Dacey's arrival created a phenomenon Harry hadn't expected.
The Lords began sending their heirs to Winterfell so they could become acquainted with Harry, the future Lord of Winterfell.
That way, they wouldn't be complete strangers, and the good relationship between the Lord and his bannermen would continue.
Over the course of two months, seven heirs from important Northern Houses arrived.
The Houses that didn't send anyone were those whose heirs were either daughters who weren't warriors or heirs who weren't the right age.
It wasn't that Harry blamed them. In fact, he'd been a little irritated by their presence over the past few days.
A bunch of arrogant teenagers and young men who spent their time arguing, and since he was the host—and perhaps the future Lord Stark—they kept dragging him into their disputes to settle them.
Sometimes they seemed like children trying to prove who was right.
From House Umber came Smalljon. Harry hadn't seen him since the war, and after a few years, he'd grown even bigger, nearly reaching his father's size.
From House Flint came Robin. Harry hadn't known him before. His House had many branches throughout the North.
From House Hornwood came Daryn, Lord Hornwood's eldest son. Their lands bordered Winterfell's, so Harry had seen him a few times when he accompanied his father.
From House Ryswell came Roger, who had once visited with his father when Harry had been given Ater.
From House Tallhart came Benfred. Harry was much more familiar with him since he often visited with his father, as House Tallhart had been among the first to receive the improved seeds.
From House Cerwyn came Cley, who, like Benfred, was a familiar face thanks to House Cerwyn's proximity to Winterfell.
From House Karstark came Harrion. It was Harry's first time meeting him, a young man with a beard and cold eyes.
Having to mediate between all of them annoyed him, but it only took a little of his time. What truly irritated him was that House Bolton's heir had also come... and worse yet, Harry actually liked him.
He had to admit that during their first meeting, he'd had certain prejudices. He'd expected someone like Draco Malfoy, but after getting to know him, he realized he wasn't a bad kid at all, despite looking remarkably similar to his father.
He was a calm, idealistic person who didn't seek conflict, but he was incredibly skilled in combat and loved horses. He'd fallen completely in love with Ater and constantly went to visit him, staring in amazement at his size and strength.
In general, they were all quite young. The oldest was around twenty.
After another month of living together, Harry almost wanted to grab a broom and chase them all away. His reading hours were constantly interrupted. He couldn't understand why they were so restless. Were they children?
Going hunting, fishing, holding tournaments among themselves, horse races, or even visiting brothels to decide which one was the best.
Fond of all those activities, they constantly tried to drag Harry along with them.
Hidden away in his tower, Harry looked out the window at the noisy scene below. Jon and Domeric were fighting fiercely while the others watched.
At least he didn't have to worry about them. They were both calm by nature, and there wouldn't be any arguments afterward.
But things couldn't continue like this. Wearing a thoughtful expression, Harry extended his palm and murmured a spell.
Mist swirled above his hand before forming a number.
4.3
Magic had grown considerably. Still, according to what he'd learned from books, the mages of this world were extremely primitive. That didn't necessarily mean it was true. Books didn't hold the absolute truth. The world was enormous, as far as he knew, and he hadn't even fully explored the continent where he'd been born.
For all he knew, there could be a hidden school of magic somewhere, just like Hogwarts.
On the other hand, across the sea...
There were tales of a great empire far beyond the Free Cities, and even farther than the Dothraki Sea.
Asshai also fascinated him. According to the information he had, it seemed to be the place with the greatest concentration of magic users.
He had no idea how high the ambient magical concentration could eventually rise. It was still minuscule now, but what if one day it suddenly became abundant?
Accustomed to important events always seeming to follow him, Harry decided to prepare himself.
If the day ever came when magic increased dramatically, he wanted to have a wand in his hand.
And even if he never ended up needing one, he planned to find out whether his sisters could use magic. For that, a wand would also be useful.
