Chapter 67: ' Rightful Reason '
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Chapter 67: ' Rightful Reason '
Hello everyone, small communication:
I have changed the title of the previous chapter.
I simply found a more suitable one... This chat with Lord Stark will be longer than expected...
Happy Reading!
------------------------------
POV: Duncan;
On a hill about 300 feet from the camp.
About ten minutes after a knight warned a powerful Northern Lord...
I was at a grassy promontory about 30 feet above the plain.
Around me, I had had my servants carry four lit braziers. The coal and whale oil made that cold early spring night much more bearable.
I was still covered in wool and fur. In my previous life, I was allergic to wool. Even though I knew this new body was not, I had always been wary and reluctant to wear it.
I still remembered the unbearable itching and sneezing that haunted me for days even if I accidentally touched a single tuft.
Now that I had reached Paladin level [3], that instinct was finally extinguished. A Paladin at that level would become immune to any disease. Common or magical.
Finally, the voices had become faint. Those damn Heart Trees were everywhere on the stretch of Tomb Land.
I'd learned to discern the distance between me and a tree when the Ancients tormented me with their Level Up chanting.
I knew that I could even climb up to Level [5], but I didn't want to go through the process yet. Many things were still unclear to me on the subject.
For example:
Would the other Paladins and Clerics level up directly as soon as I did?
Or would they simply be allowed to rise to that level?
Was I the one who decided the limit barrier?
Would the others also have to gain experience? Could they accumulate experience like me? Was I a special case?
What are the differences?
These and many other questions plagued me. Read latest chapters at nov(e)lbin.com Only
I was faithful to the philosophy of General Sun Tzu taught to me by Seraphinus:
[If you know the enemy and yourself, your victory is certain. If you know yourself but not the enemy, your chances of winning and losing are equal. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.]
I didn't want to grant any more powers to my possible enemy. Especially not now that I was likely to face the paladin of the Drowned God.
If Aeron Greyjoy, Balon's younger brother and cleric of the Drawned God, had access to 3rd level spells, he might have even been able to turn the tide of the sea battle.
Not so much for power but more for show...
I couldn't risk it.
I looked again at the case beside me. A gift for Lord Stark for his 26th birthday, which would be less than a month from now.
A gift very similar to the one given to Domeric.
Master Thobo Mott was truly an artist and a genius in the field. I had only explained the process to him in broad outline and not in detail the first time I told him about the Damascus Steel formula, and he had already managed to guess many of the missing parts himself.
Unfortunately, the Damascus formula was only effective for blades, not armor. The key flexibility that increased the efficiency of a blade was useless for defense-focused plates.
However, Thobo had reassured me that this new method alone had given him many points of inspiration to also improve the defense of any Northern warrior. It was only a matter of time.
Thobo had guaranteed that within two moons at the latest, he would already be able to bring out of the forge a new prototype of steel plates useful for all types of armor made of metal, including studded leather armor.
The revolution in the weapons industry was finally about to begin. It was no coincidence that I had invested so much time and gold to make it possible. Not a single mistake was allowed.
Even the steel of Damascus was reason enough to start a continental war. Perhaps it was even more dangerous than Jon Snow's true identity.
It was almost ironic that the First Men, a people formerly oppressed by the Andals mainly because of their better weapons, would soon have a monopoly on the best steel on the market. Not everything was finished yet.
There were still some key details to discuss with the man who was approaching me.
I had waited for this moment as long as possible. There was no more time. We were going to have to make the most of every single day of this spring and summer.
[True Winter was indeed coming.]
Now that the man was less than 30 feet from me, I noticed that his [8] hovering above him was slightly larger and darker since I last saw him in Torrhen's Square four years ago.
I had created a more accurate estimate between levels based on those small differences.
For the same level:
A number [X]
Small and light green= a recent level up from 1 to 33% experience.
Medium and deep green= 33 to 66% experience accumulated.
Large and dark green= 66% to 99%.
Ned Stark was in the latter bracket. I was certain that four years earlier he was in the middle tier [8].
Certainly, the man was still committed to his training despite his many commitments and duties.
"Lord Stark. Thank you for coming so far.
I thank you, my Lord, for complying with this peculiar and uncomfortable request of mine." I said, bowing like a true vassal of the North.
"Lord Duncan. No trouble or inconvenience to me whatsoever.
