira had used the word love. That had sent Jon's mind racing around his skull as it tried to answer the questions which that word had created there. However, try as he might, he was having difficulty finding answers.

Did Ingfried love him? He had not truly thought about it. He knew that she enjoyed spending time with him, and without being overly proud, he liked to believe that he was not horrible to look upon. Did that mean that Ingfried was in love with him? Was he in love with her? He found her very beautiful and certainly enjoyed spending time with her. Was that love? He did not know. He did not feel the same way he had with Ygritte, so did that mean he was not in love with Ingfried? Or did it mean that he had not been in love with Ygritte? It was all confusing.

He shook his head angrily.

He was a man of the Watch, gods, damn it! He was sworn to take no wife, so it was irrelevant.

Yet, there were no Weirwood trees here; the gods would not see what he did. The thought that he would even think that made him angry and a little afraid. Oaths and honour were not things to be warped or twisted to suit one's needs or desires. Other men might do so, but his father had not, and neither would he. In an effort to take his mind off of the troublesome matter, he thought about something else that Sumaira had said.

The matter of Araby had come up before. Indeed, it was another reason that Herman's efforts were being so stymied.

At several of the parties Jon had attended, the subject of Araby had come up. It seemed that the land was made up of several semi-independent city-states. One of these was called Lashiek, which was home to several pirates who operated with at least partial approval of the city's rulers. Recently it seemed as if one of these pirate captains, who it was said went by the named Nasser ben Azer, had recently begun to rise above his fellows. It did not seem that many, if any, knew much for certain, but rumours abounded.

According to the rumours, he was the son of one of the ruling sultans of that land, had been sailing since he was ten years old and became captain of his own ship at the age of seventeen. All accounts of him and that he was a highly skilled sailor and magnificent swordsman. Those speaking of him also claimed that he possessed cunning, daring and ruthlessness in equal measure. He had sailed the length and breadth of the Southern Sea, the Black Gulf and beyond. Allegedly he was even received by Carmen Sicilieri, the Pirate Queen of Sartosa, who was known to respect little besides strength. Recently, however, Ben Azer has seemingly begun to change and has seemingly begun to employ greater political acumen.

Through cunning negotiations, bribery and occasionally outright murder, he had begun to build a power base among the other pirate captains of his city. Some of the people to whom Jon spoke interfered that Ben Azer might soon rise to unite all of the Araby pirates into one fleet. This would make him a power in the South Sea capable of greatly hindering, or even completely cutting off, the trade of many towns and cities of both Estalia and Tilea. None knew for certain what caused this change, though some spoke of a new counsellor Ben Azer had taken into his service.

More than a month passed before a dispirited Herman was finally forced to admit defeat. Despite his best efforts, he had been unable to gain more than vague promises of support from the various rulers and nobles, as well as only managing to secure the contracts of a handful of sellsword companies. He had spoken of remaining in Remas for the remainder of the winter, telling Jon that the countryside was simply the most beautiful sight in the world in the spring. While Jon was certain it would indeed be a beautiful sight, to Jon, it was clear that it had more to do with Herman not being eager to return to the Empire and having to explain his failure to both his father and the emperor. However, matters did not take his desires into consideration. He had been corresponding with the Empire informing them of his progress, or lack thereof, and had received several letters in turn. The last one contained instruction for him to return home as quickly as possible. He read the letter and then informed Jon of its contents.

"Well," he said in a slightly despondent tone, "It appears that our little holiday is at an end." Jon looked at him, a feeling of worry growing within him.

"Does this mean trouble for you?" He asked as he indicated the letter. Herman waved his hand in a dismissive manner.

"Oh, I doubt that Papa or the Emperor will be very pleased with me, but no, I doubt very much that I shall be in any great trouble.

"They can be hard men, but they are also fair men, and Schwartz will support me when I tell them that I have done all that I could. They will understand and will not blame me for situations and events over which I had no control.

"No, I fear the worst I shall have to endure is the embarrassment of having failed at my task." After a moment, gave a slight chuckle.

"That and having to explain to Sumaira why we must return to the Empire and miss all the beautiful scenery." Jon was relieved. He had grown fond of the eccentric nobleman and did not wish to see him come to grief for something which was not his fault.

A week later, they put to sea, retracing the route that they come by, though Jon hoped that this time the voyage would prove to be less eventful than the last one. He was soon disabused of the hope. Indeed, the hope died even before the ship left the city's harbour and did so in a manner he never would have expected. As the ship was being loaded, Jon noted a good deal more luggage was being loaded than they had brought with them. He found Herman and asked about it. As Herman responded, Jon noted that he seemed much happier than he had been since receiving the letter. Indeed, Jon would swear that there was a hint of mischief in his eyes as he spoke.

"Oh, forgot to tell you. Do forgive me, it completely slipped my mind with one thing and another. We have a new member of our little party."

