Part MMCCLVII: Of Winter's Fastness
Of Winter's Fastness
First Day of the Fifth Month 293 AC
"An interesting idea," you allow after some thought. "However there are other uses one could put it to which do not risk stirring the Others from their slumber before time. I had thought to sell it to the spirits of air and stone in their war against the efreeti who hold mastery of fire. It seems a fitting weapon for such a task, and besides being paid I shall sleep easier knowing that the heart was taken beyond the boundaries of this world."
"A fair thought," Bloodraven allows. Having grown more used to guessing the thoughts and emotions behind his lined ancient countenance, you read upon them fleeting surprise that you do not wish to take the most audacious thought.
"I wished to ask you of something I learned in Lannisport..."
"Forgive an old schemer's curiosity, Your Grace, but what did Tywin Lannister finally do that drove you to respond by rotting half his docks and a third of the ships at anchor, no less?" Bloodraven interrupts. "Something to do with Essos and trade I heard, but my ears are yet few east of the Narrow Sea."
You gladly indulge the interest, laying out the Lannister plan, such that you could guess it: attacking Tyroshi trade interests then framing you for the deed to cause unrest in the city, perhaps opening it to further infiltration or some other attack.
"Ironic, though not unfitting, that you would react more poorly to a threat to your coffers than an armed invasion," Brynden Rivers says, giving another of his short, painful laughs.
"Why should I have reacted poorly to an attack that handed me ships and the crew to man them ready for the taking, with but a handful of spells and an offer of clemency?" you counter just as lightly, though to be honest you fear a second fleet not so much of the threat it poses as because another triumph of that caliber would likely spawn spontaneous uprisings in your favor, either forcing your hand to move west too soon or letting men flying your banners die.
Shaking off the grim thought you return to the matter at hand, the winter-souled hag who had been awoken from her tomb by the Westerling girl. You would have every cause to hunt such places, not only for the treasures they might hold, but for the threat any denizens may pose, now or when Winter is finally upon the world.
"Such places would be warded against my sight most of all," the ancient sorcerer replies. "However, I can make a fair guess as to where they might be found. Seek out the highest mountains and the deepest caverns, those corners of the world scorned by man and beast alike... Dalla of the Sons of the Mist knows of some from the tales the clansmen speak when the fire burns low on cold winter nights. Perhaps there are other hermits, outcasts, hedge witches who know more."
"Perhaps they even come to know too much," you sigh. "The thought of foolish treasure hunters or madman entering such fastnesses of the Great Other leaves a bitter taste in my mouth."
"I have thrice now found myself set against such pawns, though each time I was able to set a likely hero into their path seeking fame, glory, or riches," Bloodraven agrees.
"You do not think much of heroes," you note, tone carefully neutral.
"The true heroes are not the ones who slay the monster, but the ones who build a better world upon its corpse." His shoulders twitch in what might have been an attempt at a shrug, but beneath his seeming nonchalance you spy for a fleeting instant the shadow of old pain. Daemon Blackfyre was a hero to many, a knight at three-and-ten, comely of face and lordly of bearing, even dying a hero's death where his slayer had to reign as Hand and hear for many years the slings and curses of highborn and low.
"What is the realm of the Others?" you quickly change the subject. "What rules does it follow and what precisely dwells within?"
"Were you to travel by foot north from this cave you would find forests thinning to cold brushland and hardy grasses, to lichen-covered stone, and finally to bare rock and crushing ice. Were you then to press on against every instinct of mind and soul you would find yourself in a realm that is both part of the world and yet heavy with the hateful dreams of the thing the priests of R'hllor call the Great Others. Whether it is one thing or many, or even if such distinctions matter to it I cannot say, but there have been some bold enough to make the journey in the past and fortunate enough to return. Thus I can share with you some advice on how you may survive there."
"I'm not planning a journey anytime soon," you assure him.
Bloodraven nods in acknowledgement but continues in the same even half-whisper he uses to spare his ravaged voice: "Light no fires upon the ice, but scrape first to stone beneath. Drink no water from the icefields that has not been brought to a rolling boil thrice. Do not run over those cursed fields without a weirwood staff to guide your path by striking holes through the ice to see if there is solid ground, raging water, or lightless caverns beneath "
"No lesser staff?" you question. "Was that the reason for this..." you motion towards the token of your pledge to the Old Gods.
"One of the reasons," he replies. "Not the first in my mind, but certainly not the last."
"What might one find in the Farthest North in the dreams of the Other?" you ask rather than questioning what his other motives may be.
"There are said to be cities half buried in the ice where the dead walk, going about the hollow half-understood motions of life, cliffs upon which the wind wails like the screams of the dying, and the damned vaults filled the treasures of the Dawn Age guarded by great wyrms of ice. How far the ice goes or what lies beyond it none know, for no living traveler has reached the end of it."
"If it is a dream then perhaps it has no end," you offer.
"Half a dream, and the world we stand on is a bounded sphere as the sages of old discovered long ago," Bloodraven replies gravely. "For all the dreadful power of the Enemy it would not do to forget that this is now the world of men and what mortal wisdom tells us of it."
What do you do next?
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[] Speak to Leaf about Ifequevron
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OOC: Sorry this took so long. Exposition is tricky to present.
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