It is my pleasure to finally be able to discuss this with you in person. I have yet to thank you properly for your recent actions on Bear Island.
Know, young lord, that I sincerely believe your designation as 'Hero of the North' is well deserved." Lord Stark said with a sincere smile.
"... Thank you, my Lord... Emm forgive me for asking.
I mean no offense, Lord Stark... but...
Are you sure you're feeling well, my lord?
We could even postpone our chat until tomorrow or the next day if that's all right." He suggested sincerely, noting his cadaverous appearance.
Now that he was near the light of the braziers, I saw the pitiful look on Lord Stark's face. His face begged for mercy and pleaded for a few hours of rest.
"... You are not the first to tell me this, Lord Duncan...
Is my appearance that pitiful?" Ned asked in a slightly embarrassed tone.
"If I'm being honest, my Lord. I have certainly seen you on better days. You do look like a man who needs to sleep for at least two whole days and nights, Lord Stark." I said.
"You're probably not wrong, young Lord... I admit I've been a little overworked over the past week.
But I am confident I can still hold a pleasant chat with one of my loyal vassals. I hope you're not going to bring me the news that is too... ...pressing and burdensome news, Lord Duncan.
Ahah..." Ned tried to blunt some of the natural tension that was building between our gazes.
The protector of the North seemed ready to face a crucial negotiation for the survival of the North...
Well, at least he came to this appointment in the right spirit. I would have felt really bad hitting poor Ned's shoulders too casually. ' I thought as I tried to find a solution to Lord Stark's sorry state.
"... My Lord... I could help you with your condition.
Your brother, Brandon, and your father Lord Rickard may they always rest in peace, has done great harm to Lady Dustin's heart and honor...
William's affair not long afterward inevitably severed the relationship between House Dustin and House Stark...
But fear not, my Lord. I have long been engaged in trying to redress and blunt the blades that Lady Dustin was covertly sharpening to exact her, if I may say, ''partially justified'' revenge.
Lord Jorah Mormont is the key to settling that accumulated grudge once and for all.
I would ask you the courtesy of casting, within reason, a wary eye in the future when dealing with Lady Barbrey.
I cannot guarantee that she will always be kind and helpful to you, or your lady wife, but at least she will be to your heirs, my Lord." Explained Lord Duncan calmly.
Ned pondered those words for a moment.
The man could not help thinking back to sad and tragic moments in the past. He had seen Lord William strike a fatal blow to Lord Gerolt Hightower himself, unfortunately, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard took William with him to the grave.
"I understand... I will try to do everything I can.
I've long wanted to try and find a way to make up for the mistakes I made six years ago...
Lady Dustin has her just reasons for holding a grudge against me.
Forgive me, Lord Duncan. As this is a conversation between us, there's something I've long wanted to ask you.
Please be honest about it." Ned.
"... If I can be, I will be, my lord. I swear it." Duncan.
"... Four years ago, in Winterfell... did you...
Did you intentionally provoke my wife, Lord Duncan?
I still find my wife's accusations unfounded, let me be clear, but I must agree with her on one thing. You are no ordinary boy, Lord Duncan..." Ned stared intently at every millimeter of the latter's face. He wanted to know the truth, whatever the cost.
"I don't know exactly what Lady Catelyn's accusations are, my Lord.... but yes, I have made premeditated provocations against your wife.
Provocations, which I was certain only she would notice.
I wanted Lady Catelyn to make a bold gesture towards me, Lord Stark..." Duncan answered truthfully.
Ned frowned for a single moment. Though he was angry at the answer, he appreciated the truth he had been given.
Had he not confessed it directly, Ned would have dragged this doubt to his grave.
"Why did you do it?" Ned asked in a serious but calm tone.
The boy closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, staring at the half-moon in the starry sky for a few seconds. Ned Stark allowed the boy time to find the right words to his specific question.
"Jon Snow."
Ned was struck on the solar plexus by those two words. For a moment, the keeper of the secret let out a hint of understanding, but he quickly recovered by feigning ignorance and incomprehension.
"What do you mean? What does my son have to do with any of this?" Ned.
"... Little magic tricks are not the only gift I possess, my Lord. The Ancients have shown me more than you, and anyone else here in the North, can conceive or even imagine." Ned held his breath after hearing that answer...
The poor man's heart began to pound. His blood pressure was sky-high. Time seemed to slow down...
A voice stored deep in his heart rushed to his head.