"Who?" Jon asked. Though it hardly seemed possible, Herman's smile grew even broader, and the mischief was now apparent in his eyes.

"Why, your good friend Lady Margaery Tyrell." Jon stared at him in stupefied silence. Clearly enjoying Jon's expression, Herman continued speaking.

"Indeed, Princess Belladonna has appointed Lady Tyrell as an ambassador of goodwill from the Principality of Pavona the Empire. When I heard of this, I felt it was only proper to invite her to accompany us as we return home, and Her Ladyship was kind enough to accept." For a moment, Jon simply stood there, unsure what to make of this new development.

Ever since he learned they were leaving; he had felt saddened at the prospect of saying farewell to Her Grace. Other than Ghost, she had been the only link to home, and the thought of losing that link had pained him greatly. Moreover, he grew fond of the Lady herself and would miss her. However, it could not be denied that a small part of him has been slightly relieved.

Like Ingfried, Queen Margaery, especially with all of the attention that she showed him, presented him with a temptation he feared he would find harder to resist as time went on. Moreover, her presence had proven to be very upsetting to Ingfried, who had become more cheerful at the prospect of returning to the Empire, and Jon guessed leaving Margaery behind had been part of the reason. That would vanish as soon as she learned of this new development. Especially as Jon saw the two young women would be sharing a cabin. Her Grace soon appeared at the dock, clad in a travelling dress of green and yellow and accompanied by several servants and a man who was clearly her bodyguard, as well as a man of middling years.

The bodyguard, who she introduced as Ezio Taraborrelli, was tall and lithe in build, with curly black hair, eyes of the same colour and dark brown skin. Another notable feature was the three scars which ran down the length of his left cheek, marring his otherwise handsome face. He moved with the smooth grace of a highly trained swordsman, and his eyes were alert and watchful.

He wore black leather boots which came up to his knees and trousers of the same colour secured by a leather belt and fastened with a large buckle of worked gold. His shirt, which looked to be made of silk, was puffy and loose-fitting, over which he wore a vest, which looked to be of heavy felt, and was blue-edged by silver thread. A golden sash hung from his right shoulder and ended on his left hip, from which hung his rapier. A cloak of scarlet and gold on down to the back of his knees, and on his head was a large wide-brimmed hat with a large multi-coloured feather stuck in the band. In addition to his rapier, he was also armed with a dagger and pistol. He should have looked comical, but he did not. Jon remembered thinking the same of Herman and being proven wrong, and when he looked closely at Ezio's eyes, he saw a killer's eyes. It was also clear that Margaery was quite taken with him.

"The Princess assures me that he is one of the finest blades in Parvona."

"The finest," he corrected; he smiled, and the laughter came to his eyes, removing any insult that might have been taken from his words. Margaery smiled politely at him, though whether she was agreeing with him or simply being polite, Jon did not know.

The second man was clad in clothing which, while colourful, was more subdued than the attire of many Jon had seen since coming to Tilea. He wore a black skullcap, which Jon guessed was to cover a bald patch. He had a short, well-trimmed beard which was shot through with grey. Though he was not introduced to Jon and the others, and so Jon did not know his name or purpose for being there, Jon took him for some form of councillor and could very easily imagine the man wearing the chain of a Maester.

As he had suspected, Ingfried was far from happy with the situation, particularly the sleeping arrangements. She had too much dignity and self-control to openly make a scene, but it was clear from the stiffness of her manner and the lightning in her eyes, which Jon feared would turn into real lightning. As their cabin was at the back of the ship, Jon moved his sleeping roll as far to the front of the ship as he could while studiously ignoring the knowing smirks of his squire and most of his companions. He was not sure what else to do and feared that any attempt to make peace between the two of them would only make the situation worse. Fortunately, he received aid from an unexpected ally.

Sumaira, whose leg was completely healed, often acted as a peacemaker between the two younger women. She subtly and unobtrusively interposed herself between them if an argument began to become heated. In this, she was aided by the fact that she was base born, which offended Her Grace's Westerosi sensibilities and Ingfried's noble ones, as well as the fact that she was Herman's mistress and usually wore clothing which was far less modest than the other two. These factors were off-putting to both of them as not only made them reluctantly around her, but surprisingly to Jon, it also gave them something to bond over. Jon had asked Sumaira if that had been her all along. In response, she had simply smiled knowingly at him. Events were further smoothed by the fact that at sea, there were no social events other than the meals, which they all ate together. This meant that, apart from walks on the deck, they were all together, and while Jon doubted that they were happy with the arrangement, as long as they sat on either side of him at meals, they managed to be civil. Determined to make matters less awkward, Jon tried to engage them and the others in conversation rather than having them all sit in uncomfortable silence as they ate.

"My Lady, I must confess myself slightly confused." he addressed Lady Tyrell, which she had asked him to do to avoid questions from people as to what exactly she was the Queen of and why she was travelling the lands instead of being in her own kingdom. At a polite look from her, he continued.

