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The morning sun cast long shadows through the tall windows of New Castle's solar as Arthur Snow entered Lord Wyman Manderly's private study. The room was carefully arranged—rich tapestries depicting the history of House Manderly, ledgers stacked with mathematical precision, and a collection of Far Eastern curiosities that spoke of extensive trade connections. Everything designed to impress while subtly demonstrating the breadth of White Harbor's reach.
Lord Wyman rose from behind his massive oak desk, his considerable bulk draped in fine green silk that probably cost more than most lords spent on arms and armor. His smile was warm and genuine, but Arthur noticed the sharp intelligence in those small eyes, the careful assessment happening behind the jovial facade.
"Arthur Snow, welcome! Please, sit. I've had the kitchens prepare some excellent honey cakes and imported wine from the Arbor." Wyman gestured to a chair positioned perfectly—close enough for intimate conversation but not so close as to seem presumptuous.
"Your hospitality continues to exceed expectations, Lord Manderly." Arthur settled into the offered seat, noting how it placed him with his back to the window while giving Wyman clear sight lines to the door. Professional courtesy or subtle positioning? With Manderly, probably both.
As if summoned by some invisible signal, servants appeared with refreshments—not the simple fare promised, but an elaborate spread that included delicacies from across the known world. Tyroshi pears, Dornish peppers preserved in oil, cheese from the Vale aged to perfection, and wines that spoke of connections reaching far beyond Westeros.
"I confess," Wyman said once they were alone again, "I have been most eager for this conversation. The reports from King's Landing have been... illuminating. Though I suspect the truth is far more complex than tavern tales suggest."
Arthur accepted a cup of wine, noting its quality while studying his host's expression. "Truth often becomes distorted in the telling. What reaches White Harbor as legend may have begun as something far more mundane."
"Ah, but you see, that's where my position offers certain advantages." Wyman's smile grew sharper. "White Harbor is not just the North's largest port—we're the crossroads where information flows like trade goods. I receive reports from King's Landing through multiple channels, not just official ravens or merchant gossip."
The fat lord moved to a side table where several sealed documents waited. "My agents in the capital are... thorough. They observed your encounter with Ser Jaime directly, spoke with servants who witnessed the King's reaction, even managed to interview several members of the small council." He returned with a leather portfolio. "Would you like to know what they reported?"
Arthur set down his wine cup with deliberate precision. "I would be interested to hear your interpretation of events."
"My interpretation?" Wyman laughed, but the sound carried no humor. "My dear Arthur, interpretation suggests ambiguity. What my people describe is quite specific." He opened the portfolio and withdrew a detailed report. "Ser Jaime Lannister, finest knight in the realm, defeated in moments without you drawing steel. The Mad King rendered catatonic by... what? A look? A gesture? Something that left the court convinced they had witnessed sorcery."
The room fell silent except for the distant sounds of the harbor filtering through the windows. Arthur could hear gulls crying, ships' bells, the ordinary sounds of commerce and life continuing while two men negotiated over power that could reshape the realm.
"Sorcery is a dramatic word," Arthur said finally. "Men see what they expect to see, especially when confronted with techniques outside their experience."
"Techniques." Wyman leaned forward, his massive frame somehow conveying intensity despite his size. "That's the key word, isn't it? What you did in King's Landing—it can be taught. Learned. Replicated."
"To some degree, perhaps. With proper training, sufficient dedication, and natural aptitude." Arthur met the lord's gaze directly. "Though the gap between basic competence and practical mastery is... substantial."
"But the foundation can be shared. The principles can be understood." Wyman's eyes gleamed with the sort of avarice that had built merchant empires. "Which brings us to the heart of why you're here, why I've gone to such lengths to secure this meeting."
The lord rose and moved to his window, gazing out over White Harbor's bustling docks. "House Manderly has served House Stark faithfully for generations. We've provided gold, ships, men, whatever was needed to maintain northern unity and independence. But we've always been... peripheral to the great game. Too far from King's Landing to matter politically, too focused on trade to command martial respect."
"Your position has brought considerable prosperity," Arthur observed. "Some might consider that preferable to political prominence."
"Some might, yes. But prosperity without power is fragile. Subject to the whims of kings, the ambitions of rivals, the changing tides of fortune." Wyman turned back to face Arthur, his expression deadly serious despite his jovial appearance. "What you've accomplished changes everything. A northern lord's retainer defeating the realm's finest knight, reducing the Mad King to helplessness—it announces that the North has resources the South never suspected."
Arthur nodded slowly, recognizing the calculation behind Wyman's reasoning. "And you want White Harbor positioned to benefit from that announcement."