[Promise me, Ned. Promise me.]
The boy continued.
"When I asked the ancients [Who were the greatest threats to the North?] they showed me, several individuals, among them the face of your wife, Lady Catelyn Stark.
... When I delved further, the Old Ones showed me scenes and episodes of Lady Catelyn mistreating an infant. Then scenes of her treating a crying child with contempt...
Then a boy...
That boy was Jon Snow.
I do not believe your wife to be an evil person, my lord. However, I do know that she is guilty of arrogance, prejudice, discrimination, and I know what she would do if any entity in the world threatened her sons and daughters...
Knowing that she was already prejudiced against me and my House, I took the opportunity. The main purpose was to make her shift all her hatred and attention to me, instead of poor Jon.
Forgive me for saying this, my Lord, but your wife has a deep prejudice and contempt for 'bastards'..." He finished explaining the boy.
It all made sense to Ned now.
He couldn't deny those words... He wanted to find a way to defend his wife's honor, but he couldn't. Not after the trials and tribulations, his wife had demonstrated in front of half of Winterfell...
The only thing that heartened poor Ned, was that it seemed that the individual in front of him, still considered Jon his 'bastard son'...
Eddard had to be very careful from here on in. He had to try to steer the topic in another direction and neglect the ' Jon ' issue as much as possible.
''I... I cannot deny what you claim.
However, I deny your ways and choices. There was no need to create all that drama. You could have come..." Ned was interrupted.
"Come to talk to you about it, my lord? And what could I have said to you?
[Please, my Lord, don't ever leave Jon Snow alone in your wife's jaws? The woman hates and will forever hate that innocent. Beware of her.]
No, My Lord.
Words are wind. You should have seen it with your own eyes.
You should have seen how she would always treat that child.
A child who had only you, a Lord with the largest territory in the known world to manage and full of commitments, by his side.
How would you have done it, my Lord? How would you have protected Jon?" The boy asked roughly.
Ned did not know how to answer.
He could only show a look of regret and disappointment in himself.
Ned faltered at that moment. He made a mistake he had promised himself he would not make.
"Why do you care so much about Jon's fate?
You didn't even know him..." Ned regained control and admonished himself sternly within himself. One more misstep and a real tragedy could have occurred.
"It is. I saw it, Lord Stark.
I saw and heard your sister Lyanna in that tower beg you on her deathbed to protect him.
Protect that baby.
The baby with Stark and Targaryen blood in his veins...
Only four people in the world know the truth about Jon.
And I am one of them, Lord Stark. "Ned's legs shook... The man, a veteran of four bloody battles and dozens of deadly confrontations, was afraid.
He could hardly breathe. He was certain it was not Howland Reed who had revealed Jon's identity to him.
'No... He really did see him. Not even Howland knew the details!... ' Ned thought urgently.
''You're wrong... He... He's not... "Ned, with one last effort, managed to utter those last fragile words soaked in lies. Before he was interrupted again...
"He is Aegon.
Aegon of House Targaryen, rightful son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.
A rightful heir to the Iron Throne."
Please report us if you find any errors so we can fix it asap!
Chapter 67: ' Rightful Reason '
Hello everyone, small communication:
I have changed the title of the previous chapter.
I simply found a more suitable one... This chat with Lord Stark will be longer than expected...
Happy Reading!
------------------------------
POV: Duncan;
On a hill about 300 feet from the camp.
About ten minutes after a knight warned a powerful Northern Lord...
I was at a grassy promontory about 30 feet above the plain.
Around me, I had had my servants carry four lit braziers. The coal and whale oil made that cold early spring night much more bearable.
I was still covered in wool and fur. In my previous life, I was allergic to wool. Even though I knew this new body was not, I had always been wary and reluctant to wear it.
I still remembered the unbearable itching and sneezing that haunted me for days even if I accidentally touched a single tuft.
Now that I had reached Paladin level [3], that instinct was finally extinguished. A Paladin at that level would become immune to any disease. Common or magical.
Finally, the voices had become faint. Those damn Heart Trees were everywhere on the stretch of Tomb Land.
I'd learned to discern the distance between me and a tree when the Ancients tormented me with their Level Up chanting.
I knew that I could even climb up to Level [5], but I didn't want to go through the process yet. Many things were still unclear to me on the subject.
For example:
Would the other Paladins and Clerics level up directly as soon as I did?