"I am somewhat unsure exactly what your role of goodwill ambassador entails. How exactly does your role differ from that of a regular ambassador?" She smiled, clearly pleased to be speaking on the subject.

"It is actually quite simple, my good Sir.

"In some ways, it is like an ordinary ambassador; I shall, of course, be meeting with Emperor Karl Franz, but I shall also be meeting with the various Elector Counts.

"As you probably know, the Elector Counts have a great deal of autonomy, even greater than those allowed the Lords Paramount back home. Even if the emperor is unwilling to send aid to the Princess if the need should arise, then one of the Electors might. Additionally, the Princess expects me to do all I can to win goodwill for Pavona. Ensuring that any prospective aid will be well received by the Elector's populous." At these words, Ingfried snorted.

"I am rather doubtful of that. The way things are going, not only do I doubt that the emperor will send aid south, but he will also frown on any Electors sending their military strength away from the Empire when it is most needed." Margaery gave Ingfried a look, but other than that, she gave no indication that she was annoyed at being interrupted.

"You are correct, Lady Mage; that is a distinct and unfortunate possibility. However, those are not my only task, perhaps not even my most important ones.

"I was instructed to travel to Nuln as soon as I have presented myself to the emperor and speak with Elector Countess Emmanuelle von Liebwitz, Grand Countess of Wissenland, Countess of Nuln and Duchess of Meissen." At her words, Ingfried seemed to have some of her hostility and derision overcome by curiosity.

"Why her?

"She is wealthy, I grant you, but Wissenland is hardly the most influential of the Imperial Provinces. Indeed, some have gone so far as to call it a backwater, even if it borders Reikland"

"The countess herself does not have much sway over her peers, and she only got the title with the direct intervention of the Emperor." Margaery nodded.

"True, but in a way, that works in my mission's favour.

"The countess is a personal friend of the Emperor, and thus winning her support could aid in negotiations with him.

"Moreover, due to her insecure position, she will want to strengthen it by securing lucrative trade agreements to bring in more wealth, which is a strength all in and of itself.

"Finally, even if no other agreement is reached, there is one final task I was charged with."

"What is that?" Herman, who until now had been silent throughout the conversation. For a moment, Margaery was quiet, as if not sure if she could trust them, but at last, she seemed to decide that she could and proceeded.

"Black powder weapons. While these weapons are manufactured in Tilea, all the armouries therein could not hope to match the Imperial gunnery school on quality or scale."

"Princess Belladonna knows that should war come, her forces are not sufficient to safeguard the city as they are. Thus, she seeks to supplement her army with not only sellswords but also by seeking to have more black power weapons and artillery pieces than any of the other city-states.

"I did not know you were trained in such negotiations," Herman said in a complimentary manner. Margaery smiled at him in a graceful manner.

"You compliment me, My Lord, but I must confess that I have little knowledge of such matters. Fortunately, a member of my entourage, Giacomo Sbaraglia, has much experience in such matters. Unfortunately, he is of somewhat humble birth and said that Her Grace the Countess is said to have little time for those not of noble birth. Therefore, I will conduct the negotiations with Sbaraglia to advise me." A silence followed this statement as everyone seemed to contemplate what Margaery had said.

Jon could understand. He knew all too well the feeling of knowing that one's army was not prepared for a coming conflict and doing whatever it took to strengthen it. He felt a flash of envy directed towards Princess Belladonna for having seemingly more than sufficient funds to simply buy whatever was needed without having to indebt herself to a banking group with a reputation as fierce as that of any lord.

He wondered how his brothers in the Watch fared and if they thought he had deserted; the mere thought of that caused him pain. He wondered if they had chosen if they had picked a new Lord Commander and, if so, who it was. Would there be trouble when he got home determining who was in command? Would there even be a Lord Commander or Watch, or would the Others have destroyed them? That last thought filled him with both dread and a feeling of helplessness, neither of which he enjoyed at all. He shook his head and returned to the conversation, though it appeared to be winding down.

"Thus," Lady Margaery was saying, "I shall be in Altdorf for as little time as possible, and then I shall make my way to Nuln."

"Well," Herman said as he rose, bowed to Margaery and began making his way to the cabin, "I wish the best of success, My Lady." With his departure, the remained of the group soon too retired to rest.

As Jon lay on the deck staring up at the stars and thought about what had been said. His mind returned to his earlier thoughts of the Watch and what had happened to them since he had been gone. He felt his determination to get home become reinflamed. He did not know how he was going to explain his absence to his brothers, who might very well consider him mad. Well, he would cross that bridge when he came to it. First, he had to get home.

