This episode brought to you by the National Endowment for the Arts: If I promised to stop writing, they said they'd pay me. Suckers.
Chapter 10: The Times, They Are A-changin'
The midnight sun circled low overhead as Benjen Stark led his line of rangers along a low ridge, past the familiar brightly painted sign. The First Ranger allowed himself to relax slightly, and he could hear a sigh of relief from his men. They'd seen plenty of evidence of Wildlings nearby, and even experienced rangers had a healthy respect for the ferocity of their longtime foes.
No man, wilding or Black Brother, was foolish enough to violate the Witch's Peace. At least not if they were long for this world.
They passed down the ridge and into a valley, where a stand of trees sheltered a cluster of buildings. Each of house was vividly colored, and stuck out like a sore thumb from the dreary landscape of the the lands Beyond the Wall. The trees were all tropical in nature, from broad leafy palms to even several cacti. They would have looked more at home in one of the Free Cities perhaps, but they were a familiar and welcome sight to Benjen by now.
A ranger rode up to Benjen, scowling as he approached. "Tormund Giantsbane is here, with a band of at least two score. Shop's not open either."
"You think she's absent?" Benjen asked, but his scout shrugged.
"Didn't get close enough to check. Tormund's boys seem nervous, and I didn't want to go into that alone."
"They'll keep the Peace," Benjen said firmly. "But ready your weapons. We'll remind them of the wisdom of doing so."
The rangers spread out, not approaching stealthily, as there was little point in that. Tormund's group would have known they were coming, and if they had wanted to start trouble the wildling band would have struck well outside of the Witch's territory.
Indeed, Tormund and two of his men walked out some distance from the buildings to meet the Black Brothers, and Benjen dismounted. He didn't like Tormund Giantsbane; the man had killed too many of his rangers and brothers for anything less than hatred. But he respected the wildling leader. He was honorable enough in his own way, and they had parlayed before.
"You've flown far from your nest, Crow," Giantsbane called. "And so many black birdies! Something have you scared, Stark?"
"Mayhaps. What brings you this far out of your territory, Tormund? Out of bears to fuck?"
"Ha! Funny, coming from a man who thinks his dick is for naught but pissing," Tormund laughed. Then he turned serious. "She's not here, Stark. Hasn't been for a while."
That news worried Benjen, and he motioned for his rangers to leave him as Tormund's warriors stayed back a pace. He stepped forward, and kept his voice low. "Not here? But then, where?"
"I don't know. Stark, queer things are happening. People are vanishing. Entire clans, gone. It's supposed to be summer, but ice spreads from the Frostfangs. Beasts are fleeing from the Lands of Always Winter: entire herds of mammoths and ice bears." Tormund licked his lips, and glanced around. "Listen, Crow, I'll break your bloody neck if you breathe a word of this, but it frightens me. Something's not right. And the Witch is missing."
Ice entered into Benjen's veins. The Wildlings were no friends of the Watch, or of the lands they guarded, Tormund in particular. But there were strange things in the woods near Castle Black. And it was summer, yet the Wall did not weep. And the dreams of men were troubled.
"What are you saying?" Benjen asked.
Tormund ground his teeth, then looked around. "Mance has called the clans. Stark. You should come with me. I'll grant you safe passage with my band. You're a Crow, but you're a fighter, and you've honor. And more importantly, you breathe. The Kinslayer doesn't."
"It can't be Him. The Others are nothing but a shadow of the nightmares of men from long ago," Benjen whispered. "She's seen to that."
"Aye. But she's missing," Tormund replied. "When was the last time she wasn't here?"
Benjen could only shake his head. He'd been First Ranger for three years, and been a ranger for nearly a decade before that. In all that time, the Witch had never been missing from her shop, not even once.
"I'll tell you when," Tormund whispered. "When I was a boy, there was a terrible winter. A bleak, cold one. The Others came down out of their lands beyond the Frostfangs. They took people. Ice spread. And then, one day, the Witch came north. I didn't see the battle. Anyone who tells you they did is a liar and a fool. But her shop was closed for ten days. And when it reopened, the Others were gone again."
"Maybe she's gone to deal with them," Benjen offered. "And this summer will resume its normal course."
"She's been gone two moons at least. We've had word," Tormund said. "What of your patrols? Haven't they come this far north and seen she's not here? Isn't that why you've come?"
