"First we overlook evil; then we permit evil. Then we legalize evil. Then we promote evil. Then we celebrate evil. Then we persecute those who still call it evil."
- Excerpt from "A Bard's eyes: Fall of The High Pretenders"
Arya
Arya followed behind her mother as she showed Winterfell to the foreigners. Jon's foreigners came in all different sizes and colors, but the most exotic was the tall, slender, golden man. He was handsome to look at, had silver hair, and "walked better" than everyone Arya ever met. He was also very polite, even to Arya herself. By the time Arya got bored of observing the foreigners, her mother was on the way to take the foreigners to see the Great Hall.
"I beg your pardon, my lady.." The golden man began; his deep and melodic voice reminded Arya of the singers who occasionally travel to Winterfell. "But I find myself curious indeed. Is this perhaps your religion's temple?" The golden man asked. Arya looked at her mother, who had stopped walking to hear the golden man. Mother smiled at the man's question and nodded her head.
"Yes, my lord." Her mother began but the man shook his head
"I am not a lord, my lady." The golden man said not unkindly. "I am only a mage, albeit a master in alteration and thaumaturgy magic. In my land, one would address me as Master Volanaro." The man, Volanaro, said.
"Oh, I apologize then; your… mannerisms are what I would expect from a southern lord, not unlike my own father." Mother spoke, and Arya subconsciously nodded in agreement.
"Ah, yes, Archmage Snow has told me that education is not provided to all in Westeros. Volanaro said, his tone was similar to Maester Luwin's when the old man was thinking too deeply. "How… wasteful. What is your religion again, my lady?" Volanaro asked; he seemed genuinely curious about the sept and the Seven.
"We follow the Seven who are one, the gods of Andalos," Septa Mordane replied before Mother could.
"Indeed, the New Gods, as they are called." Mother agreed. "The Father, The Mother, The Maiden, The Warrior, The Smith, The Crone, and The Stranger." Mother elaborated, and Volanaro nodded.
" How fascinating… The Nine Divines's temples across Tamriel provide education to all, as do the Mephalans in Morrowind. Such has been the law since the rise of the Alessian empire." Volanaro replied; Arya didn't hear any chastisement in the man's words; it was as if he was simply instructing them.
"Why?" Arya asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
"That is a complex question, but in simpler terms, one could blame magic and Julianus, God of Wisdom. Lord Julianos frowns upon nations with uneducated peasants, and no ruler wishes to be at odds with Lord Julianos; his displeasure is always manifested in insidious manners." Volanaro said, his eyes met Arya's, and they shone with kindness. "It took ages for the races of men to understand that… Thankfully my race never suffered his displeasure; it would've been particularly effective against us."
"Races of men? Are you not a man yourself? Albeit a golden one?" Arya asked once more; this time her mother did not remain silent.
"Arya!" Mother said, her voice almost cutting Arya with how sharp it was, "I apologize for her, Master Volanaro; she is a difficult child on her best days." Mother finished as she looked at Volanaro.
"Worry not, Lady Stark. I anticipate that multiple inquiries of that nature will be made by various individuals. Little Arya was even respectful about it. I remember one child in the Riverland's province asked if I was a half-breed of Child of the Forest and a Giant." Volanaro replied; he then looked at Arya and smiled, "No, young child, I am not a man." Volanaro said, "I am a Mer, also known as an elf. I shall not dive into the origins of my people, as such things are complex by nature. But we are fundamentally different from the races of men. We live far longer and breed more sparsely than your kind does." The mer said, his voice was similar to Maester Luwin's when he lectured her.
" By the Seven…" Arya heard Mordane say. She looked at Volanaro and tried to guess the mer's age. She couldn't; his face was ageless, he sounded old, but from certain angles he looked as young as Robb, and from others he looked as elderly as Maester Luwin.
"How old are you, Master Volanaro?" Arya asked, and Mother was too curious to chastise her, it seems, for she did not get reprimanded.
"Well, I've extended my life with magic long ago; such things are rather common among mages of my race. Biologically, I am around 320 years old, but chronologically I've been alive for more than 600 years…" Volanaro spoke, and Arya's eyes widened so much that she nearly hurt herself.