He decided that as soon as they reached Altdorf and he had seen Ingfried safely to the College, he would call on Father Wiendenfeld. Hopefully, the priest would have made progress on translating the book and gleaned something useful from it. Jon had not been permitted to bring Hagren Pyke's journal with him, but he had made a copy of the relevant passage for Wiendenfeld. With luck, and Jon thought that he was due for some luck in his search for a way home, the two would be able to combine their knowledge and get some answers.

The remainder of the voyage was without incident; they landed in a port whose name Jon did not know; they boarded a barge and travelled down the River Reik until they reached Altdorf. Once they landed, they were met by a party of thirteen men. The man was richly dressed and was clearly someone of importance. The other men were all armoured knights. Their armour was clearly of the highest quality and strangely uniform in appearance, right down to the crests of red feathers which adorned all of their helmets. At the sight of them, Ingfried made a slight sound of surprise.

"Reiksguard." She spoke. Even as she spoke, the man approached and bowed to Herman and Lady Margaery.

"Greetings, Lord von Mannheim, Lady Tyrell. I am Hildebrand von Gradl, Third Secretary to his Imperial Majesty, Emperor Karl Franz I Holswig-Schliestein. I have been commanded to conduct you to the Imperial Palace to meet with His Majesty." Despite his courteous words, Jon noticed that he seemed to be regarding Herman with some condescension. It seemed that his fears regarding his reception were indeed justified. Von Gradl conducted Herman and Lady Margaery, along with Sbaraglia and Taraborrelli, to a large carriage, the knights splitting up, with half in front of it and half behind it, Sumaira entered a second carriage as their servants loaded her and Herman's luggage on it. She turned back and gave Jon and the others a quick smile before she, too, departed, accompanied by Sir Lambert and Rockcrusher.

Ingfried soon secured several carriages and wagons to carry them and their possessions to the College. Upon their arrival, Ingfried went to speak with her master while Jon had Gunther carry their belongings to Jon's old quarters, which had been kept for him. Once settled in, he made his way down to the stables, where he was able to obtain a horse and leave the College. It took him a bit of time, he got turned around once or twice, but at last, he found his way to Wiendenfeld's temple. To his relief, a novice assured him that the priest was in residence and would receive him at once in his quarters. Jon was led to the priest's room, and no sooner had he sat down than the door opened, and Wiendenfeld entered.

"My dear boy, it is good to see you!

"Please, sit and have a drink!" As he spoke, he motioned for the novice who appeared carrying a tray with a flagon of wine, two cups and a bowl of nuts. Jon accepted the glass, and for a time, they simply sat and drank. They talked of Jon's journey south and his battle with the Skaven. As Jon spoke of them, Wiendenfeld made a sound of disgust.

"Skaven, vile creatures." Then his tone changed.

"But you say that you have met someone from your land, fascinating." His tone became officious, sounding as if he were trying to solve an academic problem.

"And you say it was nowhere near you when you yourself were brought here?"

"No," Jon replied, "She was in King's Landing, hundreds of miles from the Wall.

"There is more." He added as Wiendenfeld began to fall into deep thought. The priest immediately returned his attention to Jon. Jon, on his part, quickly produced a copy of Hagren Pyke's journal. The older man took it and swiftly read it.

"What do you make of it?" Jon asked once the priest had finished reading.

"Fascinating, very fascinating, and it ties in with what I have learned." At his words, Jon found his heart beating faster.

"You have translated the book then?"

"In part, and it is fascinating reading." He leaned back, and his voice took on a lecturing tone.

"The book speaks of the Old Ones."

"The who?" Jon interrupted before he could stop himself. He remembered hearing the name before but could not remember the details.

"The Old Ones are, or rather were, a semi-mythical race which the Elves claim were the creators of all life." At his words, Jon remembered discussing Magister Adelman and his theories.

"They were travellers between worlds, were they not?" He asked, and Wiendenfeld nodded.

"Among other things.

"Now, the legends say that the Old Ones were driven from this world when Chaos first came to the world." As he spoke the word, he rapidly and seemingly unconsciously fished the symbol of his goddess from his robe and kissed it. After he returned the symbol, he continued speaking.

"When that happened, the Elves say that the devices they used to travel were damaged and now spew forth uncontrolled and tainted magic. Now this is just a theory, but it seems logical.

"Magic, like the seasons, waxes and wanes, and I assume the corrupted power of the Old Ones' devices do the same. Indeed, some who think on such matters have claimed that when the power of Chaos," again he kissed his amulet, "Waxes, it flows from these ruined devices. I should add, however, that those who study such matters are often…eccentric at best." While interesting, Jon was still confused.

"But what does this have to do with Lady Margaery, and I being brought here?" He asked.

"Now, this is just a theory, but I believe both of your arrivals are linked to the rising of…the Ruinous Powers."

"How?" Jon asked, still confused.