Or would they simply be allowed to rise to that level?
Was I the one who decided the limit barrier?
Would the others also have to gain experience? Could they accumulate experience like me? Was I a special case?
What are the differences?
These and many other questions plagued me. Read latest chapters at nov(e)lbin.com Only
I was faithful to the philosophy of General Sun Tzu taught to me by Seraphinus:
[If you know the enemy and yourself, your victory is certain. If you know yourself but not the enemy, your chances of winning and losing are equal. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.]
I didn't want to grant any more powers to my possible enemy. Especially not now that I was likely to face the paladin of the Drowned God.
If Aeron Greyjoy, Balon's younger brother and cleric of the Drawned God, had access to 3rd level spells, he might have even been able to turn the tide of the sea battle.
Not so much for power but more for show...
I couldn't risk it.
I looked again at the case beside me. A gift for Lord Stark for his 26th birthday, which would be less than a month from now.
A gift very similar to the one given to Domeric.
Master Thobo Mott was truly an artist and a genius in the field. I had only explained the process to him in broad outline and not in detail the first time I told him about the Damascus Steel formula, and he had already managed to guess many of the missing parts himself.
Unfortunately, the Damascus formula was only effective for blades, not armor. The key flexibility that increased the efficiency of a blade was useless for defense-focused plates.
However, Thobo had reassured me that this new method alone had given him many points of inspiration to also improve the defense of any Northern warrior. It was only a matter of time.
Thobo had guaranteed that within two moons at the latest, he would already be able to bring out of the forge a new prototype of steel plates useful for all types of armor made of metal, including studded leather armor.
The revolution in the weapons industry was finally about to begin. It was no coincidence that I had invested so much time and gold to make it possible. Not a single mistake was allowed.
Even the steel of Damascus was reason enough to start a continental war. Perhaps it was even more dangerous than Jon Snow's true identity.
It was almost ironic that the First Men, a people formerly oppressed by the Andals mainly because of their better weapons, would soon have a monopoly on the best steel on the market. Not everything was finished yet.
There were still some key details to discuss with the man who was approaching me.
I had waited for this moment as long as possible. There was no more time. We were going to have to make the most of every single day of this spring and summer.
[True Winter was indeed coming.]
Now that the man was less than 30 feet from me, I noticed that his [8] hovering above him was slightly larger and darker since I last saw him in Torrhen's Square four years ago.
I had created a more accurate estimate between levels based on those small differences.
For the same level:
A number [X]
Small and light green= a recent level up from 1 to 33% experience.
Medium and deep green= 33 to 66% experience accumulated.
Large and dark green= 66% to 99%.
Ned Stark was in the latter bracket. I was certain that four years earlier he was in the middle tier [8].
Certainly, the man was still committed to his training despite his many commitments and duties.
"Lord Stark. Thank you for coming so far.
I thank you, my Lord, for complying with this peculiar and uncomfortable request of mine." I said, bowing like a true vassal of the North.
"Lord Duncan. No trouble or inconvenience to me whatsoever.
It is my pleasure to finally be able to discuss this with you in person. I have yet to thank you properly for your recent actions on Bear Island.
Know, young lord, that I sincerely believe your designation as 'Hero of the North' is well deserved." Lord Stark said with a sincere smile.
"... Thank you, my Lord... Emm forgive me for asking.
I mean no offense, Lord Stark... but...
Are you sure you're feeling well, my lord?
We could even postpone our chat until tomorrow or the next day if that's all right." He suggested sincerely, noting his cadaverous appearance.
Now that he was near the light of the braziers, I saw the pitiful look on Lord Stark's face. His face begged for mercy and pleaded for a few hours of rest.
"... You are not the first to tell me this, Lord Duncan...
Is my appearance that pitiful?" Ned asked in a slightly embarrassed tone.
"If I'm being honest, my Lord. I have certainly seen you on better days. You do look like a man who needs to sleep for at least two whole days and nights, Lord Stark." I said.
"You're probably not wrong, young Lord... I admit I've been a little overworked over the past week.
But I am confident I can still hold a pleasant chat with one of my loyal vassals. I hope you're not going to bring me the news that is too... ...pressing and burdensome news, Lord Duncan.
Ahah..." Ned tried to blunt some of the natural tension that was building between our gazes.
The protector of the North seemed ready to face a crucial negotiation for the survival of the North...
