Beck

It felt good to be back in the North. The cold air stung his lungs just right, like a cigarette to cap off sex. He took in the salty sea, the gray clouds and frigid winds as a fish to water. Their ship was completing its docking, ready to be moored long-term to the Point Farrow docks. Lance had already departed the ship; his longtime companion having gone with the advance party to debrief Lord Commander Lagberius on the events of Dragonstone and their subsequent escape. Beck volunteered to stay behind with Maester Ebrose. The mission wasn't over.

As the final mooring lines were tied into place, he watched dozens of sailors depart the ship for new postings at the once-covert base. A thousand years of having nothing to do with their intended purpose had reshaped his order into a force for covert operations globally. For the past century, men like he and Lance had deployed behind enemy lines to disrupt supplies, assassinate leadership and destabilize hostile elements. This base was not meant for normal eyes.

"We're ready for you, Ranger," a voice called from behind, snapping him back from his fond memories. A young, enlisted man – not a Black Brother – stood vigilant, eyeballing the senior ranking man with equal parts reverence and fear. Beck allowed himself a soft smile. I am dangerous, he thought to himself. But not to you, lad. Not yet.

"Very good," Beck replied. "I'll report to the Lord Commander at once."

"Oh," the man suddenly stammered. "Well, you see, he's not here, sir," he explained. "You'll be debriefed by Commander Torine." Beck frowned.

"I was told Lord Lagberius would be here personally," he explained. The young man offered a sad face as if to say: It's out of my hands.

"Sir," he said instead.

The base was mostly subterranean, with only a few facilities visible externally. Ancient mountains of ice and stone, remnants of the old Wall, surrounded the base on the west and the sea embraced its eastern perimeter. Where once, legend says, a castle stood was now no more discernable than the stones of the Wall. Beck found Lance lingering in front of the door of the Commander's office.

"He's not here?" he asked. Lance shook his head.

"At Castle Black," Lance replied with a sigh. "They haven't told me why."

"Let's find out, then," he grumbled. He knocked on the door twice, only twisting the door handle after hearing a voice quietly echo "Enter" from within. Lance followed. The office wasn't terribly large, forcing the two Rangers to stand shoulder to shoulder as the door closed behind them. Torine, a smaller man, sat at his desk reading a note. He'd lost weight visibly since they last saw him over a year ago. He looked almost frail, as if he'd aged a dozen years in one.

"Commander," Beck and Lance saluted in unison. Torine looked up, smiled emptily and bid them sit, which they did. He then went back to reading the paper in his hand. The two men sat patiently as their Commander read the note silently. He then looked up from it, glanced at each man individually, then set the paper on the desk in front of him gently and with almost purposeful precision. No one spoke. Torine used the uncomfortable silence to his advantage.

"Tell me of the Officer," Torine finally began.

"Sir," Beck answered. "Knight-Major Blythe is the acting commander-in-chief of her country –"

"What's left of her country," Torine interrupted. "Go on,"

"No excuse, sir," Beck apologized. "She was instrumental in the evacuation of the southern cities and held the lines on Dragonstone –"

"Until she didn't," he finished the sentence.

"She also led the assault of Branton's Royal Museum, sir," Lance offered. This caused Torine to look up and raise an eyebrow.

"Go on," he instructed.

"Well, sir," Lance began. "When we received word that we would be going there, it came from her mouth, but she'd been... taken? I guess, taken is the right word, hey? By the Three-Eyed Raven." Torine stared blankly ahead. "During the transit, she came-to and we made landfall after a brief stopover on the Iron Islands," he went on.

"Tell me about the state of the ship," Torine commanded quietly, almost in a bored tone. Lance looked at Beck, who answered.

"The ship was in fair condition considering her age and lack of supply, sir," Beck admitted. "However, we were not permitted free reign of the ship. The areas we did see indicated that the ship would have likely been end-of-life'd had she not been needed so... desperately, sir."

"Thank you. Continue," Torine acknowledged.

"When we made landfall at Branton, we encountered another civilian, an eastern foreigner we call Turk. He also had been taken by the Three-Eyed Raven and sent there to meet us, sir." Beck continued.

"For what purpose?"

"At the time we had just assumed survival but, truthfully, sir, we don't know," Lance replied. Beck nodded in agreement.

"Disappointing," Torine sighed. "Alright, on with it."

"We entered the facility, recovered the swords we were instructed to find, and during our departure we encountered enemy en masse. We were forced to fight in retreat to the helicopter. We lost Seneschal Meadows that day," Beck lamented. Torine's face didn't change.

"Where are the swords now?"

"I delivered them to the Quartermasters as soon as I made landfall here, sir," Lance answered honestly. Torine nodded.

"Excellent work, Ranger Lance," Torine offered limited praise. His words were there, but the tone was not. "And the remaining Maester?"

"He's being cleared by medical now, sir," Beck answered. "Shall I bring him to you?" Torine frowned.

"No, that won't be necessary," Torine answered, drumming his fingers on the desk gently before reaching into a side drawer, opening it slowly, and removing two manilla envelopes. He held them out, causing each man to reach out and take one. Beck got Lance's, so they traded. Upon opening, they found three items: first, a letter from the Lord Commander. Second, a summary of their back pay, including combat pay, hazardous duty pay, foreign service pay and numerous bonuses, tax benefits and other guarantees. It was all meaningless – money didn't exist anymore. The final item was a postcard-sized notice of increase of rank for both men. Senior Ranger, he beamed internally. A most coveted position. Most Rangers joined the Night's Watch as recruits after serving years in the regular armed forces. The best were selected for Black Brothers. Few served long enough to reach the mandatory 10-year service window before eligible for Senior Ranger. Lord Commander Lagberius had commuted the remaining eligibility and personally given them the nod. Torine looked completely nonplussed.

"Thank you, sir," the men saluted smartly. Torine offered a genuine salute in return.

"For your next assignment," he transitioned immediately to the next topic. "You will be escorting your entire party west... to Castle Black."

"Yes, sir," they acknowledged.

"You will not take the swords with you until I receive orders from the Lord Commander," Torine went on. "But rest assured, we have Black Screamers in our inventory still. You'll be outfitted as you need – you and all of your people."

"Yes, sir," they replied.

"You're to depart first thing in the morning. And, gentlemen: You will be taking the old ways."