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The training yard of Winterfell had been cleared of all but essential personnel. Dawn light cast long shadows across the packed earth as Arthur Snow stood before two young men whose futures would shape the North's ability to face the threats gathering on all horizons.
Brandon Stark moved through sword forms with the fluid grace that marked his enhanced capabilities, but Arthur could see the instability in his energy flow—the borrowed qi fighting against Brandon's natural patterns like oil refusing to mix with water. Each strike carried power, but the power lacked the seamless integration that came from proper foundation building.
"Stop," Arthur commanded, and Brandon immediately halted mid-strike.
"What do you feel?"
"Strength," Brandon replied, breathing only slightly harder than when he began. "Speed. Awareness of everything around me. But also…" He frowned, struggling to articulate the sensation. "It doesn't feel like mine."
He gestured for Brandon to lower his practice sword.
"We're going to fix that, but it requires returning to absolute basics. You must build your own foundation from the ground up, even though you already possess advanced capabilities. It will feel like going backward."
Brandon nodded, accepting the necessity if not thrilled by the timeline. "Where do we begin?"
"Stance training. The most fundamental exercise in all martial cultivation."
Arthur demonstrated a position that looked deceptively simple—feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, arms extended forward with palms facing each other.
"This is called the Foundation Pillar. You'll hold this position while circulating qi through specific meridians, gradually forcing your body to recognize and accept the foreign energy as its own."
"How long do I hold it?"
"Until your legs give out. Then you rest, eat, and do it again. Every day, for months, until your body stops fighting the energy flow and begins directing it naturally."
Arthur studied Brandon's expression, watching for signs of the impatience that could undermine such tedious training.
"This is not glorious work, Brandon. It's the unglamorous foundation that makes glory possible."
Brandon moved into the stance, his enhanced strength making the position seem easy at first. But Arthur began guiding him through qi circulation patterns that deliberately created resistance, forcing Brandon's body to work against the borrowed energy rather than simply using it.
Within minutes, Brandon's legs began trembling. Within ten minutes, sweat poured down his face despite the morning chill. Within fifteen, he collapsed to his knees, gasping.
"Again," Arthur said without sympathy. "This time, focus on making the energy move where you want it rather than where it wants to go."
Across the yard, Benjen Stark practiced sword forms under Thom's watchful eye. At twelve, the youngest Stark son was too young for the Foundation Breaking technique, but Arthur had identified something in him that required different training entirely.
"Your sword work is improving," Thom observed, noting the precise economy of Benjen's movements. "But Arthur mentioned you have potential for a different path. Something beyond conventional martial training."
Benjen paused mid-form, lowering his practice blade.
"I've been having dreams. Strange ones. I see through the eyes of animals—wolves in the forest, ravens circling the castle, even fish in the streams. And sometimes…" He hesitated, as if afraid to speak the words aloud. "Sometimes I see through the trees themselves. Through the heart tree in the godswood."
Thom's weathered face showed no surprise. "You're a greenseer. Rare among the Stark children, though not unheard of in the bloodline's history. Arthur suspected as much when you detected the wrongness approaching from beyond the Wall."
"What does it mean?"
"It means your path diverges from conventional martial cultivation. While Brandon focuses on physical enhancement and combat techniques, you'll develop abilities that connect you to the land itself, to the network of weirwoods, to the consciousness that some believe runs through all living things in the North."
Arthur approached, having left Brandon to his repetitive stance training.
"Greenseeing is both gift and burden, Benjen. The visions can be overwhelming, and the temptation to lose yourself in other consciousnesses is constant. You'll need discipline that goes beyond physical training."
"How do I begin?"
Arthur's expression grew thoughtful.
"There's a fundamental technique you should master first—one that will anchor your mind when the visions threaten to overwhelm you."
The monks had fought fiercely when he'd stormed their temple, Arthur recalled, suppressing a faint smile at the memory. Their abbot had been particularly stubborn. But before the end, the old man had spoken of their methods—how they fortified the mind against demonic qi and external influences.
"Sit." Arthur demonstrated a meditation posture that would be familiar to any experienced practitioner. "We'll begin with what I call the Four-Foundation technique. First, you focus on your breath—observe each inhalation and exhalation without trying to control it. This is your first anchor to reality."
He settled into position, his voice taking on a measured cadence.