Well, at least he came to this appointment in the right spirit. I would have felt really bad hitting poor Ned's shoulders too casually. ' I thought as I tried to find a solution to Lord Stark's sorry state.
"... My Lord... I could help you with your condition.
Your brother, Brandon, and your father Lord Rickard may they always rest in peace, has done great harm to Lady Dustin's heart and honor...
William's affair not long afterward inevitably severed the relationship between House Dustin and House Stark...
But fear not, my Lord. I have long been engaged in trying to redress and blunt the blades that Lady Dustin was covertly sharpening to exact her, if I may say, ''partially justified'' revenge.
Lord Jorah Mormont is the key to settling that accumulated grudge once and for all.
I would ask you the courtesy of casting, within reason, a wary eye in the future when dealing with Lady Barbrey.
I cannot guarantee that she will always be kind and helpful to you, or your lady wife, but at least she will be to your heirs, my Lord." Explained Lord Duncan calmly.
Ned pondered those words for a moment.
The man could not help thinking back to sad and tragic moments in the past. He had seen Lord William strike a fatal blow to Lord Gerolt Hightower himself, unfortunately, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard took William with him to the grave.
"I understand... I will try to do everything I can.
I've long wanted to try and find a way to make up for the mistakes I made six years ago...
Lady Dustin has her just reasons for holding a grudge against me.
Forgive me, Lord Duncan. As this is a conversation between us, there's something I've long wanted to ask you.
Please be honest about it." Ned.
"... If I can be, I will be, my lord. I swear it." Duncan.
"... Four years ago, in Winterfell... did you...
Did you intentionally provoke my wife, Lord Duncan?
I still find my wife's accusations unfounded, let me be clear, but I must agree with her on one thing. You are no ordinary boy, Lord Duncan..." Ned stared intently at every millimeter of the latter's face. He wanted to know the truth, whatever the cost.
"I don't know exactly what Lady Catelyn's accusations are, my Lord.... but yes, I have made premeditated provocations against your wife.
Provocations, which I was certain only she would notice.
I wanted Lady Catelyn to make a bold gesture towards me, Lord Stark..." Duncan answered truthfully.
Ned frowned for a single moment. Though he was angry at the answer, he appreciated the truth he had been given.
Had he not confessed it directly, Ned would have dragged this doubt to his grave.
"Why did you do it?" Ned asked in a serious but calm tone.
The boy closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, staring at the half-moon in the starry sky for a few seconds. Ned Stark allowed the boy time to find the right words to his specific question.
"Jon Snow."
Ned was struck on the solar plexus by those two words. For a moment, the keeper of the secret let out a hint of understanding, but he quickly recovered by feigning ignorance and incomprehension.
"What do you mean? What does my son have to do with any of this?" Ned.
"... Little magic tricks are not the only gift I possess, my Lord. The Ancients have shown me more than you, and anyone else here in the North, can conceive or even imagine." Ned held his breath after hearing that answer...
The poor man's heart began to pound. His blood pressure was sky-high. Time seemed to slow down...
A voice stored deep in his heart rushed to his head.
[Promise me, Ned. Promise me.]
The boy continued.
"When I asked the ancients [Who were the greatest threats to the North?] they showed me, several individuals, among them the face of your wife, Lady Catelyn Stark.
... When I delved further, the Old Ones showed me scenes and episodes of Lady Catelyn mistreating an infant. Then scenes of her treating a crying child with contempt...
Then a boy...
That boy was Jon Snow.
I do not believe your wife to be an evil person, my lord. However, I do know that she is guilty of arrogance, prejudice, discrimination, and I know what she would do if any entity in the world threatened her sons and daughters...
Knowing that she was already prejudiced against me and my House, I took the opportunity. The main purpose was to make her shift all her hatred and attention to me, instead of poor Jon.
Forgive me for saying this, my Lord, but your wife has a deep prejudice and contempt for 'bastards'..." He finished explaining the boy.
It all made sense to Ned now.
He couldn't deny those words... He wanted to find a way to defend his wife's honor, but he couldn't. Not after the trials and tribulations, his wife had demonstrated in front of half of Winterfell...
The only thing that heartened poor Ned, was that it seemed that the individual in front of him, still considered Jon his 'bastard son'...
Eddard had to be very careful from here on in. He had to try to steer the topic in another direction and neglect the ' Jon ' issue as much as possible.