"I want House Manderly to survive what's coming," Wyman said bluntly. "Your actions in King's Landing didn't just humiliate individuals—they challenged the entire southern assumption of superiority. Kings don't forget such challenges. Neither do ambitious lords seeking royal favor."
"You believe there will be retaliation."
"I believe there will be war." Wyman returned to his seat, his bulk settling with a finality that suggested decisions already made. "Perhaps not immediately, perhaps not directly, but your demonstration has shifted the balance of power in ways that cannot be ignored. The South will respond, and when they do, the North will need every advantage we can muster."
Arthur sipped his wine while processing the implications. Wyman's analysis aligned disturbingly well with his own assessment, though the merchant lord's focus remained narrowly political. He couldn't see the supernatural forces already mobilizing, the eastern powers viewing Arthur as a threat to their own long-term plans.
"What exactly are you proposing, Lord Manderly?"
"Alliance. Partnership. Call it what you will." Wyman withdrew another document from his portfolio. "White Harbor's resources placed at your disposal in exchange for... access to your methods. Training for selected individuals, consultation on defense preparations, and your support for House Manderly's increased prominence in northern politics."
Arthur accepted the document and scanned its contents quickly. The terms were generous—almost suspiciously so. Funding for the Hollow Vale's expansion, ships for transportation, connections throughout the trading networks, even access to Wyman's spy network. In exchange, Arthur would provide military training for chosen Manderly retainers, serve as an advisor for defensive preparations, and lend his growing reputation to legitimize House Manderly's ambitions.
"These terms seem... heavily weighted in my favor," Arthur observed.
"Because I'm not negotiating from a position of strength," Wyman admitted with startling honesty. "House Manderly has gold, ships, and connections. You have something that could reshape the balance of power throughout the realm. The mathematics are simple—I need what you offer more than you need what I can provide."
"And yet you're still offering it."
"Because the alternative is worse." Wyman's expression darkened. "If war comes—and it will—neutrality won't be an option. Houses will be forced to choose sides, and those without clear advantages will be crushed by those who possess them. I'd rather be allied with the power that can make kings catatonic than standing against it."
Arthur set the document aside and studied his host's face. The fear was genuine, barely concealed beneath the merchant's calculated exterior. Wyman Manderly, for all his wealth and political acumen, was terrified of the future Arthur's actions had set in motion.
"You're not just offering alliance," Arthur realized. "You're asking for protection."
"Yes." The admission came without hesitation. "Protection for my house, my people, my city. In exchange, I offer everything White Harbor can provide to ensure your success." Wyman leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Because if you fail, if the southern lords find a way to destroy you, everyone associated with you will be destroyed as well."
The honesty was refreshing after days of political maneuvering and diplomatic courtesy. Arthur appreciated Wyman's directness, even as he calculated the true cost of accepting such an alliance.
"There are complications you may not have considered," Arthur said carefully. "The southern lords aren't the only ones taking notice of recent events. I have reason to believe eastern powers are also... interested in my activities."
"Eastern powers?" Wyman's eyebrows rose. "You mean the Free Cities? The Dothraki?"
"Among others. Powers with resources and techniques that make southern politics seem simple by comparison." Arthur met the lord's gaze directly. "Association with me may bring enemies you're not equipped to handle."
"More dangerous than royal wrathー than southern armies?"
Arthur thought of the assassins who had tried to kill him on the ship, the supernatural surveillance Maelen had detected, the ancient powers stirring in response to his actions. "Different kinds of dangerous. The sort that strike from shadows, use methods your guards can't defend against, target not just military assets but anyone connected to their primary objective."
Wyman was quiet for a long moment, his merchant's mind clearly working through risk assessments and probability calculations. When he spoke again, his voice carried the weight of decision made despite fear.
"Then we'll need to be ready for that as well. White Harbor's connections extend throughout Essos—if eastern threats are mobilizing, my people will learn of it. Information shared is protection multiplied."
"And if your people become targets themselves?"
"Then they knew the risks when they chose to serve House Manderly." Wyman's expression hardened. "I won't sacrifice my house's future for the illusion of safety. Better to face known dangers as allies than unknown ones as isolated targets."
Arthur nodded slowly, recognizing the courage behind the calculation. "Very well. But I have conditions of my own."
"Name them."
"First, this alliance remains between us initially. No public announcements, no formal ceremonies. If we're dealing with enemies who strike from shadows, we need flexibility to respond without diplomatic constraints."
"Agreed. Discretion serves both our interests."
"Second, the training I provide will be... selective. Not every technique can be safely shared, and some knowledge carries risks that extend beyond military applications. I determine what gets taught and to whom."
"Understood. You maintain control over your methods."