" Wow, you are really old!" Arya said, this time her mother did not let it pass; she looked at Arya with a withering glare, and no words were needed for Arya to realize she was in trouble.
" Indeed I am, little lady." The old mer said, his face morphing to a smile " But there are mages far older than me. Some as old as four thousand years… They have probably forgotten more about magic than many shall ever learn." Volanaro continued. "Your brother most likely knows a few of them; he knows Master Neloth and Loremaster Celarus for sure, and maybe Archmage Glinda Valerius. Lucky child, your brother… Many would kill to have the chance to even speak with someone like Master Neloth."
" Is Jon a mage? Have you taught him magic? Can you teach me magic?" Arya mouthed off; she looked at Master Volanaro and tried her best to use her puppy eyes, which had in the past bent her father's will.
" Arya Stark! You shall not be learning magic, young lady!" Septa Mordane said, which surprised Arya as she imagined her mother would be the one naysaying her. Arya looked at her mother, who was looking at Volanaro with a quizzical expression.
" Is he? Is Snow a mage?" Mother asked; her voice was calm in an eerie way, which Arya failed to give a name to.
" Yes, my lady." Volanaro replied, "Jon Snow is an archmage and has been so for almost a year. One among fifty or so. It was the reason he was sent with the expedition that brought us to Westeros, so he could protect us from another one like him or several mages of my level." The old mer then looked at Arya and shook his head in denial. "As for the one who taught your brother, he was the same sent him and us here, The Emperor himself; and I am sorry, little one, but until your brother declares he shall not teach you himself, then no one would dare take you for an apprentice." After Volanaro finished, Arya tried not to squeal with joy, confident that her brother would teach her and help her become a powerful magician.
" Why? Why would an emperor teach a bastard boy magic?" Arya heard her mother ask; she looked at the tall mer as well, her curiosity stoked once more.
" Not much is known of how His Majesty met the Archmage Snow. It is known Archmage Snow lived on the streets of the Imperial City for a while before he was taken to one of the capital's orphanages." Volanaro began; his right had was on his chin as he contemplated the question, " Two days after his arrival in the orphanage, Grandmaster Blaise, the leader of the Blades showed up and took him to meet his Majesty… On the same day the news flew to all the empire, His Majesty had accepted his first apprentice… Apprentices are to a mage what a squire is to a knight." He finished, and Mother nodded stiffly; Arya knew then that something was wrong. Septa Mordane shared a look with Mother, and both seemed to get into a similar conclusion, something that was never positive in Arya's recollection.
" Your emperor took a bastard to squire, and no one took offense? Surely many trueborn noble children had more right to squire under an emperor?" Septa Mordane asked, and the mer laughed, so loud and contagious that Arya herself chuckled.
"Oh, I apologize… I do not wish to cause offense, but I could not help myself. I imagine your country's less centralized military power has given your nobles more power than our nobles, my dear priestess, The Emperor does as he wants; he speaks with whoever he wants; he goes wherever he wants. The nobles, from Skyrim to The Summerset Isles, ESPECIALLY the Summerset Isles, only have their titles because His Majesty wills it so." Volanaro said, his tone gleeful and breathless as if he had heard the greatest of jokes. Arya failed to see the difference between their emperor and The King. A king also does as he wants, talks to whoever he wants, and goes wherever he wants.
Septa Mordane seemed to want to reply, but she was unable to as they had arrived at the Guest House. The Guest House had been prepared to receive the Tamrielians; the walls and floors were cleaned twice more vigorously than usual, and the big hall smelled like wildberries and lavender. The torches were not lit yet, but several of them were spread around. Arya realized she would have a wonderful time here as she tried to convince her brother to teach her.
Jon-
Jon took another deep breath as Maester Luwin wrote down his answers in his little journal; the old Maester and Father had been drilling Jon for the last three hours about anything they could about Tamriel, from the Imperial Court to trade, from dragons to Argonians, from Skyrim vegetables to Morrowind's customs, and anything in between. The Archmage looked at the orange sky, and then he looked at his father; the Lord of Winterfell seemed satisfied with the number of questions he had asked Jon, and he signaled so with his hands when Maester Luwin made to ask one more question.
