Chapter 4

266AC: Oldtown

The Citadel Library's Hidden Vaults

Brandon

In the darkness of the night, Brandon sneaked inside the library under his modified Invisible Illusion charm and Muffle charm. The Invisible Illusion charm consisted of the Disillusionment Charm from Harry Potter and the Invisibility spell from Skyrim, while the Muffle illusion charm was a full replica of the Elder Scrolls Muffle spell.

In order to finish the Citadel collection, he only had to copy the last few hundred books in the hidden vault. And he was going to complete it tonight. The Wild Wolf slowly made his way towards the locked door beneath the Citadel library and a quick 'Alohomora' later he was inside the hidden vault.

The room was quite dark and filled with dust. Brandon quickly scanned the area for any life force and found none. "Lumos!" Snapping his fingers caused a white light to light up at the tip. He looked around the room as a few bookshelves were filled with old books. "Let's see here," The Wild Wolf murmured, "Lives of Four Kings, The Fires of the Freehold, Blood and Fire…ohu…what's this," He ventured into the centre of the vault room and discovered a book inside a small obsidian glass dome.

Brandon touched the glass and quickly felt the slight magic within it. 'Dragonglass.' He smirked and stored the dome inside his pocket realm as his eyes focused on the book. The book was golden-coloured and had a rising black dragon symbol on it. "Storm and Fire," He read the High Valyrian name of the book and picked it up.

The book held knowledge of lost Blood Magic, Dragon Rituals and Shadowbinding. Brandon closed the book and stored it in his pocket realm because he decided to hold onto it instead of copying it. After a quick duplicate charm, the last vault of the Citadel was copied successfully and with it, his reason to visit Oldtown was complete.

The Oldtown Port

The next morning, Brandon walked towards their docked ship with Shiera and her little sister. Shiera's little sister had heterochromia eyes like her. The young girl's right eye was dark blue like her elder sisters' and her left eye was bright purple. Her hair was more blonde than her elder sister. "Sylvia, am I correct?"

The younger girl nodded. "Yes, my lord."

"Oh…please call me Brandon." The Winterfell heir began, "I prefer to be treated as a friend rather than a lord."

"Of course, my lor—I mean, Brandon." Sylvia shyly spoke.

"My lord, it would be very impolite if my sister called you by your first name." Shiera voiced. "At least the lady has some common courtesy," Rodrik mumbled from the side as he carried both Shiera and Sylvia's luggage. The Wild Wolf chuckled, "Don't mind Ser Rodrik's scowled face, Lady Shiera, he was born with it. But I insist. I would like to be Sylvia's friend first. And friends should call each other by their first names."

The silver-blonde beauty reluctantly nodded her head, "If you insist…"

Brandon smiled, "Well, I do insist. Sylvia can call me by my first name."

The Winterfell heir along with his companions and guards aboard the ship as Rodrik went to talk to the captain. A crew member of the ship approached him and bowed slightly, "Valar morghulis." Brandon blinked, examining the man with curiosity. The man appeared and walked like any other common person. The Wild Wolf extended his senses with magic and quickly recognized who he was and greeted him back, "Valar dohaeris."

"Is it done?" Asked the Winterfell heir.

"It is done, master." The man answered in a whisper. "Good." Brandon nodded and began, "I want you to head to Winterfell separately from us," He handed him a letter, "Once you arrive there give this letter to Victor Poole. He will employ you as his assistant steward of my house."

"Of course, master." The man answered and left.

Almost an hour later Ser Rodrik stood stoically on the port side of the ship. "What are you looking at, Ser Rodrik?" Brandon asked. "Nothing, my lord. Just standing guard." The northern knight answered. The Winterfell heir shrugged and was about to head back to his cabin when he spotted three figures heading towards their ship.

Brandon was able to recognize two of them. Velerad, a house guard, was the young knight who was leading them, while the tall and thin older man was Archmaester Boros. The last of the group was a young hooded woman.

'The butcher's daughter no doubt,' The Wild Wolf smirked. 'But why was Archmaester Boros with them?'

The three figures boarded the ship as Rodrik looked at Velerad with a slight glare. "Archmaester Boros," Brandon's quick call drew their attention, "What brings you here?"

"Lord Stark," The old maester nodded, "I regret the sudden arrival, but I have decided to travel to the North with you if you permit me to."

"Are you certain, archmaester?" The Winterfell heir asked. He conducted a quick mind scan on him to determine if there were any ulterior motives, but found none. He had a genuine interest in learning more. "Although having another maester in Winterfell would be quite helpful, I must warn you the North is a quite harsh place."

