The hunting party set out at dawn, and the king's wish to have a wild boar feast added to tonight's banquet was being answered quite nicely.
And thanks to Robert's insistence the day before, Prince Joffrey—who had grown strangely disinclined to go outside since arriving at Winterfell—was finally dragged out of his chambers to join the king on the hunt.
Robb had also heard the news and had been preparing since the night before. Now, he too was riding with the hunters.
He had decent archery skills. There was a good chance he'd land something today.
Benjen Stark, Jory, Theon Greyjoy, and Ser Rodrik were also part of the hunting party. Even the queen's ridiculous little brother had tagged along, full of enthusiasm.
After all, this was their final chance to hunt in the North. Tomorrow, the royal party would begin their journey south—
—with the newly named Hand of the King riding at the king's side.
Though the Imp, seated atop his custom-crafted saddle, had decided to continue heading northward to see if the wonders described in books truly existed…
That didn't stop him from tagging along for a bit of fun.
Kal and Jon, however, hadn't joined the king's hunting party.
Kal's excuse was that it was the last day and he needed proper rest to prepare for what came next.
The king didn't mind this excuse, of course—come or don't, he didn't care either way.
But the Imp, who knew his friend well, couldn't help but suspect Kal just wanted to slack off. Otherwise, why would he be acting so oddly?
Now, with the king's party gone, Kal—who'd used the excuse of wanting Jon to show him what a "Heart Tree" looked like—suddenly lifted his head from the icy spring ahead of them.
He stood within Winterfell's sacred godswood, brow furrowed as he looked toward the tall rooftops of the castle.
"That's your little brother, isn't it? I think his name was Bran?"
Kal suddenly raised a hand and pointed toward a tiny figure leaping across the rooftops of the connected castle towers.
...
Bran left his direwolf beneath one of the sentinel trees outside the armory wall. After settling him down, he scratched behind the wolf's ears, then excitedly turned around and leaped.
He grabbed a low-hanging branch, flipped himself over, and quickly climbed the tree.
Yet, when he was halfway up, moving effortlessly between branches, the little wolf suddenly jumped to its feet and began howling up at him.
The sound was sharp and piercing, attracting unwanted attention.
Instinctively, Bran stopped his movements and looked down.
The wolf instantly fell silent, raising its glittering yellow eyes to gaze up at Bran, who clung to the branches.
For some inexplicable reason, Bran felt a strange chill run down his spine.
However, he ignored the feeling and continued climbing.
The moment he moved, the wolf resumed howling.
"Quiet!" Bran snapped irritably. "Sit still and behave! You're worse than Mother!"
Having scolded his wolf, Bran turned back to his task.
Yet the wolf's howls persisted, following him until he jumped onto the armory's rooftop and vanished from sight.
Meanwhile, Kal, still in the godswood, suddenly turned his head toward Jon and remarked: "I heard a dog barking!"
Jon rolled his eyes. "That was a wolf—probably Bran's."
"But I've never heard your Ghost howl like that," Kal said suspiciously. "Is he mute?"
"Ghost is just quieter…" Jon admitted, feeling somewhat puzzled himself.
Among the six direwolf pups, Ghost had always been a bit different.
Even Lady was considered more talkative compared to him.
Jon could only conclude his direwolf was unique among its siblings—special in its own way.
Just like himself.
And cautiousness was essential to survival.
...
The rooftops of Winterfell could almost be considered Bran's second home.
His mother told him he had learned to climb walls even before he learned to walk.
Bran couldn't quite recall when he first walked, nor could he remember the moment he first climbed a wall.
So, he assumed his mother must be right.
To Bran, Winterfell's rooftops were the place closest to the sky. Once he reached the highest point, the entire castle spread beneath him, open to his view.
He cherished these moments because Winterfell revealed its expansive grandeur before him.
The bustling crowds and noisy conversations were all beneath his feet.
Only the birds circled above him.
Moreover, Bran had uncovered many hidden secrets of Winterfell through his climbing.
For instance, when the builders first constructed the castle, they had never fully leveled the terrain outside the walls. As a result, beyond Winterfell's perimeter lay not only rolling hills but also hidden streams and ravines.
He even knew of a sealed-off bridge that connected directly from the fourth floor of the bell tower to the second floor of the rookery.
Additionally, by entering the inner castle walls through the southern gate and climbing up to the third floor along the staircase, one could find a narrow stone passage.
This passage circled Winterfell, eventually leading beneath the shadows of the hundred-foot-high walls to the bottom level of the northern gate.
…
"So you all just let Bran climb up and down freely every day?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if he breaks a leg someday!"