"While the devices are broken, they have not wholly halted in their efforts to perform their function," he said. "Thus, when the Ruinous Powers wax, more magical power flows through the devices. When this happens, they activate and attempt to perform the function for which they were created to enable travel from one place to another. However, as they have been damaged, they are not working properly, and you and your fellow countrywoman were drawn in."

"This is just a theory, of course, but it is actually supported by the passage of the journal that you brought me." Seeing Jon's curiosity, Wiendenfeld elaborated.

"You have undoubtedly heard that the Ruinous Powers appear to be currently waxing. This is not the first time that this has happened. The last time was The Great War Against Chaos, which occurred more than two hundred and twenty years ago. The waxing and waning of magic can be a long process. That being the case, if this theory is correct, it would explain how this ship in the journal was drawn in. The Old Ones' devices were, for lack of a better term, active, and that was what enabled the ship to pass through. It would also explain why there have been no reports of people coming from your lands since; there has simply been not enough magic for the devices to snatch people." Jon considered this.

It seemed to make some sense; at least it was something besides people simply saying that they had no idea how it had happened. As he thought of this, another thought occurred to him. He and Lady Tyrell had been brought here; was it possible that others had as well? He voiced his thought to Wiendenfeld, who nodded in agreement.

"It is entirely possible, and that, too, would be in keeping with the theory. If we are correct, the devices will be acting sporadically and randomly, snatching people and depositing them at random." A look passed over his face.

"For all that we know, there could be dozens of people from your home wandering around." That was an unpleasant thought, and Jon changed the topic quickly.

"If this is indeed what happened, how do we make it send us back?" Wiendenfeld seemed to be reluctant to speak and was silent for several seconds. At last, and clearly, with some reluctance, he began to speak.

"If this is indeed what happened, then I fear it is impossible to send you home."

"The devices are located in the far north and the far south, far beyond what any mortal can go and remain sane, uncorrupted or likely even alive.

"Even if one were to reach the devices, they are broken, and the only ones with knowledge of how they work, or how to repair them if that is even possible, are long gone. I doubt that the Old Ones even still exist, and even if they are, they have not returned in thousands of years. Either they cannot return, or they have chosen not to. Finally, if they could repair their creations, thereby halting the coming of the Ruinous Powers into the world, would they not have done so?

"No, I fear that if it is true, then I do not see how you could be sent home, at least not by the way you came." The priest's words, though he was clearly trying to make them as kindly as possible, made Jon feel as if he had both fallen into a frozen lake and been struck on the head. He felt as if he was being crushed by the whole weight of the Wall pressing down on him. His mind went blank, and he could not seem to form coherent thoughts.

Lady Margaery had spoken of not being able to get home, but Jon had not wanted to think about it. It was simply not in his nature to give up. Now he was confronted with the fact that he could not get home, and there was absolutely nothing he could do. That made him feel helpless, and he hated that feeling. What was he going to do? What he was thinking must have been clear on his face as Wiendenfeld swiftly began speaking again.

"This is not to say that matters are set in stone. This is just a theory, and we could be completely wrong. Even if our theory is correct, we do not yet know everything. There is still much of the book that I have not yet translated. It is quite possible that some answer may yet present itself." Jon was not sure if Wiendenfeld was telling the truth or if he was simply trying to make him feel better. In either case, he nodded his thanks, finished his wine, and departed soon afterwards.

He departed soon afterwards and made his way back to the College. He was still in a daze and looked around him without truly seeing them, and all the sounds of the city seemed muted. The fog persisted as he reached the College and returned the horse to the groom. He made his way to the city and dismissed Gunther after absently giving him some money to enjoy himself in the city. As the young man left, a small part of Jon told himself that he might very well never see the boy again. However, he found that he could not bring himself to care.

You should. The small part of him said. You will have need of a squire, especially as it appears likely that you will be here for some time. Possibly forever. The thought chilled him, and he angrily clammed down on it.

Nevertheless, the thought refused to leave him. Unable to sit, he rose and began to pace the room. Ghost, clearly made uneasy by Jon's actions, mimicked his movements. As he paced, Jon found the physical activity calming and gradually, his peace returned.

As Wiendenfeld had said, they did not yet know everything, and even if the book did not tell all, that did not preclude them from finding and employing other means of finding a way home. It was not the first time he had been in a seemingly hopeless situation, and he had always managed to find a way out.

And if not, there are worst places to be trapped in. The voice in his head said. Without meaning to, an image of Ingfried appeared in his mind. Once again, Jon squashed the thought as he shook his head. He closed his eyes as tight as he could and did the same with his fists. He repeated the words of Maester Amon in a voice which was little more than a whisper.

"Love is the bane of honour, the death of duty." He tried to hold onto those words as if they were a lifeline.

Yet, here, you have no duty. The voice, it seemed, would not leave him in peace. Yet, despite everything, he found that a part of him wished to heed the voice.