"Second, you observe your bodily sensations—the pressure of the ground beneath you, the temperature of the air, the beating of your heart. Third, you observe the arising and passing of emotions without attachment. Fourth, and most crucial for your gift, you observe thoughts themselves as merely phenomena, not truth."
The Shaolin method, stripped of its religious trappings, Arthur thought. Perfect for someone who needs to maintain awareness while their consciousness splits between past, present, and future.
"Breath control first. Everything else builds on proper breathing."
Benjen's breathing slowed and deepened, his young face relaxing into a state of focused calm that seemed beyond his years. After several minutes, a subtle shift came over him—his posture straightened further, and though his eyes remained closed, there was a new quality to his stillness.
"The thoughts," Benjen whispered, his voice distant. "They're separating. I can see them arising… like ripples on water. Some are mine. Some are… other."
"Good," Arthur said quietly, watching the boy's progress with satisfaction. The abbot had taken years to reach this stage. This child has done it in minutes. "Don't try to grasp at them. Simply observe. Let them pass through your awareness like clouds across the sky."
Benjen's brow furrowed slightly. "There are… currents. Deeper than thought. Old. They pull at me."
"That's your gift trying to assert itself," Arthur advised, keeping his tone steady. "Acknowledge it exists, but maintain your center. The Four Foundations are your anchor. Return to your breath when the pull grows too strong. Learn to navigate that awareness without being overwhelmed by it."
The boy's natural talent is extraordinary, Arthur thought. With proper training, he could maintain perfect clarity even in the deepest visions.
In the great hall, Lord Rickard Stark stood before a detailed map of the North, placing markers for the lords he would summon to Winterfell. The decision to call a general assembly had not been made lightly, but the disturbances from the aerial explosion and the growing threats on multiple fronts made it necessary.
"All the major houses," he said to Maester Luwin, who was preparing the ravens that would carry the summons. "Umber, Karstark, Manderly, Bolton, Mormont, Glover, Dustin, Ryswell, Cerwyn. And the lesser houses who maintain substantial forces—Flint, Norrey, Tallhart."
"Such a gathering hasn't been called in years, my lord," Luwin observed, his chain jangling as he reached for fresh parchment. "The lords will want to know the reason for the assembly."
"Tell them the truth—that the North faces threats requiring coordinated response and enhanced defensive capabilities. That I wish to establish a formal institution for training individuals in techniques that can counter supernatural attacks." Rickard's expression was grim. "And that recent events have demonstrated our conventional defenses are insufficient against the enemies now targeting our lands."
"Some will be skeptical about the supernatural elements."
"Then they can speak with Arthur directly and judge for themselves whether the threats are real." Rickard moved to the window overlooking the training yard, where he could see his sons working under Arthur's guidance. "I'm calling this assembly to give them a choice—prepare for the future, or remain vulnerable to forces they don't understand."
"When should we schedule the gathering?"
"Two weeks hence. That gives the farthest lords time to travel while maintaining urgency about the situation." Rickard turned back to the maester. "And Luwin… include a sealed addendum in each raven. Information about Arthur's capabilities that they should read before arriving, so they come prepared to discuss enhancement rather than spending the entire assembly being convinced such things are possible."
Luwin hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with committing such extraordinary claims to writing. "My lord, if these messages were intercepted…"
"Then we'd face the same revelation we'll inevitably face when southern powers learn the truth. Better to control the disclosure than have it forced upon us." Rickard's voice carried absolute conviction. "The North kept its own counsel for thousands of years before Aegon's Conquest. Time we remembered how to do so again."
That afternoon, Arthur gathered his enhanced allies in Winterfell's deepest chambers, where ancient stones and careful qi-working had created a space isolated from external observation.
"The school we're establishing needs structure beyond simply teaching techniques," he began, addressing the seven individuals whose capabilities now exceeded normal human limits. "We need curriculum, progression paths, and methods for identifying candidates who can safely undergo advanced training."
Lyanna spread several documents across the table—training manuals Arthur had written, assessment criteria for potential students, and organizational structures for managing what would essentially become a secret order dedicated to supernatural warfare.
"I've been working with Vaeren on categorizing the techniques we've learned," she reported. "Basic cultivation that anyone with dedication can master, intermediate methods requiring natural aptitude, and advanced techniques that demand both talent and proper foundation."