Kal voiced his blunt "curse" as he led Jon toward Bran's direction.
Jon couldn't help but twitch his mouth hearing his knight's candid words.
"Lady Catelyn is actually terrified he might fall someday—or even worse, fall to his death…"
"Yet, even when Bran promised not to climb anymore, that promise barely lasted two weeks. On the very last night, he snuck out of the window after Robb fell asleep…"
Kal nearly burst into laughter at Jon's anecdote.
Watching the disappearing dark speck, Kal sighed softly, "I suddenly have a bad feeling about this…"
"So what happened next?"
"Out of guilt, Bran confessed his actions. Lord Eddard punished him by sending him alone to the godswood to repent!"
"Father was furious and even stationed guards to watch over him."
"But by the next morning, Bran had vanished again…"
"In the end, they found him sleeping soundly high in the branches of the tallest sentinel tree in the woods."
Jon looked helpless as he spoke.
"After that, everyone just accepted his stubbornness."
"…"
Kal stopped, lifting his hand to point ahead again. "What's over there? Can we go that way?"
Jon glanced quickly and answered without hesitation, "That's the inner courtyard, where we practice archery."
"What about that domed building?"
"It's the First Keep, the oldest building in Winterfell. It's no longer in use—I've heard only rats and spiders live inside, so I suppose they've made it their home," Jon explained, raising his head and surveying the castle with an expert gaze.
Kal continued his questions. "And what's the tallest one over there?"
"That's the Broken Tower. I heard that over a hundred years ago, lightning struck it, setting it ablaze," Jon replied. "Originally, it was much taller. It's said that about a third of the structure collapsed inward during the fire, and it was never rebuilt afterward."
"However, Lord Stark occasionally sends people to clear out the rubble and rat nests on the lower floors," Jon added proactively, not waiting for Kal's next question. After all, Kal had invited him today precisely to understand Winterfell thoroughly.
Jon suspected that perhaps Ser Kal Stone wished to learn how castles were constructed, possibly planning to leave behind a castle for his future family after acquiring lands of his own. Therefore, Jon's explanations were especially detailed.
"So, it's just a ruin now!" Jon remarked.
"Oh? Is that so?" Kal narrowed his eyes toward the Broken Tower. "But I noticed your little brother heading that way."
"Let's go and take a look!"
"I'm worried he might fall," Kal continued, smiling faintly, his eyes glittering with an odd gleam. "Believe me, my instincts are sometimes more accurate than you might think!"
Meanwhile, Bran Stark had finally reached the Broken Tower from the battlements at the northern end. As usual, he moved adeptly among the gargoyle statues.
However, just at that moment, he suddenly heard voices speaking.
Startled, he nearly lost his grip and fell.
Regaining his balance, Bran's face filled with bewilderment.
After all, the First Keep had always been a deserted place!
...
"I don't like this," said a woman's voice drifting from a window below, reaching Bran as he hung in midair.
Beneath him stretched a row of windows.
"It should be you serving as Hand of the King!"
"Spare me," replied a man lazily.
"I want no part in such drudgery. I have plenty of other things I'd rather be doing…"
Hearing the two of them speak, Bran was suddenly seized by fear. He didn't dare swing forward anymore, afraid they might see him as he passed by.
So instead, he clung tightly to a carved statue protruding from the stone wall, suspending himself in the air with only his arms.
"Can't you see the danger lurking behind all this?"
"Robert treats that man like a brother!"
The woman's voice grew louder, clearly displeased with the man's indifference.
But the man didn't seem concerned at all. He even sounded amused.
"Robert can't stand either of his brothers. But who can blame him? Anyone would feel sick dealing with someone like Stannis!"
"Don't be a fool. Stannis and Renly are one thing. Eddard Stark is something else entirely!"
"When the time comes, Robert will hang on Stark's every word. Damn it, both of them can go to hell. If I'd known this would happen, I would've pushed harder for him to name you Hand. I always thought Stark would refuse!"
"We've been lucky enough as it is..." The man let out a soft chuckle at her outburst, then gently tried to console her.
"By the gods, if Stark had turned it down, who knows? The king might've named one of his brothers—or that Littlefinger—as Hand!"
"I can sleep better facing an enemy who cares about honor than one driven purely by ambition!"
Bran didn't understand much of what they were saying, but when he heard them mention Eddard Stark, he suddenly realized they were talking about his father.
He instinctively flared his nostrils, trying to catch more of the conversation.
Bran looked down toward the windows below. He figured he needed to move just a few more meters closer.
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