For a moment, Benjen debated not answering, but while he hated wildings, they were men. Against his true foes, he would ally with Tormund or even the Lord of Bones in a heartbeat, for at least they had one.
"None of our patrols that have gone beyond sight of the Wall have returned in two months," Benjen stated. "And many who have seen strange things. And they've put down more than a few of our missing patrols."
"That far south?" Tormund asked, his ruddy face going pale. "Stark, if the dead are rising that close to southern lands...you need to come to meet Mance. I know you call him a turncloak and a bastard and a dozen other things, but ice and bone, man, something's wrong. I've seen unburned bodies rise before, but not below the Witch's Shop. And never in summer."
"I need to find the Witch. We have to have answers. Where are the clans gathering?"
"The Fist of the First Men. Where the Others were turned back," Tormund said. "It's a holy place, where more than one god lies dead."
Grimly, Benjen nodded. "I'll send back word. It will be hard to convince some: there have been far more raiders of late."
"They're not raiding, Crow. They're running," Tormund spat. "Some think that the Kinslayer is rising again. They hope to find safety in the south."
"The Night King is long dead," Benjen said, then paused. Beyond the wall, death was not always permanent.
"I think they're fools myself. It's just the Others coming south again. We defeated them before, we'll do it again. With or without you Crows, or even the Witch," Tormund growled. Then he relented. "Be easier with your help, however."
"Against the dead, all of the living are my brothers," Benjen promised. "We'll see about the Witch, and I'll let the Old Bear know. Winter is Coming."
"Aye. Up here, it always is," Tormund agreed. Then, he did something Benjen didn't expect. He offered his arm. "Good luck to you, Stark. Find her."
Benjen gripped Tormund's arm, feeling the hot blood under the furs. "And to you. Goddesses watch over you, Giantsbane."
"Up here?" Tormund gave a bitter laugh. "There's no goddesses up here, Stark. Only the Witch."
After that, Tormund returned to his band, who soon departed. The Rangers ventured into the small town, where a girl was just turning around a sign on the window of a shop from "closed" to "open." Benjen wondered why they bothered. Most of his rangers couldn't read, and he knew that it was a rare wildling indeed that had their letters.
"Good morrow to you, sir," the girl said brightly. Gilly, Benjen thought her name was. Like most of the girls who lived in the Witch's Village, she would have been abandoned there by her parents, a mouth they couldn't afford to feed, left as an offering to the Witch.
"Is Lady Wiz here?" Benjen asked hopefully.
Gilly shook her head, looking concerned. "Our mistress has been gone for some time, sir. She had a visit from a raven, and departed for the North. Said she had things to attend to."
"A Raven?" Benjen asked, surprised. While the Black Brothers had long offered to give Wiz a rookery, the Witch of the North had always refused, saying she was neutral and did not meddle in the affairs of men.
"Yes, at least I think so. It was a seven colored bird, and glimmered like the rainbow. Never seen such a thing in all my years sir. Oh, begging your pardon, you'll want to shop. Our stock is running a bit low, I'm afraid, with the mistress gone. But there's still warm clothes and hot food, and beds if you need them."
Benjen suppressed a sigh, but nodded. He didn't need another polkadot scarf or a color changing toothbrush, but it was traditional to buy something from the Witch's Shop whenever you visited. Even if the rangers typically burned the junk or simply threw it away. It wouldn't do to get on the bad side of Wiz. Though she was kind and pleasant, she was also the closest thing to a god Beyond the Wall.
No one knew precisely when the Witch of the North had first appeared, but it had been not long after the Andal Invasion of the Kingdoms of the First Men. That meant that Wiz, the Witch of the North, was at least two thousand years old, and perhaps far older than even that. The earliest mentions in the Watch's Records of Wiz indicated she'd simply appeared one day, saving a patrol of Rangers from an attack by the risen dead. She'd not simply destroyed the corpses as most men did, but instead guided the souls of the fallen to their eternal rest.
Not long after, Wiz's Shop and Sundries had appeared. There had been a clash of Wildlings and Black Brothers nearby, which had swiftly ended when Wiz had walked out of a swirl of snow and politely but firmly informed the combatants that she would tolerate no violence or slaughter in her lands. Those who objected soon realized that Wiz could do far more than guide restless spirits.