There had been many times he had wished to be free of the Night's Watch and the vows which bound him to it. He knew that many wished the same, but he was in a unique position. He could not keep his oaths. He was cut off from the Watch and was unable to return, and he had tried as hard as he could to return to it, more so than he was sure many of his brothers would and had been unable to do so. That being the case, who could blame him for making a life elsewhere as best he could?

Furthermore, there were no Weirwood trees in any of the lands here, at least none that he had seen. With no trees, even the gods could not see and judge him. Though he tried to force these thoughts back, they continued on.

He remembered when, as a boy, he had dreamed of loving and being loved by a woman. He had experienced that dream come to life during his time with Ygritte. All that he had had to do was stay with her, and it could have been forever, but, in the end, he had forsaken her to return to the Wall because his oath had compelled him to do so. Stannis had offered him legitimacy and Winterfell, two things he had always wanted; once again, his oath had held him, and he had refused. In both of those instances, he had refused to forsake his oaths, even though he had wanted to. However, he could finally be free of his oaths, and none could blame him.

He remembered when Ingfried had kissed him, how good it had felt. Part of him would like to kiss her again, and he was sure that she would like that as well. He had been granted a knighthood, and though that had always been Bran's dream, Jon still found it a great honour. This was a violent land, and it was not so foolish to think that he could make a life adventuring. It helped that, unlike the Wildlings, the Skaven and the other foes Jon had faced were unquestionably evil, and Jon felt no sympathy for them as he did for the Wildlings. He could have everything he had always wanted, legitimacy, honour, titles and possibly lands of his own. He might even have Ingfried. Angry, he rose, took up his sword, and departed the room. He was not sure where he was going, but he was determined to find a place where he could train, hoping to drive such thoughts of fancy from his mind.

Before he could find such a place, however, he was confronted by a servant. Though he had been wandering throughout the College, the servant gave no sign that he had had any difficulty in finding Jon. Jon supposed that it should not be a surprise to him that such was the case. The servant led him to what appeared to be a large library, with bookshelves rising up three stories and numerous long tables at which people sat either reading or writing things down. At one of the tables, a stack of books on one side of her and a stack of parchment on the other, as well as pen and ink, sat Ingfried. Jon, remembering his earlier thoughts, found himself blushing and feeling slightly uneasy. He quickly recovered himself and walked over to her. As he approached, she looked up and smiled.

"Jon," she paused, her smile became mischievous, and her voice took on a mock serious tone; "Or do you prefer your full title, Sir Jon il Cuor di Lupo?" Jon could not help but laugh at her words, though he forced himself to do so quietly. He, in his turn, bowed to her, and he, too, made his tone one of false seriousness.

"Shall I address you by your title, Apprentice Wizard Lady Ingfried Mensing?" She quickly placed a hand over her mouth to suppress her laughter, her body shaking from her suppressed mirth. After a moment, she regained control of herself, and her expression became serious.

"As pleasant as this is, I fear it will be the last for some time." At her words, Jon to become serious, even concerned.

"Is something wrong?

"Has something happened?" She quickly waved a hand to still him.

"No, nothing is wrong, though something has indeed happened.

"After I made my report to my master, he informed me that I have surpassed all of his expectations and that he has seen that it is time for me to take the next step." As she spoke, her tone became slightly odd.

"When my master told me, for a moment, it looked as if he wanted to say something or was hiding something. It was only there for a moment, and then it was gone."

"Do you think he was hiding something from you?"

"If he was, then I shall never know. There is no one more obtuse when they wish to be than my master.

"Still, if it were something that he knew that I needed to know, then he would have told me." Jon was unsure of that but said nothing of it and returned the conversation to its origins.

"Does that mean that you shall be a full wizard?"

"Not exactly.

"I shall be what is known as a Journeyman Wizard; you could say it is between an apprentice and a full wizard." She paused and looked both nervous and excited.

"I will have to prove that I can function on my own for several years. During that time, I am forbidden from returning to within fifty leagues of my master or the College." Jon was shocked. To him, it seemed like a form of exile. He said as much to her. She responded by shaking her head.

"It is not exile; it is a test. It is a test to prove to everyone, including myself, that I am ready to move beyond my master and his protection." It still seemed extreme to Jon, but he supposed that to them, it made sense, and it was their culture, and they made the rules.

"What will do?" Her look became uncertain.

"In truth, I do not know.

"I knew that this was going to happen one day, but it is happening much sooner than I anticipated. As far as I know, all the apprentices in the Colleges have been at least in their mid-twenties before they begin their journeying years.

"Thus, though I knew this day was coming, I thought I had at least another five years, if not more. So, I must confess that I am at a loss as to what to do next." Jon wanted to offer advice, but he had none to give.

"When do you have to leave?" She gave him a reassuring smile.

"Not for some time yet.