All of that made him decide to at least try making a wand, even if it was one he'd be embarrassed to pull out in the magical world.
He had already researched the possible materials.
Now he simply had to go collect them.
Originally, he had planned to spend the year quietly reading and training, but traveling for a while didn't sound bad either.
He could take that bunch of hormone-driven troublemakers out for a ride.
When he told his father, Ned gave him his approval and simply told him to be careful.
After saying goodbye to his family, twelve people rode out of the castle toward the south.
Harry had several reasons for heading south: visiting Moat Cailin, visiting House Reed, and last but certainly not least, hunting a lizard-lion, a creature that, according to what he'd read, was anything but ordinary.
As he rode at the front, Harry glanced over his shoulder and couldn't help pursing his lips. Dacey was riding Uru, who lumbered along behind the horses.
It was clearly difficult for him, despite being almost the same size as a horse. It was obvious that bears weren't built for running long distances, especially not with a rider and luggage on their backs.
Harry had told her it would be better to ride a horse, but she was stubborn and insisted that Uru could carry her.
"You should've left a week earlier. Then we might've arrived at about the same time," Theon said, mocking Dacey for bringing up the rear.
"You'd better worry about not biting your own tongue," Dacey replied, glaring daggers at Theon.
Several of them let out quiet laughs. After spending a month together, although they still argued from time to time, everyone knew they would probably be brothers-in-arms for many years.
As such, the fights had become much less heated as they grew familiar with one another.
As long as they followed Harry, their disagreements would never amount to more than minor issues.
After half a day's ride, the group stopped at Cerwyn, the seat of House Cerwyn. A grand feast was prepared for them, and Harry noticed that everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves while drinking.
Though if he were honest, he sometimes felt a little out of place in that kind of atmosphere.
"What's wrong? You don't drink?" Dacey asked after taking a sip.
"I'm twelve," Harry replied, staring at her speechlessly.
"And the problem is?" Dacey asked, her cheeks slightly flushed.
"Forget it. I just don't enjoy it that much," Harry said, pursing his lips.
"Come on, have a sip. Mine's pretty mild," Dacey said with a smile as she held out her mug.
Harry looked at it for a couple of seconds before taking a sip.
It wasn't bad.
"See?" Dacey said, giving him a beautiful, intoxicating smile.
"Not bad," Harry said briefly.
"Want me to get you one?" Dacey asked, smiling at him.
Harry glanced around. Nearly everyone already had a mug in hand.
"Fine," Harry replied with a small, resigned smile.
....
The following morning, they continued riding south along the Kingsroad. Aside from the occasional village, they would probably have to sleep out in the open.
But since they were all Northerners, they were somewhat used to it. Carriages were usually reserved for ladies.
Each horse... and bear... carried its rider's belongings, including a small collapsible tent.
They drank water from streams and ate whatever they could hunt.
After a week of travel, they finally reached Moat Cailin.
A place that had become almost legendary, built by the First Men and said to have held back invasions from the south for ten thousand years.
Of course, none of that former glory remained before his eyes.
Only ruins.
In the middle of a vast marshland stood twenty stone mounds. Atop them were the remains of what had once been twenty defensive towers.
Only three still stood.
Yet even with just those three, any army attempting to cross the Causeway would suffer greatly.
The towers were spread apart and surrounded by swamps. Even if capturing one wasn't impossible, any attacker would have to endure constant fire from every direction.
The best way to invade the North was definitely by sea.
Of course, Harry was thinking about all of this, but the reality was that only a dozen men guarded the entrance.
Moat Cailin was almost abandoned.
Of course, Harry thought about all of this, but the reality was that there were only a dozen men guarding the entrance. Moat Cailin was almost abandoned.
One of the reasons was that his father wasn't concerned about an invasion from the south, at least not a surprise invasion.
The marriage to the Tullys guaranteed him a certain degree of protection against invasions.
Not to mention that the king was his best friend. The North didn't need defenses from the south.