Benjen had seen Wiz fight exactly once, though fight wasn't really the right word. A giant had gotten drunk, and had attempted to take one of Wiz's girls, for purposes that made Benjen shudder to contemplate. The brute had just grabbed the screaming woman when Wiz walked out of a shimmer in the air. She had raised a hand, and with a word, sent a spear of ice larger than a man through the giant's chest. Then she had burned the body with a casual gesture and sent the spirit on. She'd looked sad as she did so, but there had been no mercy in her actions.
Perhaps magic was dead below the Wall, but above it, that was not the case. And the Witch of the North would have made even the strongest of the Bloodmages of Old Valyria whimper in fear.
And if something could best the Witch...Benjen shivered, and bought a novelty pen shaped like a 'giraffe,' whatever that was. He then sat down to compose a hasty letter back to Castle Black.
Winter was coming.
Dice clattered against wood, and Megumin let out a hoot of triumph. "My Dragon swoops down upon your weak cavalry, and with its flames purifies their souls and sends them to the next life."
"You do," Kazuma agreed. Then he grinned maliciously. "But your poor beast has betrayed you."
"Ha! Your army is shattered, broken! You have only a few pathetic pieces which will soon I-" Megumin cut off as Kazuma moved his light horse through a gap in Megumin's lines, left by her dragon's vicious assault on Kazuma's vulnerable troops. The horse stopped beside Megumin's Queen (she had insisted on having a queen instead of a king, and as it turned out Kazuma had a specially made figure for Nymeria of the Rhyone). With a finger, Kazuma knocked over the Queen, his horse standing triumphant.
"That's cheating!" Megumin wailed.
"That's Cyvasse," Kazuma told her with a shrug. "Don't matter that you killed more of my pieces. Your queen is dead, and my king yet lives. I win."
"NOOOOOOO!" Megumin cried, falling to her knees and clutching at her hair. "It's not fair! How do you keep winning!? I was even rolling better than you for once!"
"Hey, you're getting better. You had me up against a wall: I had to sacrifice a bunch of pieces to get you to leave yourself open," Kazuma pointed out.
Megumin sniffed and looked away, her lip sticking out in a pout. "You could let me just win for once."
Kazuma raised an eyebrow at her. "Really?"
"Well no, but you could at least pretend and let me think I had," Megumin grumbled as she began to pick up her pieces.
Outside, a steady rain was falling as a summer squall had blown in from the Narrow Sea. Despite her reluctance to spend time inside, Megumin had been persuaded to partake in a gaming session with the prince, and to her surprise had discovered a passion for Cyvasse, especially the "modified and expanded rules" that Kazuma had brewed up.
They had been back in King's Landing for a week, and already both of them had explored more of the Red Keep than Kazuma had managed in his first 12 years of life. They had delved deep into the Dragon Pits (with Sandor and Chomusuke following along) gone through the kitchens and servants quarters, and generally caused enough mayhem that the court was already discussing the changes that the Prince's new lady had wrought.
"Hey, whatcha up to?" Cecily called, striding into the room without bothering to knock. Yunyun looked up from the book she had been reading in the corner with Myrcella and Tommen and smiled.
"They're playing Cyvasse, but we're reading about the history of King's Landing. I need to know all about what it's like to live here if I'm going to make friends."
"Well from what I've heard you've managed to get quite the start on that already. Just how many tea parties have you had?" Cecily asked in amusement.
"Lots!" Myrcella said happily. "It's been so nice! Mother never let me have tea with people like Lollys Stokeworth, but she's actually very kind."
"Well, you have fun with that. Megumin, Eddy wants you and Kazuma."
"Why? We didn't even do anything!" Megumin protested even before she remembered that they had, in fact, gone down to the kitchen and made off with a tray of pastries that they had shared with their siblings, which probably counted as "something."
"Oh relax, he's got something fun planned for the both of you. He said something about giving you a real magic sword," Cecily laughed, plucking a pastry off the tray and taking a bite. "Go on, I'm supposed to give lessons to the rest of the munchkins while you two do that."
"What sorts of lessons?" Tommen asked suspiciously. He was growing to share his older brother's dislike of the maesters' instruction, if for no other reason than that Tommen considered Kazuma to be his own personal idol and attempted to emulate nearly everything his big brother did.
"Fun ones! We're gonna learn about the goddesses and why Aqua is clearly the best one. Oh calm down, Yunyun, I'm keeping it appropriate for children."
Kazuma and Megumin hurried out, if for no other reason than to escape religious instruction, even if Cecily's tended towards the colorful.