"While my master believes me to be ready and the other magisters of the College will accept his judgment, those of the other Colleges may not. They might say that my master is merely showing favouritism and that I am not ready. That is actually a most valid concern as an unprepared Journeyman Wizard could attract unwanted attention and unintentionally do great harm and bring the wrath of the rest of the Empire down upon us," she paused and looked down at the table while rubbing her hands, and when she spoke again her voice was small; "Led by the Witch Hunters." Jon remembered facing their kind in Marienburg and what Fritz had said. The thought of an entire army of men like the ones he had faced filled him with dread and rage.

However, in spite of himself, he could understand. He had seen what wizards could do, and the thought of a half-trained wizard running about unsupervised, possibly destroying entire villages by accident, made him shudder. He realized that Ingfried, who did not appear to have noticed his reaction, was still speaking. He thought he heard her say something about a test.

"A test?" He interjected.

"Indeed." She said, and it seemed she had recovered her spirits somewhat, though she was also clearly annoyed at what she perceived as Jon's lack of attention.

"As I was saying. In order to avoid the appearance of impropriety, my master has told me that I must undergo several tests observed by several high-ranking wizards from several of the Colleges. Unfortunately, this means that I must devote all of my time to preparing, and I will not be able to spend any time with you until it is over and done with." Her tone took on a regretful note as she said this.

"I just wanted you to know that I am well and not to be concerned."

"How long will these tests take?"

"I am not sure. In truth, I do not even know when I will be called upon to take it. My master merely told me to be prepared immediately. He will summon me when the time is right; until then, I shall study and prepare." Again she paused.

"But, enough about me.

"Tell me, was Father Wiendenfeld able to translate the book?" Jon wanted to tell her, but he paused.

It was clear that Ingfried's mind was taken with her preparations and coming to terms with the fact she would soon be leaving her home for a long time. Also, if he were, to be honest with himself, he doubted that she would be to add anything to what they knew.

"Some," he told her, "But there is more to translate." He smiled at her.

"I promise, as soon you are done with this test, I shall tell you all. Hopefully, by then, we will know more, if not everything." She smiled, though there was nervousness in her smile.

"I look forward to that." She paused, blood rushing to her face and making it glow.

"I was hoping that when I leave Altdorf…you would come with me." The latter half being said in a voice which was little more than a whisper. Jon felt his face growing red, and words deserted him. Fortunately, at that moment, he was saved.

A young man dressed as an apprentice came up and leaned down next to Ingfried's ear. He whispered something into her ear and then stood back. She gave a quiet thanks to him and rose from her seat.

"Forgive me, my master has summoned me, and I must go." Jon barely had time to give a farewell before she was gone.

Not sure what else to do, he returned to the stables and remounted his horse. He had some vague idea of simply riding around the city in order to get to know it better and consider Ingfried's request. Before he could get far from the College, however, he too was approached by someone heading the way he had just come. In his case, it was a man whose dress clearly marked him as a servant of a wealthy house. He noticed Jon and made his way towards him, halting at a respectful distance to address him.

"Pardon me, but are you Sir Jon il Cuor di Lupo?"

"I am," Jon replied. The man reached into his coat and produced a letter which he handed to Jon.

"If your answer is yes, I shall bring you to her." Curious, Jon inspected the letter. He recognized the seal as that of Highgarden, answering the question of who sent it. He broke the seal and opened it. Within was a message written in Westerosi by a flowing, feminine hand.

To Sir Jon il Cuor di Lupo, I extend you greetings, and I pray that I find you well. I am attending a theatrical performance of My Unchanging Lady by Detlef Sierck this afternoon, and I pray that you will allow me the pleasure of your company. If yes, please accompany the man who delivered this letter.

Sincerely, Lady Margaery Tyrell of Highgarden.

Jon looked up from the letter to regard the man, who patiently considered him as he waited for his's reply. Jon thought about it, but not for very long. He had nothing else to do, and he felt that it might be more enjoyable now that he knew more of the culture and was more likely to understand the humour involved, though, from the title, he doubted that there would be much humour involved. Still, he enjoyed the company of Lady Tyrell. The same troubled feelings that he had had regarding Ingfried threatened to overwhelm him, but he quickly tamped them down and spoke to the man.

"I would be honoured to accompany the lady." The man bowed.

"Very good, Sir. If you would follow me." With that, he turned and began to retrace his steps.

He led Jon through the streets of the city towards what was clearly one of the wealthier parts of the city. The streets were less crowded and far cleaner. Mansions lined both sides of the streets, and people, for the most part, forwent walking for carriages. At last, they arrived at what was clearly their destination. As the letter had stated, it was a playhouse, though far more elaborate than the one he had attended with Ingfried. Its roof completely covered it, so it appeared as if it would all take place indoors. The patrons were also clearly of a wealthier class than those from before. Near the playhouse was a large, well-appointed carriage. A groom came from the carriage and took the bridle of Jon's horse while he dismounted. As he did so, a footman got down from a seat at the back of the carriage and lowered a set of folding steps. This down, he opened the door to the carriage with a gesture which was both bow and flourish. As soon as this was done, Lady Tyrell herself emerged from within.