"We should establish ranks," Garron suggested. "Clear hierarchies that let students understand their progression and give instructors authority over those they're training."
"Agreed, but we must avoid creating rigid structures that prevent adaptation," Arthur cautioned. "The enemies we face will evolve their techniques, and our training must evolve with them."
They spent hours developing the framework for what would become the North's first formal cultivation school. Training would begin with conventional martial arts and physical conditioning, gradually introducing qi-flow exercises to those who showed aptitude. Only after years of preparation would students attempt the Foundation Breaking technique, and even then, only under careful supervision.
"What do we call it?" Sarra asked. "This institution we're creating needs a name that commands respect without drawing unwanted attention."
Arthur considered this carefully. The name would shape how both students and outsiders perceived their organization.
"The Hollow Vale served us well as an informal training ground," he said finally. "But this is different. This is about preserving knowledge and preparing defenders against threats most people don't even know exist."
"The Winter Guard," Maelen suggested quietly. "Watchers who stand against darkness, named for the season that defines the North."
"Too martial," Redna objected. "It suggests we're only training soldiers when we're developing capabilities that go far beyond conventional warfare."
"The Northern Academy," Thom proposed. "Simple, dignified, and vague enough not to reveal our true purpose."
Arthur nodded slowly. "The Northern Academy. Dedicated to advancing human potential and defending against supernatural threats. Those who know its true purpose will understand the significance, while outsiders will see only a school for exceptional students."
"And the ranks?" Garron pressed.
"We keep them simple. Initiates who are learning basic cultivation. Adepts who have mastered fundamental techniques. Masters who have completed Foundation Breaking. And Guardians—those like yourselves who serve as instructors and protectors of the Academy's knowledge."
They worked late into the night, creating the structures that would support the North's defense for generations to come. Training schedules were developed, assessment criteria established, and methods created for identifying potential students among the northern population.
"One more consideration," Arthur said as the meeting drew toward conclusion. "Security. The Academy will attract attention from exactly the forces we're preparing to fight. We need defensive measures that go beyond conventional fortifications."
He produced scrolls covered with ward patterns similar to those he had placed throughout Winterfell.
"I'll teach all of you how to create and maintain these barriers. Between your enhanced capabilities and proper ward-work, we can create a location that's nearly impregnable to supernatural assault."
"Where will we establish the Academy?" Lyanna asked. "The Hollow Vale is known now. We need a location that offers both security and isolation."
"I've been considering that," Rickard said, entering the chamber with the quiet authority of a lord on his own ground. "There's an old fortress in the northern mountains—abandoned for decades but structurally sound. Remote enough to avoid casual observation, defensible against conventional assault, and large enough to house both training facilities and living quarters for students and instructors."
"How soon can we begin construction?" Arthur asked.
"Immediately, if we commit the resources. I can have work crews dispatched within days, though completing the facility will take months." Rickard moved to stand before the table where their planning documents lay spread. "But I want your word, Arthur—this Academy serves the North first and foremost. Whatever conflicts arise with southern powers or eastern threats, the institution you're building remains dedicated to defending these lands."
"You have my word," Arthur replied without hesitation. "I was born in the North, and it is both my home and my purpose. Everything I build here is to protect the people who once gave me that chance."
As night fell over Winterfell, Brandon Stark finally completed his stance training for the day, collapsing in exhaustion but feeling the first subtle shifts in his energy flow. The borrowed qi was beginning to respond to his will rather than simply following preset patterns.
Across the yard, Benjen emerged from meditation with eyes that held a newfound clarity, already beginning to sense the subtle currents of awareness that lay beneath the surface of ordinary thought. The wild, uncontrolled quality of his gift seemed momentarily quieted, replaced by a calm centeredness that hadn't been there before.
In the depths of the castle, Arthur's enhanced allies completed their planning, creating structures that would outlast them all and serve purposes they were only beginning to understand.
And throughout the North, ravens carried messages summoning lords to an assembly that would reshape their understanding of power, duty, and the threats gathering on all horizons.
The foundations were being laid—not just for a school or an order, but for a transformation of northern society that would determine whether they could survive the wars approaching from both frozen wastes and foreign shores.
Winter was coming, as it always did. But this time, the North would be ready.