" I feel Jon has indulged us more than enough; the information he gave us will be essential for Robert and Jon Arryn in King's Landing." Father said, his tone broke no argument, even when Maester Luwin looked pained to have been denied more knowledge, "Now Jon, tell us what you will need to fulfill your duties here, and what exactly are said duties?" The Warden of the North inquired, his demeanor no less relaxed than before, as if he knew in his heart that Jon would not demand terrible things.
" Well, my work is that of a diplomat, a trade dealer, and a deterrent at the same time." Jon began. Tiberius's voice resonated in his mind, instructing him on the differences and similarities between conventional and magical diplomacy. " With your permission, we will build an embassy in Winterfell, and there I shall stay and work. I shall research goods that would interest Tamriel and search for opportunities to establish trade deals between the Northern Houses and the Empire and the other way around as well. I shall also send the alchemists around the North in search of alchemical ingredients, and according to the Law of Transparency, all findings shall be shared with the Warden of the North, and the Elder Council." Jon finished his explanation. He tried to convey as much sincerity as he could. Father nodded his head in agreement; he seemed to find the arrangement satisfactory.
" I see no problem with you having your… embassy in Winterfell." Father began, and Jon nodded, " I find myself interested in the vegetables that thrive in this Skyrim place and the highland auroch… they would present an unimaginable boom to the North." Father said, and Jon nodded once again.
" Glass as well, Father; glass is cheap in that land." Robb inferred; he seemed genuinely pleased with the developments, as he should; never in the North's history had an opportunity like that existed; Robb could be the one to finally break the North's food dependency on the South. " We could build a glass garden in every holdfast in the North in less than ten years." Robb proposed, and Father shook his head in denial.
" Not this summer; it has been a long one and it must be almost at its end… We shall wait for the next one." Father spoke; Jon caught a glimpse of Maester Luwin nodding in agreement. "For this one, we shall buy livestock and vegetables. Hopefully Tamriel will not put a knife in our ribs like Reach does." Father said as he looked at Jon, who merely shrugged powerlessly.
" Well… Tiberius rarely regulates prices for trade, and while the Elder Council has the power to, it has never done so before." Jon pondered outloud, his mind running through his old lessons " We'll seat with The East Empire Trading Company and talk business; if it does not work, then we try the smaller ones… If it doesn't work, then you send your ships to Cyrodiil and have them buy directly from the farms there. I do warn you: the last option will be a nightmare in protocol. I'll have my retainer research prices," Jon replied.
" The Empire is surprisingly… permissive for an absolute state; if what you say is true, then the small folk set their prices, and most of them have an unparalleled level of freedom." Maester Luwin concluded, and Jon nodded. Jon then looked at his Father
" Father, I have a request." Father nodded and gestured for Jon to proceed. " May I have the broken tower? I will rebuild it and have it serve as the embassy and personal arcaeneum." Father pondered Jon's question for a moment before he nodded in acquiescence.
" I'll allow it… How long will it take for your builder to finish it?" Father asked, and Jon shook his head.
" No, Father, I shall do it myself." Jon replied with a knowing smile on his face. " Well, my master taught me a nifty spell, lost magic to most of Tamriel; Shalidor did not name it, and history calls it 'The Whispered Spell of Shalidor.' It is said he created a whole city with it… such is inaccurate, of course; he only created the College and The Old Jarl Stronghold… which is odd since while Shalidor was alive, Winterhold had no Jarl." Jon explained. Father seemed unfazed by Jon's words. The Warden of the North nodded his head at Maester Luwin and made for Robb to get up
" Well, we have taken a lot of time here." The Lord of Winterfell said, his deep voice making his words louder in Jon's mind " We'll have a feast in a few hours, and I would let you settle yourself before you partake in reverie; you have my permission to use your spell in the broken tower." Father said, and Jon nodded; he imagined his father had a lot on his mind; Robert Baratheon's orders must have had some urgency to them; as is prudent, carefulness and caution are the way to go if you intend to tread on Tiberius's Tamriel without tickling the sleeping dragon.