"I am certain, my lord. I would like to see what the lands of the First Men could teach me." Archmaester Boros replied.

"Well, if you are certain then please be my guest." Brandon smiled and turned his attention towards the young couple, "Ser Velerad, care to explain?" He asked with amusement.

The young knight who fell in love nodded and began to describe their love story, while Brandon patiently waited, "While I understand the reason behind your actions," He began, "However, I must ask, if both of you think this is thought properly?"

"I have, my lord." Said the love-struck knight. "I have fallen for her and will not dishonour her."

"Velerad…" Rodrik sighed in frustration, "We understand you have…" his eyes slightly looked at Brandon, "Proclaimed your love to this fair lady but do you think she will be able to adjust to the North?."

The love-struck knight looked slightly down and was about to reply but the Wild Wolf quickly spoke up, "He's referring to the fact that you fucked her without thinking of any consequences, but do you believe she'll be able to live in the North?"

"M-m-my lord!" Rodrik and Velerad blushed and stuttered while the hooded lady slightly took a step back in embarrassment. "What?" Brandon snorted, "Stop being a pansy and answer the question, ser Velerad!"

"If I may, m'lord," The woman took two steps forward and pulled her hood down. She had softly curling brown hair and large brown eyes with a slender but womanly figure. "My name is Talla, I am the daughter of the butcher near the Thieves market and I understand your concern m'lord. But I assure you by the Seven, I have thought this through and I will happily the North as my new home."

"Are you certain my lady?" Brandon asked. "North is very harsh and cold. Unlike the Reach's summer harvest, we have summer snow. Colds are a more common cause of death for people than starvation and only the old gods have the authority in our lands."

"I understand, m'lord and I am certain," Talla replied, "I love ser Velerad and I will happily raise our children in the North."

The Winterfell heir nodded and quickly conducted a mental scan on her. He quickly realized that she was just a love-struck teenage girl, like any other Southerner maiden, who believed life was like those bard songs and old nan's stories. He was certain that she would run back south as soon as the next winter came because she didn't fully comprehend the reality of the situation.

But even he couldn't deny their love for each other or maybe it was just hormonal attraction. Hell, he could at least understand Velerad's reason. The woman was quite the looker for a common-born girl. So, he started to use light legilimency on her mind to mould her into the northern lifestyle.

'The girl's simple-mindedness and dimwittedness is a positive thing,' Brandon thought, 'If she had a strong will then light legilimency wouldn't have worked.' Once he finished his mind moulding he addressed everyone. "If you're sure, please welcome aboard, my lady."

"Ser Rodrik, I think it would be good if you talked to the captain about our departure. I believe we've already had enough surprises for today." The northern knight nodded and walked towards the captain's quarter.

One Week Later

Barrowton

Brandon walked down the Cog-ship with his companions in tow. His father, Lord Rickard Stark was waiting for him on shore. "Father," He called, "It's good to see you again."

"Aye," Rickard replied. "It has been too long son." The Lord of Winterfell looked towards Brandon's companions and asked, "Who are they?"

"Oh! Right! Allow me to introduce to you," The Wild Wolf began, "These beautiful ladies are Shiera and Sylvia. Shiera is my personal maid and Sylvia is my friend. The old maester is Archmaester Boros. He came with us to see the lands of the First Men."

Rickard raised a curious eyebrow, "Personal maid?" Brandon nodded with a smile and mouthed 'later' to his father. "Welcome to the North, my ladies, archmaester." The older Stark greeted.

"We thank you for your hospitality, Lord Stark." The sisters bowed with grace.

"My most sincere gratitude to you, Lord Stark." Boros bowed and greeted back.

"Come," Rickard ordered, "Lord and Lady Dustin have prepared a small feast for us."

Later on, Brandon and his father sat with the rulers of House Dustin inside the Barrow Hall castle. Lord Dustin was trying to make small talk with Rickard while the lady of the house gushed over Brandon. "How is the pie, lord Brandon?" asked the Dustin matriarch.

"It is very delicious, my lady," The young Stark replied, "Do give my thanks to your cooks."

"Please, lord Brandon," She giggled, "No need to be so formal, you can call me Aunty Bella. I was your father's distant cousin from the House Locke before I was married to my husband."

"If you insist, Aunty Bella. You can also call me Bran if you like." He replied with a smile.

"Willas, I don't see your son Willam here, is he alright?" Rickard asked. "My apologies Lord Stark but I have sent him to be fostered by House Glover." Lord Dustin answered, "He left for Deepwood Motte two moons ago."

The Winterfell lord nodded, "Glovers are a strong bunch. That's a nice house you chose for your son."

