Chapter 90: The Invitation Beyond the Wall
Snow drifted slowly across White Harbor while freezing winds swept through the harbor streets.
Winter had fully arrived now.
The sea groaned beneath sheets of ice near the outer docks while workers moved bundled in thick furs carrying grain and supplies between warehouses overflowing with Winter's Heaven trade.
And every single day—
The city grew richer.
Lord Wyman Manderly stood beside the high windows of New Castle watching the harbor below quietly.
For the first time in many winters…
The North was not afraid.
That realization still unsettled him.
Granaries remained full.
Trade expanded constantly.
Construction accelerated across White Harbor because of cement from Winter's Heaven.
Even during snowfall, workers still built roads and reinforced docks.
That alone felt unnatural.
And yet—
The thing Wyman desired most was not grain.
Not wealth.
Not trade.
It was understanding.
He wanted to see Winter's Heaven.
Not rumors.
Not stories.
Not merchant exaggerations.
The real kingdom.
But he was Lord of White Harbor.
One of the most important lords in the North.
Leaving for months across unknown oceans was impossible.
White Harbor depended upon him too heavily now.
And so—
He decided upon another path.
Inside his solar later that evening, Wyman sat alone beside the fire writing carefully across thick parchment.
No maester assisted him.
No scribe touched the words.
This message would be personal.
Respectful.
Sincere.
Wyman paused several times while writing.
Because he understood something important.
Jon Snow was not merely another northern lord.
Every report from Winter's Heaven described the same thing.
Order.
Discipline.
Progress.
And men like that respected honesty more than flattery.
Finally, Wyman finished the letter.
He read it slowly one final time.
To King Jon of Winter's Heaven,
The North prospers through your friendship, and White Harbor shall not forget this.
I confess openly that I wish greatly to see your kingdom with my own eyes.
Yet I am Lord of White Harbor, and my duties prevent such a long absence from my lands.
Thus, I humbly ask your permission to send trusted men in my stead.
Builders.
Merchants.
Men capable of observing and recording what they witness faithfully.
If permitted, they shall draw your roads, harbors, rail systems, and cities so I may better understand the future now rising beyond the Wall.
They shall come not as spies—
But as honored guests beneath your protection.
—Wyman Manderly,
Lord of White Harbor,
Warden of the White Knife.
Wyman slowly lowered the parchment afterward.
The final sentence lingered in his mind.
the future now rising beyond the Wall.
Gods.
Even writing it felt strange.
Because part of him truly believed it now.
Winter's Heaven was not simply another kingdom.
It was becoming something else entirely.
The next morning, the giant raven arrived.
The guards still feared the creature.
The massive black bird landed upon the rookery tower while smaller ravens scattered in panic around it.
Too large.
Too intelligent.
Too calm.
One guard muttered quietly:
"That thing watches like a man."
Wyman ignored him.
He carefully tied the message tube onto the raven's leg himself.
For several moments, the bird simply stared at him silently.
Its red eyes unsettled him every time.
Then suddenly—
It launched into the snowy skies.
Fast.
Far too fast.
And vanished northward.
Days passed afterward.
Then more.
Winter deepened across the North while White Harbor remained alive beneath expanding trade.
Yet Wyman found himself looking northward more often now.
Waiting.
Because despite all his calm reasoning…
Part of him wondered if he had made a mistake.
Inside taverns and lordly halls alike, rumors regarding Winter's Heaven only continued growing.
Some claimed:
• giant iron roads crossed the kingdom
• glowing lights illuminated entire streets at night
• ships moved without sails
• giants built cities beside free folk craftsmen.
Most stories sounded impossible.
Yet so had the Titan.
And everyone had seen that with their own eyes.
One evening, several northern merchants sat beside the fire inside New Castle discussing the matter quietly.
"You truly believe he'll allow it?"
"He allowed trade."
"This is different."
"Aye."
One older merchant lowered his voice.
"Do you know what frightens me most?"
The others looked toward him.
He stared into the fire.
"That none of the stories sound completely impossible anymore."
Silence followed.
Because that was the truth.
Months ago, men laughed at stories of railways and steamships.
Now?
No one laughed anymore.
Far away, inside Winterfell, Eddard Stark quietly read one of White Harbor's recent reports beside the Great Hall fire.
Robb stood nearby.
"So Wyman wants drawings of the city?"
Ned nodded once.
Robb looked thoughtful.
"Do you think Jon will agree?"
Ned remained silent briefly.
Then quietly answered:
"Yes."
Robb looked surprised.
"You sound certain."
Ned's eyes drifted toward the northern storm beyond the windows.
"Jon always preferred people who sought understanding over fear."
Simple words.
Yet somehow heavy.
Meanwhile—
Far beyond the Wall—
Winter's Heaven thrived beneath falling snow.
Trains crossed frozen plains nonstop while steamships moved between industrial harbors. Factories illuminated the snowy night while giant workers helped expand rail systems stretching farther every month.
And high above the glowing city—
Jon Snow stood within a massive chamber overlooking maps spread across a long table.
Across from him stood Alex.
"The Lord of White Harbor requests permission to send envoys."
Jon accepted the parchment calmly.
He read Wyman's message in silence.
Once.
Then again.
Alex crossed his arms.
"What do you think?"
Jon's eyes paused briefly upon one line.
not as spies—
but as honored guests.
A faint smile touched his face.
Rare.
Small.
But genuine.
"He understands respect," Jon said quietly.
Alex looked mildly surprised.
"That's enough?"
Jon placed the parchment down calmly.
"Most men south of the Wall would've sent spies already."
That was true.
The South feared what it did not understand.
Wyman Manderly, however, sought to learn openly instead.
That alone separated him from many lords.
Jon slowly walked toward the enormous window overlooking Winter's Heaven below.
Snow drifted endlessly across glowing districts while trains moved like lines of light through the frozen darkness.
Civilization.
Built from nothing in fourteen years.
Finally Jon spoke again.
"Approve the request."
Alex nodded slightly.
"I'll arrange transport."
Jon's eyes shifted northward toward the distant ocean.
"The Titan will retrieve them."
Alex blinked.
"The Titan itself?"
Jon nodded once.
The reason was obvious.
Crossing the entire northern continent by sea was nearly impossible for ordinary ships.
The journey:
• circled enormous frozen coastlines
• crossed violent northern oceans
• lasted months for normal fleets.
Most ships never returned.
Only Winter's Titan crossed those seas reliably.
And if Wyman's envoys were to witness Winter's Heaven properly—
They would arrive safely.
Alex exhaled slowly.
"White Harbor will panic when the Titan appears again."
Jon's expression remained calm.
"Good."
Days later—
During heavy snowfall—
The giant raven returned to White Harbor.
Guards spotted it descending from the northern skies like a black shadow.
By the time Wyman reached the rookery tower, the creature already waited silently beside the message tube tied to its leg.
The old lord carefully opened the parchment.
And froze.
Only a few lines rested inside.
Lord Wyman Manderly,
Your request is accepted.
Send only trusted men.
Winter's Titan arrives in twenty days to retrieve them.
—Jon Snow
Wyman slowly lowered the parchment.
For several long moments, he simply stood there listening to distant harbor bells echo across snowy White Harbor.
The Titan itself was coming.
Not cargo vessels.
Not smaller transports.
The floating city.
One nearby guard swallowed nervously.
"My lord…"
Wyman looked northward beyond the storm-covered sea.
And for the first time since sending the request—
He truly understood what this meant.
His men were about to leave the known world behind.
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