" You may accompany me if you wish, Maester. I see you are eager to witness more magic." Jon offered with a smile on his face, " I was much the same… Magic is wondrous; I've seen magic so beautiful it hurt my eyes, I've seen foul magics as well… on those I shall not talk or give instruction." Jon concluded with a steely-like tone.
Jon, Maester Luwin, and Robb walked out of the Godswood together; the two legionnaires in the entrance rejoined their group silently and followed along as Jon made his way towards the broken tower. As he walked, Jon once again marveled at Winterfell; even in a magical land such as Tamriel, a castle like Winterfell would be special. The ancient seat of House Stark was history-made stone, feelings-made songs, and traditions-made culture; there was also some form of magic in the stones and walls, some archaic kind of ward that protected against something Jon couldn't quite figure out, and that was powered by the Heart-Tree.
The Heart Tree was another mystery that intrigued Jon; the magic it had was somewhat similar to the Hist trees of Argonia; it only lacked sentience, but it was very much a network of some kind. It was observant and absent; it was a foci and magic nexus at the same time… to tonal magic rather than magicka. It worked like an amateurish and yet stable mix between a Dovah's Word Wall and one of Kagrenac's legendary tools. Jon realized he had finally found a worthy topic for him to research; if he was able to form and present a decent theory, he would have something to help him convince Tiberius to teach him true mysticism magic.
"What is on your mind, young Jon?" Maester Luwin said, breaking Jon's internal musings "You have that face Robb and Lord Stark share when deep in thought," Luwin elaborated, making Jon smile a little.
"I have a hypothesis for why magic is so... dormant in Westeros." Jon replied absentmindedly, not missing the gleam in Luwin's eyes, however. The Maester wanted to learn magic; he wanted it more than he probably ever wanted anything, but he was a man of duty, a man of oaths.
" What is that?" Robb asked his eyes also showing his curiosity
" A hypothesis is the core of a theory…" Maester Luwin replied, and Jon nodded. " Would you like to elaborate?" The old Maester asked; his voice did nothing to hide his enthusiasm.
"No, not at the moment." Jon replied, and much to Luwin's disappointment, he did not elaborate on his refusal's reasoning. " Here we are," Jon said as they approached the broken tower.
It was as decayed as Jon remembered; its mortar had turned to ash, and most stones were loose, but even in its sorry, ruined state, it was still the tallest tower in Winterfell. Jon opened a small rift in space to his spatial pocket and removed a large staff with a purple prism on its end.
" A rod?" Maester Luwin asked and Jon shook his head in denial
" It's a staff, a foci staff… It's used to facilitate the more exoteric and complex kinds of magic," Jon explained. "Magics such as curses, auramancy, and druidcraft, for example," Jon clarified. he then brought a hand to his mouth and whispered the spell, and with his other hand, he raised the staff and pointed at the broken tower. At first, nothing happened, then the old ashen mortar was substituted by blue ice, the broken holes and destroyed parts were also filled with blue ice in the form of square bricks, and in the part where the tower ended, new bricks of blue ice continued the construction for a few more feet, then it ended in an open summit like the College of Winterhold's; for a few seconds, nothing happened again, then the blue ice transmuted into grey stone and mortar, making the tower look like a perfect blend of a Winterfell tower and a College of Winterhold one.
"Old Gods…" Jon heard Robb murmur
" That… that was impressive." Maester Luwin began, his voice dripping awe, and Jon chuckled at him. " The new walls look remarkably similar to the walls of Dragonstone, which helps reaffirm the idea the Valyrians used sorcery to build their strongholds as well… the only difference is colour…" Maester Luwin concluded, and Jon shrugged; his knowledge of Valyrian sorcery was very much null.
" Let us go inside; I have to move all the rubble… and start ordering new furniture." Jon said, and Luwin nodded. " Cladius, would you please send for the builders and for the mages… I want all the mages to have their quarters here in this tower so as to avoid any trouble. The rest of the legionnaires may stay in the Guards Hall as instructed by my father." Jon said as he walked inside the tower, Maester Luwin and Robb following closely behind.