"You ever think it's weird that Aqua's a maiden goddess and her followers are so…" Kazuma waved his hand vaguely back toward Cecily, who did indeed encapsulate just about every negative stereotype of the Axis Sect in one person.
"I dunno, are you a virgin NEET and still a pervert?" Megumin teasted, then whooped and ran off as Kazuma raced furiously after her. There was the sound of swearing from behind them, and the two children turned to see Sandor lumbering along after them in leather armor, Chomusuke bounding along at his side.
A few people had protested that dire wolves the size of ponies did not belong in the Red Keep. Megumin had argued that the wolves were not that big, and upon further inspection all three of the dire wolves had seemed to have shrunk down to be smaller even than a normal wolf. Robb had been rather baffled by it, but Megumin had been delighted to discover she was in possession of a magical familiar.
Of course, when they had gone riding the wolves had suddenly been the size of horses again, which had only made Robb mutter under his breath. Grey Wind had looked a bit ashamed and seemed to have shrunk slightly. Until Chomusuke nipped at him and appeared to taunt her brother, at which point Grey Wind had gone back to being the biggest out of the three. Robb had given up and simply accepted the fact that the wolf pups they'd found waiting for them by the side of the road were indeed magical blessings from the goddesses as Megumin had always claimed.
Interestingly, Megumin's father appeared not to have been surprised in the slightest that they had variably sized wolves, which considering that he now knew that three of his children were budding sorceresses was perhaps not as shocking as it could have been.
After a dash across the courtyard to the Tower of the Hand that left them both slightly sodden, Megumin and Kazuma hurried up to Lord Eddard's study, where he was hard at work.
"Damn you Robert, I never asked for this," the Hand was muttering as he signed parchments.
"Hey dad, what's up?" Megumin said, hurrying into the room.
Eddard looked up, smiling at the two out of breath children as Sandor took up a position outside of the Hand's door. He was adamant that the prince wasn't to leave his sight again, as while Sandor didn't know about the bandits, he did think that Kazuma had nearly been killed by a cataclysmic event, and seemed to believe that he could have somehow prevented it. That might even have been true, as most bandits would have taken one look at the Hound and found someone else to bother.
"Two things. First, there's to be a Grand Tourney in honor of my appointment as Hand and to celebrate your betrothal. Ravens are going out today to all the Great Houses, and it will be held in six weeks time."
"A tourney?!" Megumin squealed. "That's so amazing!"
"Eh, they're OK. Dad has them all the time," Kazuma said with a shrug. Then he eyed Megumin and added. "But I'm sure it will be interesting to see your first one."
"Will there be a Melee?! And a joust?! And what about archery?! Kazuma should compete in the archery competition!" Megumin declared.
Kazuma blushed and rubbed the back of his head. "I mean, if you think so…"
"You totally have to! Do you think your archery skills are magical? Is that cheating? We should totally do it, but we'll have to make sure you don't get caught by the Master of Games and-"
"The prince is free to compete, and I hardly think magic is likely to be forbidden as most do not believe it exists beyond the blessings granted by the Faith of the Seven," Eddard said with a chuckle. "Thoros of Myr is likely to compete with his fiery blade if what Robert claims is true. But this news is not the only reason I called you here."
"Oh?" Megumin asked, looking anxious and thinking of stolen sweets.
"There's someone I would introduce to you. Come." Standing, her father led Megumin and Kazuma to a large empty chamber within the Tower. Inside they found only a man sitting at a plain table in the corner, the rest of the room bare stone.
"Ah, you are here, that is good," the man said, standing and taking up three wooden swords. He was of middling height, and had a wrinkled bald head and a large nose, along with a large golden earring hanging from each ear. Megumin decided he looked a bit like a pirate, which was pretty cool.
"Megumin, Kazuma, this is Syrio Forel, once the First Sword of Braavos, and a master Water Dancer," Eddard said.
"Dancing?" Megumin asked, making a face. Yunyun liked dancing, but Megumin thought it was silly.
"He's a blade master?" Kazuma asked, tilting his head to one side. "He looks like a pirate."
"I know right?!" Megumin gasped, a wide grin spreading on her face.
"A pirate? Syrio is no brigand. No, I am here to teach you the Water Dance. Normally, Syrio does not teach two boys at once, but the Hand has offered triple the pay, so Syrio accedes."