''I... I cannot deny what you claim.
However, I deny your ways and choices. There was no need to create all that drama. You could have come..." Ned was interrupted.
"Come to talk to you about it, my lord? And what could I have said to you?
[Please, my Lord, don't ever leave Jon Snow alone in your wife's jaws? The woman hates and will forever hate that innocent. Beware of her.]
No, My Lord.
Words are wind. You should have seen it with your own eyes.
You should have seen how she would always treat that child.
A child who had only you, a Lord with the largest territory in the known world to manage and full of commitments, by his side.
How would you have done it, my Lord? How would you have protected Jon?" The boy asked roughly.
Ned did not know how to answer.
He could only show a look of regret and disappointment in himself.
Ned faltered at that moment. He made a mistake he had promised himself he would not make.
"Why do you care so much about Jon's fate?
You didn't even know him..." Ned regained control and admonished himself sternly within himself. One more misstep and a real tragedy could have occurred.
"It is. I saw it, Lord Stark.
I saw and heard your sister Lyanna in that tower beg you on her deathbed to protect him.
Protect that baby.
The baby with Stark and Targaryen blood in his veins...
Only four people in the world know the truth about Jon.
And I am one of them, Lord Stark. "Ned's legs shook... The man, a veteran of four bloody battles and dozens of deadly confrontations, was afraid.
He could hardly breathe. He was certain it was not Howland Reed who had revealed Jon's identity to him.
'No... He really did see him. Not even Howland knew the details!... ' Ned thought urgently.
''You're wrong... He... He's not... "Ned, with one last effort, managed to utter those last fragile words soaked in lies. Before he was interrupted again...
"He is Aegon.
Aegon of House Targaryen, rightful son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.
A rightful heir to the Iron Throne."
Chapter 67: ' Rightful Reason 'Hello everyone, small communication: I have changed the title of the previous chapter. I simply found a more suitable one... This chat with Lord Stark will be longer than expected... Happy Reading! ------------------------------ POV: Duncan; On a hill about 300 feet from the camp. About ten minutes after a knight warned a powerful Northern Lord... I was at a grassy promontory about 30 feet above the plain. Around me, I had had my servants carry four lit braziers. The coal and whale oil made that cold early spring night much more bearable. I was still covered in wool and fur. In my previous life, I was allergic to wool. Even though I knew this new body was not, I had always been wary and reluctant to wear it. I still remembered the unbearable itching and sneezing that haunted me for days even if I accidentally touched a single tuft. Now that I had reached Paladin level 3, that instinct was finally extinguished. A Paladin at that level would become immune to any disease. Common or magical. Finally, the voices had become faint. Those damn Heart Trees were everywhere on the stretch of Tomb Land. I'd learned to discern the distance between me and a tree when the Ancients tormented me with their Level Up chanting. I knew that I could even climb up to Level 5, but I didn't want to go through the process yet. Many things were still unclear to me on the subject. For example: Would the other Paladins and Clerics level up directly as soon as I did? Or would they simply be allowed to rise to that level? Was I the one who decided the limit barrier? Would the others also have to gain experience? Could they accumulate experience like me? Was I a special case? What are the differences? These and many other questions plagued me. Read latest chapters at novelbin.com OnlyI was faithful to the philosophy of General Sun Tzu taught to me by Seraphinus: If you know the enemy and yourself, your victory is certain. If you know yourself but not the enemy, your chances of winning and losing are equal. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle. I didn't want to grant any more powers to my possible enemy. Especially not now that I was likely to face the paladin of the Drowned God. If Aeron Greyjoy, Balon's younger brother and cleric of the Drawned God, had access to 3rd level spells, he might have even been able to turn the tide of the sea battle. Not so much for power but more for show... I couldn't risk it. I looked again at the case beside me. A gift for Lord Stark for his 26th birthday, which would be less than a month from now. A gift very similar to the one given to Domeric. Master Thobo Mott was truly an artist and a genius in the field. I had only explained the process to him in broad outline and not in detail the first time I told him about the Damascus Steel formula, and he had already managed to guess many of the missing parts himself. Unfortunately, the Damascus formula was only effective for blades, not armor. The key flexibility that increased the efficiency of a blade was useless for defense-focused plates. However, Thobo had reassured me that this new method alone had given him many points of inspiration to also improve the defense of any Northern warrior. It