Well then, Arya Stark had chosen her fate. I could not deny her the right to choose—but I had that right as well, and now I would exercise it. It brought me no joy, and I had no desire to act. But I was obliged to behave accordingly. I had Margaery, I had children, I had gained friends. There is something important—something I might even call fateful—that I must accomplish in this world. I knew what threatened Westeros, and I believed I could influence what was to come.
It was painful to make such a decision, but I would not allow Arya Stark to kill me—or any of those close to me. I could not permit it. I would not allow her to become one of the Faceless Men—that would be far too dangerous for all of us.
From a purely logical standpoint, it even worked in my favor that the boil had burst now. Without delay, I summoned Harald Orm.
"In a week, send a letter to Asio Copin—if Arya Stark appears in Braavos, and if she is seen in the House of Black and White, he is to kill her."
"In the House of Black and White? She intends to become one of the Faceless?" Orm's position required him to remain composed at any news. He had not yet mastered that art perfectly.
"Yes, Orm. Exactly so. I have heard that she seeks revenge and is looking for a way to achieve it. To do that, she will become one of them."
"Where should we arrange surveillance and the contract? Only in Braavos? Are other cities and places of no interest to us?"
"Correct. I am willing to accept it if she goes anywhere else. But if she appears in Braavos—you know what to do." I dipped my quill into the inkwell and made a note in my papers. "Do not forget to report once it is done."
"Yes, Your Grace." Orm bowed and withdrew.
I had done what I believed to be right and necessary. It was not an easy decision, but it was dictated by circumstance. Now it was your move, Arya Stark. By all the gods—forget Braavos and think twice about how this may end!
***
Lysa Arryn gathered the required sum, and Lord Mathis Rowan set out for Gulltown, embarking upon the royal galley Lion and Rose and taking command of a fleet of ten ships.
He took five hundred thousand and delivered it safely to Braavos, handing it over to the Iron Bank. On his return, he stopped once more at Gulltown, collected the second half of the indemnity, and then made for the capital.
With preparations for a new war underway, our expenditures had risen sharply this time, and a deficit had begun to form in the treasury. Thus, the five hundred thousand golden dragons came at a most opportune moment. It gave us room for financial maneuvering and spared us from having to borrow again.
Despite the fact that since my arrival in Westeros we had been at war and forced to make difficult decisions, the Crown's debt had steadily declined. At the very beginning, it had stood at nearly seven million! An absolutely astonishing sum. Now it had been reduced to a far more manageable three million three hundred sixty thousand, and we had a respectable reserve in the treasury itself. I regarded this as an undeniable achievement. Naturally, many had contributed—the Hand, Tyrion, Rowan, Mace Tyrell, the late Tywin Lannister, and others. It was both encouraging and reassuring: with proper effort, much could be accomplished.
***
The greenery opened.
Something had changed—I felt it in every fiber of my being. At once, I turned my attention north.
I needed to meet Bran Stark. In previous attempts, I had managed to pinpoint his location. He had settled somewhere underground. Above him rose a large barrow, crowned by a massive weirwood tree. An unceasing wind drove low, gray clouds toward the northwest, through whose breaks the cold northern sun occasionally flickered. Snow covered the entire landscape, and dark mountains, like frozen warriors, loomed in the distance. Despite the cold and the snow, the weirwood had not shed its leaves, and they now rustled uneasily. It felt as though hundreds of crimson eyes were watching me with wary attention.
I could not pass inside or "reach" Bran in any way. But this time, I was fortunate.
Thousands of the dead stood around the barrow. Their bodies—some well preserved, others fully decayed; clothed or naked, armored or bare—surrounded it like a sea. A dead sea, which at any moment might awaken and flood the world with cold fury.
They stood silent and unmoving, a manifestation of a terrible power that lay dormant—for now.
Three Others—tall, frozen through and through, clad in frost-rimed, ice-like armor—stood upon a small rise, watching the barrow intently. They were waiting! It seemed that time meant nothing to these beings, that they could remain perfectly still and utterly calm for as long as they wished.
By then, I had begun to understand how to avoid drawing their hostile attention. The key was simple—do not meet their gaze, and keep your distance. Then it was not so easy for them to sense anything.
For a long time—hours—I remained in that place, occasionally returning to the Red Keep, opening my eyes, and assuring Orm that I was well.
Turquoise lay nearby. She was well-fed, content, and seemed to understand that I was engaged in something important.
And then, toward evening, as twilight settled upon the land and the reddish sun prepared to sink below the horizon…
I saw Bran.
(End of Chapter)
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