"Third, if circumstances require it, I reserve the right to terminate this arrangement without warning. The threats we may face could evolve rapidly, and I won't have my people trapped by obligations that become liabilities."
Wyman hesitated at that condition, clearly uncomfortable with the lack of security it implied. "How can I plan effectively without assurance of continued partnership?"
"By building capabilities that don't depend entirely on my presence. The goal should be making White Harbor strong enough to survive on its own, not creating dependence that becomes vulnerability." Arthur leaned back in his chair. "I'm offering to help you build strength, not to become your permanent protection."
"I... see the wisdom in that approach, though it's not what I had hoped for."
"What you hoped for was impossible," Arthur said bluntly. "Permanent security doesn't exist, especially not in the world we're creating. The best I can offer is the tools to adapt and survive whatever comes."
Wyman was silent for several minutes, staring at the document between them while his mind processed the implications of Arthur's conditions. Finally, he reached for his quill.
"Very well. Discrete alliance, selective training, terminable at your discretion. I accept your conditions." He began making notations in the margins of the document. "Though I hope you'll give me advance warning if termination becomes necessary."
"If circumstances permit, yes. But you should prepare for the possibility that circumstances won't be cooperative."
As Wyman finished his amendments and signed the document, Arthur reflected on what he had just committed to. Alliance with House Manderly provided resources and intelligence he needed, but it also created obligations that could complicate his responses to threats. The balance between support and independence would require careful management.
"There is one more matter," Wyman said as he set aside the quill. "I've received... inquiries about you from several other parties. Lords seeking meetings, merchants offering trade arrangements, even a few individuals whose credentials seem... questionable."
"How questionable?"
"Men with too much gold and too few explanations for how they acquired it. Traders whose goods don't match their claimed origins. Travelers asking very specific questions about your capabilities and whereabouts." Wyman's expression grew troubled. "I turned them away, of course, but their persistence suggests organized interest rather than casual curiosity."
Arthur's alertness sharpened. "How recent were these inquiries?"
"The most recent was yesterday, just hours before your ship arrived. A well-dressed man claiming to represent Pentoshi merchants, but his accent was wrong and his knowledge of Pentoshi trade practices was... limited." Wyman reached for another document. "I had him followed. He didn't return to any inn or merchant vessel—simply disappeared into the crowd near the docks."
"Description?"
"Medium height, dark hair, expensive clothes but nothing too distinctive. What struck my people as odd was how he moved—too aware of his surroundings, too careful about sight lines. Professional training, but trying to hide it."
Arthur nodded grimly. The foreign surveillance was closer and more immediate than he had expected. "I'll need those descriptions, and any other intelligence your people gathered."
"Of course. But Arthur..." Wyman's voice carried genuine concern. "If these eastern powers you mentioned are already positioning agents in White Harbor, doesn't that suggest they're moving faster than anticipated?"
"Yes," Arthur said simply. "Which means our timeline for preparation has just shortened considerably."
The morning sun had shifted, casting different shadows through the solar's windows. Outside, the sounds of the harbor continued unchanged—gulls, bells, the ordinary business of a thriving port. But inside the room, two men had just forged an alliance that could reshape the political landscape of the North, while acknowledging that forces beyond their complete understanding were already moving to influence or destroy everything they hoped to build.
Arthur rose from his chair, their business concluded but their real challenges just beginning. "Lord Manderly, I believe this partnership will prove beneficial to both our houses. But I suggest you begin implementing additional security measures immediately. If yesterday's visitor was reconnaissance, the real threat may not be far behind."
"What sort of security measures?"
"The sort that assume your enemies know more about your capabilities than you know about theirs. Vary routines, increase patrols, watch for patterns in seemingly random events. And trust your instincts—if something feels wrong, it probably is."
As Arthur moved toward the door, Wyman called after him. "How long do we have? To prepare, I mean. Before whatever's coming arrives."
Arthur paused, his hand on the door latch. "Honestly? I'm not sure we have as long as we think we do. But we have whatever time remains, and we'll make the most of it."
The alliance was sealed, but Arthur left Lord Manderly's solar with the uncomfortable certainty that events were accelerating beyond anyone's ability to control them. The game of thrones had gained new players, but the board itself was changing in ways that would challenge every assumption about power, loyalty, and survival.
In the harbor below, ships rocked at anchor while their crews went about the routine business of loading and unloading cargo. But Arthur wondered how many of those vessels carried more than legitimate trade goods, and how many of their crews were exactly what they appeared to be.
The storm was no longer approaching—it had arrived. Now came the test of whether the alliances being forged could weather the winds of change, or whether they would all be swept away by forces too powerful for politics and gold to contain.