Of course, that was true now. Harry wasn't sure if it would still be the case in the future.
After all, his father was loyal to the king, but he wasn't.
He had never liked playing politics, nor did he consider himself good at it.
"Harry," Jon said, touching Harry's back.
"Hm?" Harry said, snapping out of his thoughts and looking at Jon.
"You've been staring at the ruined towers for quite a while," Jon said, looking at him.
"I was lost in thought. Isn't it amazing? They say Moat Cailin can repel an army ten times larger than its defenders," Harry said with a smile.
"It looks terrible," Theon said speechlessly as he looked at the ruined towers, earning a look from everyone else.
"It will have to be rebuilt soon," Harry said, ignoring Theon's words.
"Why? There's no war anymore," Smalljon said, looking at Harry in surprise.
"Wars come and go. Just because it doesn't seem like it now doesn't mean there won't be one in the future," Harry said.
Everyone fell silent and reflected on Harry's words. Although they were heirs and had received a proper education, they didn't dare compare themselves to Harry in terms of intelligence.
Sometimes they joked that Harry was smarter than all of them put together.
"Let's continue. We still have a long way to go," Harry said, gently urging Ater forward.
As they ventured deeper into the Neck, the terrain became increasingly swampy and dangerous.
Insects, snakes, toads, salamanders—all of them venomous. It was no wonder the place was so feared.
Without a proper campfire and constant vigilance, someone could easily die without ever realizing what had happened.
Fortunately, Harry had come prepared. Before going to sleep, he sprinkled a powder around the campsite.
When he told everyone there was no need to stand watch if they didn't want to, they all stared at him in shock.
Harry ignored them and entered his tent. Murmuring a spell, mist swirled through the air before forming a number.
5
Magic was noticeably more active here than around Winterfell.
Of course, that was excluding the Godswood with its weirwood.
Outside the tent, everyone exchanged uncertain looks.
Even though they had seen him scatter the powder, they couldn't help feeling uneasy as the countless noises echoing from the depths of the swamp reached their ears.
Some doubted its effectiveness.
Others simply didn't care.
Dacey was the first to crawl into her tent and go to sleep. She knew Harry could use magic. If he said there was no need to stand watch, then there was no need to stand watch.
Jon and Theon also went to sleep after a brief moment of indecision.
That left the other young men standing there, looking at one another without knowing what to do.
"Is this some kind of test?" Roger Ryswell asked uncertainly.
"I don't think so. It wouldn't really test anything except whether we trust him blindly, and it's obvious none of us do after such a short time together. That wouldn't make much sense. Maybe he meant exactly what he said," Domeric replied with a smile before entering his tent.
"I suppose the powder will keep the dangers of the swamp away from us," Smalljon said before climbing into his tent without overthinking it.
One by one, everyone entered their tents until only Roger Ryswell and Harrion Karstark remained.
Neither of them felt comfortable falling asleep without someone keeping watch, so they agreed to take turns standing guard.
The following morning, Harry was the first to emerge from his tent, looking refreshed and in high spirits.
A simple charm had made the ground beneath him as soft and comfortable as his own bed.
Looking around the camp, he was greeted by an amusing sight.
Roger and Harrion had both fallen asleep while on watch, leaning against one another, shoulder to shoulder, their heads resting together.
He had, of course, heard their conversation the night before.
To Harry, it didn't matter.
Everyone wanted to keep their own life in their own hands.
What surprised him was how many people had trusted the powder he'd casually scattered around the camp and gone to sleep without hesitation.
Without disturbing them, Harry cast a detection spell around the campsite to see if there was anything worth hunting.
Unfortunately, he found nothing besides a few snakes and toads.
It looked like dried meat would have to do for the day.
Leaving aside the rather comical scene that unfolded once everyone who had slept well woke up and saw Roger and Harrion.
The group packed up camp, fed the horses with the reserve feed they carried, and continued along the Causeway.
----
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