"She's not a boy," Kazuma snapped, his face flushing.
"Girl, boy, it does not matter. A Water Dancer is a blade; no more."
"Wait, are you really letting me take sword lessons?" Megumin asked, turning to her father, her heart fluttering in excitement.
"Since it seems it is hardly possible to prevent you from attempting to learn, I decided it was best if you had a proper teacher," Eddard said, giving Megumin a quick hug. "Go on. It will be good for both you and the prince to learn the blade. As he seems to favor the Water Dancer's style already, the King and I have decided to attempt a more novel method of arms instruction for the both of you."
"I have heard you know the blade, boy," Syrio said, tossing Kazuma a sword, which he fumbled out of the air. "Let us see if that is true."
For a moment, Kazuma looked as though he were going to beg off, but then he rolled his shoulders, then kicked off his boots, which made Syrio's eyebrows raise. "Yeah, OK. Guess it wouldn't kill me to practice a little."
Kazuma fell into his fighting stance, standing up on his toes, sword arm forward, off arm raised behind him.
"Interesting. Have you studied the Water Dancers path before, boy?" Syrio asked, cocking his head to one side.
"Nah, not really. Just, you know, figured a few things out."
"Hmm. Let us see." Syrio's blade suddenly flicked out like a snake, and Kazuma danced to the side, slapping the sword away. Syrio pursued, and the air was filled with the sharp clatter of wood on wood. At first, Kazuma had a confident grin on his face, easily evading Syrio's attacks and the dancing master barely avoiding the prince's strikes.
However, the grin soon slipped from Kazuma's face, and Megumin realized that Syrio was pressing the prince ever harder, his blade moving faster and in increasingly complex patterns, then in what appeared to be utterly random attacks. Now Kazuma was sweating, his face a mask of concentration as he continued the dance. No longer was Kazuma attacking, only barely fending off Syrio. Then, Syrio feinted, and Kazuma failed to counter properly. He dodged the first attack, but the Syrio delivered three swift strikes to Kazuma's arm, causing him to drop the sword.
"Friggin' ow," the prince grumbled, but Megumin raced to his side.
"That was so cool! Why didn't you fight like that before?! You really did look like you were dancing!" she spun to Syrio, and the sword master actually took half a step back, shock spreading over his face, for Megumin's eyes were glowing with an unearthly red light. "You have to teach me how to do that!"
"That would be what Syrio has been hired to do," the dancing master said, recovering his composure. "What of you, girl?"
"I'm not as good as Kazuma, but I do know one trick," Megumin said, picking up Kazuma's sword and reaching down to take off her own shoes.
"And what is-" Syrio cut off as Megumin quickly threw both her shoes at the man, then jumped at him, sword swinging wildly. Syrio delivered a sharp rap to the back of Megumin's legs as he dodged to the side, causing Megumin to cry out and fall to the ground.
"Not bad, girl, but you betray yourself. Your eyes, your hands, your breath, if you are to try to catch your foe unawares, first you must learn how to fool yourself," Syrio said sternly. He nodded to himself. "Again, but no foolishness this time."
Megumin didn't last nearly as long as Kazuma, but Syrio still seemed pleased. "You have not been learning this brutish flailing about you Westerosi call fighting. This is good; you have less to unlearn." Turning to Eddard, the swordmaster inclined his head. "I believe these two can learn the Water Dance, Lord Stark."
"Excellent. I'm certain they'll both be eager, and well behaved students," Eddard said. He gave Megumin a hug and Kazuma an approving pat on the shoulder. "You did well, my prince. I'm certain your father will be pleased to see your progress, and to see you compete in the archery competition."
Kazuma flushed to hear the praise, and turned back to the lesson, paying just as rapt attention as Megumin was. While a normal person might have wondered about being ordered to go and stalk cats, to Megumin, such a lesson made perfect sense: after all, if one wished to be graceful, what better way than to seek out and capture the beasts, thereby claiming their power as your own?
Cast of Characters
Wiz as; Crastor (kinda, but fuck that guy)
Gilly as; Much happier
Benjen Stark as: I'm sure he'll be fine. No one's died yet, right?
Tormund Giantsbane as; This is the book version, guys. He's like 60.
Syrio Forel as; Possibly a pirate?
And The Kinslayer as; The Lord of the Others
And the Cast of A Song of Ice and Fire in a mad, mad world.