She wore a flowing cream-coloured gown, which included puffed shoulders, long gloves of the same colour and a small fortune in jewels. Many of these consisted of emeralds set in gold. Over all of this, she wore a forest-green cloak edged with ermine. Her hair was elaborately made up and held in place by a number of hairpins. On her right shoulder was a golden broach which had been made to resemble the rose of House Tyrell. As Jon hurried to offer her his arm, a second figure emerged.

It was a girl, and she looked to be about Jon's age. Her dress was a light green affair, far more subdued, and if Jon was being honest, modest than her mistress's dress, for the girl could only be lady's maid. She wore no jewellery, and her wheat-colored hair hung down in a simple braid. She would have been rather pretty, but her face bore several scars. Jon recognized them at once as the marks left on someone who had had the pox and survived. As he approached her, he offered Lady Margaery his arm. She smiled as she took it, and they made their way to the playhouse, the maid following behind them.

They appeared to be expected as they were immediately allowed in, and a liveried man led them to a private box which contained two mahogany stuffed chairs. The maid silently moved to the corner where a tray of wine, sweetmeats and other treats was. Their box allowed them to look directly down upon the stage where the play began, not five minutes after they arrived.

It soon became apparent that it was a tale of romance, to which Jon groaned inside. He had never cared for the songs of love, first, when he had been young because he, Robb and Theon had all agreed girls were useless and any man who pined over them like those in songs could hardly be called man. Later, he disliked them because they reminded him of something he could never have. He glanced over at Lady Margaery and saw that she, in contrast, was much taken with it. He was not sure in the dim light, but he might have seen a tear slide down her cheek. She seemed to notice his attention, for she swiftly regained control of herself and took a drink from a glass, which the maid instantly refilled as Jon swiftly looked back to the play. At last, the play came to an end, and they returned to her carriage.

"Did you enjoy the play?" She asked him.

"It was a pleasant evening?" Jon replied. He did not want to lie, and he had enjoyed her company. She seemed to know what he was thinking by the way she smiled at him.

"I suppose you would have preferred something with more blood?" He merely smiled sheepishly.

"It was kind of you to accept my invitation at short notice. Lord von Mannheim was kind enough to lend me the use of his box when I expressed my interest in seeing the performance." The mention of the elder Lord von Mannheim reminded Jon of Herman and the nobleman's gloomy predictions.

"Forgive me, My Lady, but do you know what happened to Herman von Mannheim at the Palace?" At his words, Lady Margaery's expression grew sombre.

"I fear his welcome was not as warm as my own.

"Once we arrived, he met with the Emperor's First Secretary. Why a scribe is considered so important, I do not know, but he clearly is. He gave poor Herman quite the tongue-lashing, and I fear it will be long before he is entrusted with any task of significance.

"What happened was hardly his fault," Jon said in defence of his friend.

"You may be right, but the fact remains that his mission was unsuccessful, and someone had to be blamed, and he did not have a Lady Sansa Stark to defend him." That caught Jon's attention.

"What do you mean?"

"I was not there myself, but I heard the story," said Margaery. "It seems that during a nameday tourney for my late husband, King Joffrey Baratheon, a knight attempted to compete while drunk. Joffrey was enraged and wished to have him executed on the spot. Your sister, Lady Sansa, intervened and persuaded His Grace to stay the execution."

That took Jon by surprise. He cared deeply for his half-sister, but he had never thought her terribly bright or courageous. In truth, trying to save someone seemed more like something Arya would have done.

"I would like to hear more of my sister if you are willing."

"I would enjoy that, and I hope that we shall have many opportunities in the days ahead." Jon thought her choice of words a strange one. It must have been clear what he was thinking, for she continued.

"I shall be leaving within two or three days to journey to Nuln at the Princess's command. I was hoping that you would agree to accompany me." She held up her hand to cut off any protests.

"I have guards enough; it is your company I desire. It is…good to have someone from home that I can talk to." The second part of her speech was slightly hesitant as if she were somewhat embarrassed.

Jon could understand her desire. When he had first come to this place, he, too, had wished for someone from home he could speak to. On the other hand, he did not want to leave Altdorf in case Father Wiendenfeld made a breakthrough and learned something which could help Jon and Lady Tyrell return home. He also had not given an answer to Ingfried regarding her request that he accompany her when she left Altdorf. Still, he did not know when she would leave the city. For all he knew, these tests could take days, weeks, or more. It had taken Father Wiendenfeld a considerable time to partially translate what he had of the book, and it might be some time before they could do anything with the knowledge, if they were, a small, treacherous part of his mind thought. He turned to Lady Margaery and smiled.

"I would be honoured to accompany you, My Lady."