was only a matter of time. Thobo had guaranteed that within two moons at the latest, he would already be able to bring out of the forge a new prototype of steel plates useful for all types of armor made of metal, including studded leather armor. The revolution in the weapons industry was finally about to begin. It was no coincidence that I had invested so much time and gold to make it possible. Not a single mistake was allowed. Even the steel of Damascus was reason enough to start a continental war. Perhaps it was even more dangerous than Jon Snow's true identity. It was almost ironic that the First Men, a people formerly oppressed by the Andals mainly because of their better weapons, would soon have a monopoly on the best steel on the market. Not everything was finished yet. There were still some key details to discuss with the man who was approaching me. I had waited for this moment as long as possible. There was no more time. We were going to have to make the most of every single day of this spring and summer. True Winter was indeed coming. Now that the man was less than 30 feet from me, I noticed that his 8 hovering above him was slightly larger and darker since I last saw him in Torrhen's Square four years ago. I had created a more accurate estimate between levels based on those small differences. For the same level: A number X Small and light green= a recent level up from 1 to 33% experience. Medium and deep green= 33 to 66% experience accumulated. Large and dark green= 66% to 99%. Ned Stark was in the latter bracket. I was certain that four years earlier he was in the middle tier 8. Certainly, the man was still committed to his training despite his many commitments and duties. "Lord Stark. Thank you for coming so far. I thank you, my Lord, for complying with this peculiar and uncomfortable request of mine." I said, bowing like a true vassal of the North. "Lord Duncan. No trouble or inconvenience to me whatsoever. It is my pleasure to finally be able to discuss this with you in person. I have yet to thank you properly for your recent actions on Bear Island. Know, young lord, that I sincerely believe your designation as 'Hero of the North' is well deserved." Lord Stark said with a sincere smile. "... Thank you, my Lord... Emm forgive me for asking. I mean no offense, Lord Stark... but... Are you sure you're feeling well, my lord? We could even postpone our chat until tomorrow or the next day if that's all right." He suggested sincerely, noting his cadaverous appearance. Now that he was near the light of the braziers, I saw the pitiful look on Lord Stark's face. His face begged for mercy and pleaded for a few hours of rest. "... You are not the first to tell me this, Lord Duncan... Is my appearance that pitiful?" Ned asked in a slightly embarrassed tone. "If I'm being honest, my Lord. I have certainly seen you on better days. You do look like a man who needs to sleep for at least two whole days and nights, Lord Stark." I said. "You're probably not wrong, young Lord... I admit I've been a little overworked over the past week. But I am confident I can still hold a pleasant chat with one of my loyal vassals. I hope you're not going to bring me the news that is too... ...pressing and burdensome news, Lord Duncan. Ahah..." Ned tried to blunt some of the natural tension that was building between our gazes. The protector of the North seemed ready to face a crucial negotiation for the survival of the North... Well, at least he came to this appointment in the right spirit. I would have felt really bad hitting poor Ned's shoulders too casually. ' I thought as I tried to find a solution to Lord Stark's sorry state. "... My Lord... I could help you with your condition. Your brother, Brandon, and your father Lord Rickard may they always rest in peace, has done great harm to Lady Dustin's heart and honor... William's affair not long afterward inevitably severed the relationship between House Dustin and House Stark... But fear not, my Lord. I have long been engaged in trying to redress and blunt the blades that Lady Dustin was covertly sharpening to exact her, if I may say, ''partially justified'' revenge. Lord Jorah Mormont is the key to settling that accumulated grudge once and for all. I would ask you the courtesy of casting, within reason, a wary eye in the future when dealing with Lady Barbrey. I cannot guarantee that she will always be kind and helpful to you, or your lady wife, but at least she will be to your heirs, my Lord." Explained Lord Duncan calmly. Ned pondered those words for a moment. The man could not help thinking back to sad and tragic moments in the past. He had seen Lord William strike a fatal blow to Lord Gerolt Hightower himself, unfortunately, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard took William with him to the grave. "I understand... I will try to do everything I can. I've long wanted to try and find a way to make up for the mistakes I made six years ago... Lady Dustin has her just reasons for holding a grudge against me. Forgive me, Lord Duncan. As this is a conversation between us, there's something I've long wanted to ask you. Please be honest about it." Ned. "... If I can be, I will be, my lord. I swear it." Duncan. "... Four