"Thank you, Lord Stark." Willas bowed. "May we retire for the night, my lord. I feel like young lord Brandon and his companions are quite tired from their sea voyage." Rickard nodded and they all retired for the night.

The Winterfell heir meditated on the bed as he thought of a proper way to start economic growth in the North. There were many ways he could try to increase trade with Essos. One way could be wood trade but that would require a lot of manpower and investment.

Searching for the money his boss gifted him could be an option, but it would only be problematic in the long run. His desire was for the North to stand on her own two feet, to fight and win her own battles, and to develop on her own merits. If he suddenly introduces a lot of money, it's likely that his house will use it to build a strong holdfast and feed the poor.

Brandon understood that strong fortification would protect many holds in the North and feeding the poor in long winter is kind of a necessity, so they don't turn to cannibalism but if they only did that house Stark would run out of money sooner rather than later.

And despite how much he loved his father, he knew Rickard was not great at handling money. His father wouldn't throw unnecessary feasts or anything but he will definiately use most of the money to feed the poor.

A knock on his door pulled him out of his thoughts. "Are you awake, Bran?" Rickard asked from outside his room. "Come in." He replied and his father walked inside his room.

"My apologies, son," Rickard smiled lightly, "I had planned to talk to you in Winterfell, but I couldn't wait any longer."

"How have you been?"

Brandon smiled, "I'm fine, Father but I missed you, Mother and Ned."

"How is Mother? Is Ned doing well?" Asked the Winterfell heir.

"Aye. Your mother is doing well, Bran. Maester Walys confirmed that she and the Stark inside of her are healthy." The older Stark answered. "Ned is also doing fine. He is a quiet and well-behaved child."

"Tell me, when are you going back to the Citadel?"

"I'm not." The Stark lord raised his eyebrow as Brandon continued, "I have learned all that was to learn in Citadel and I have copied their entire library. All sixty-thousand books are now ours."

"Sixty-thousand! By the Old Gods, Bran. How did you manage to do all of that within a year?" Rickard asked with shock. "Magic," Brandon replied with a smirk.

"I'm more surprised that we didn't get any pirate attacks in Ironman's Bay." Said the Wild Wolf. "I used to think the Ironborns were always active there."

"Yes, but Quellon Greyjoy, the current lord of the Iron Islands is trying his very best to reform the ways of the Ironborn." Rickard nodded, "He has almost outlawed raiding, pillaging and rape and trying his best to integrate them with the rest of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Are you sure he is even a Greyjoy?" Brandon asked with sarcasm. Rickard chuckled, "I'm sure many of his bannermen ask themselves the same question. Bloody pirates."

"Anyway, who are those two Valyrian girls?" The Winterfell Lord asked.

"You haven't asked Shiera?" Brandon replied with a question. "I would have but seeing as night has fallen, it would have been very impolite to ask her any questions at this moment," Rickard answered. The Wild Wolf nodded and told his father a modified version of their story that he and Shiera made up together while travelling at sea.

The Winterfell heir wanted to keep her speciality a secret to only himself because he knew his father was too honourable to use a foreign spy and he didn't want to announce his spy mistress's identity to the rest of his family. Shiera would only be his to use.

"I see." The older Stark nodded as Brandon completed telling the modified story. "Don't worry son, those two girls are under House Stark's protection."

"Thank you, Father. But Shiera will still be my personal maid." The Winterfell heir stated strongly.

"Oh?" Rickard gave a playful smile, "Any special reason why you want the lady as your personal maid? I think you are still too young to fully appreciate her beauty, son."

"She is well educated, Father," Brandon said calmly, "It would be a waste to make her do household chores. Besides, I will need her for many of my future plans for the North."

"And what plans might those be?"

Brandon smiled, "I'll tell you when we are back in Winterfell."

"Fine." Rickard nodded. "Sleep well, son. And always remember, Winter Is Coming."

"Aye, Father." The Winterfell Lord left his room.

Brandon lay back on his bed with a sigh. 'Father is right, winter is coming.' He thought, 'Winter…the very thing that makes the North unyielding is also the thing that is keeping it from rising.' The Wild Wolf knew that Starks hadn't always been the brightest of the bunch but Winter is nature itself. How could he fight nature? Maybe if he had time his 'Essence of Archmage' would give him enough power to bend nature itself, but time is a luxury he didn't have.

'How do I bend Winter?' Brandon thought in frustration. 'Winter….winter…winter….WAIT! I don't need to bend Winter, I just need to monetize it.' He grinned as some ideas popped up in his head to monetize winter itself. 'Winter truly is coming.'

Thank you for reading.

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