years ago, in Winterfell... did you... Did you intentionally provoke my wife, Lord Duncan? I still find my wife's accusations unfounded, let me be clear, but I must agree with her on one thing. You are no ordinary boy, Lord Duncan..." Ned stared intently at every millimeter of the latter's face. He wanted to know the truth, whatever the cost. "I don't know exactly what Lady Catelyn's accusations are, my Lord.... but yes, I have made premeditated provocations against your wife. Provocations, which I was certain only she would notice. I wanted Lady Catelyn to make a bold gesture towards me, Lord Stark..." Duncan answered truthfully. Ned frowned for a single moment. Though he was angry at the answer, he appreciated the truth he had been given. Had he not confessed it directly, Ned would have dragged this doubt to his grave. "Why did you do it?" Ned asked in a serious but calm tone. The boy closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, staring at the half-moon in the starry sky for a few seconds. Ned Stark allowed the boy time to find the right words to his specific question. "Jon Snow." Ned was struck on the solar plexus by those two words. For a moment, the keeper of the secret let out a hint of understanding, but he quickly recovered by feigning ignorance and incomprehension. "What do you mean? What does my son have to do with any of this?" Ned. "... Little magic tricks are not the only gift I possess, my Lord. The Ancients have shown me more than you, and anyone else here in the North, can conceive or even imagine." Ned held his breath after hearing that answer... The poor man's heart began to pound. His blood pressure was sky-high. Time seemed to slow down... A voice stored deep in his heart rushed to his head. Promise me, Ned. Promise me. The boy continued. "When I asked the ancients Who were the greatest threats to the North? they showed me, several individuals, among them the face of your wife, Lady Catelyn Stark. ... When I delved further, the Old Ones showed me scenes and episodes of Lady Catelyn mistreating an infant. Then scenes of her treating a crying child with contempt... Then a boy... That boy was Jon Snow. I do not believe your wife to be an evil person, my lord. However, I do know that she is guilty of arrogance, prejudice, discrimination, and I know what she would do if any entity in the world threatened her sons and daughters... Knowing that she was already prejudiced against me and my House, I took the opportunity. The main purpose was to make her shift all her hatred and attention to me, instead of poor Jon. Forgive me for saying this, my Lord, but your wife has a deep prejudice and contempt for 'bastards'..." He finished explaining the boy. It all made sense to Ned now. He couldn't deny those words... He wanted to find a way to defend his wife's honor, but he couldn't. Not after the trials and tribulations, his wife had demonstrated in front of half of Winterfell... The only thing that heartened poor Ned, was that it seemed that the individual in front of him, still considered Jon his 'bastard son'... Eddard had to be very careful from here on in. He had to try to steer the topic in another direction and neglect the ' Jon ' issue as much as possible. ''I... I cannot deny what you claim. However, I deny your ways and choices. There was no need to create all that drama. You could have come..." Ned was interrupted. "Come to talk to you about it, my lord? And what could I have said to you? Please, my Lord, don't ever leave Jon Snow alone in your wife's jaws? The woman hates and will forever hate that innocent. Beware of her. No, My Lord. Words are wind. You should have seen it with your own eyes. You should have seen how she would always treat that child. A child who had only you, a Lord with the largest territory in the known world to manage and full of commitments, by his side. How would you have done it, my Lord? How would you have protected Jon?" The boy asked roughly. Ned did not know how to answer. He could only show a look of regret and disappointment in himself. Ned faltered at that moment. He made a mistake he had promised himself he would not make. "Why do you care so much about Jon's fate? You didn't even know him..." Ned regained control and admonished himself sternly within himself. One more misstep and a real tragedy could have occurred. "It is. I saw it, Lord Stark. I saw and heard your sister Lyanna in that tower beg you on her deathbed to protect him. Protect that baby. The baby with Stark and Targaryen blood in his veins... Only four people in the world know the truth about Jon. And I am one of them, Lord Stark. "Ned's legs shook... The man, a veteran of four bloody battles and dozens of deadly confrontations, was afraid. He could hardly breathe. He was certain it was not Howland Reed who had revealed Jon's identity to him. 'No... He really did see him. Not even Howland knew the details!... ' Ned thought urgently. ''You're wrong... He... He's not... "Ned, with one last effort, managed to utter those last fragile words soaked in lies. Before he was interrupted again... "He is Aegon. Aegon of House Targaryen, rightful son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. A rightful heir to the Iron Throne."
