The ship sailed through the night beneath a sky drowned in storm clouds.
Cold wind lashed against the sails while the sea roared beneath the vessel like some restless beast refusing sleep. The monastery knights remained wrapped beneath blankets across the deck, though very few truly rested. The wounds from Green City still lingered among them, and the bruises of battle had not yet faded from their bodies.
Newton stood near the edge of the ship for most of the journey. Silent, and thinking.
The dragon egg remained hidden carefully among his belongings below deck, yet he could not stop thinking about it. Every now and then, his hand unconsciously drifted toward the satchel hanging across his shoulder as though he needed reassurance that it still remained there.
The useless stone egg. Or perhaps not useless. It is still commercially valuable. Or maybe it would have hatched if a Dragarian touched it.
That uncertainty bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Twice during the journey he attempted sleeping, yet his thoughts always dragged him awake again. Tywin noticed it but said nothing. The older knight had barely spoken since that night on the ship.
Newton noticed the difference..But he could not understand it. The voyage stretched through the next day and then another before land finally appeared again through the gray mist ahead.
"The Wall," one of the knights announced. Relief spread quietly across the ship.
Home.
Meanwhile, far ahead of them, Edmond Woodland had already arrived at the monastery.
Snow crushed loudly beneath the hooves of his horse as he approached the great northern Wall with two hundred soldiers riding behind him. The monastery fortress towered above the frozen mountains like an ancient god carved into stone itself.
Cold wind swept across the cliffs violently. Edmond raised the sigil of House Woodland high. The guards watching from above immediately recognized it.
"Open the gate!" one of them shouted.
The massive iron gate groaned loudly as chains pulled against frozen gears. Snow fell from the walls while the entrance slowly opened wide enough for horses to pass through.
Edmond wasted no time. He rode inside with his men immediately. The monastery courtyard stretched ahead, crowded with knights training beneath the cold sky. Steel clashed against steel while prayers echoed faintly from deeper within the fortress halls.
Edmond dismounted sharply. "I am here to see the grand master." A knight bowed quickly. "At once, my lord."
The man hurried away. Edmond paced impatiently while Lord Martins and the other northern soldiers remained nearby watching the monastery carefully. The place always carried a strange atmosphere. Quiet. Heavy. Like every stone inside the walls remembered blood.
Five minutes later, movement stirred near the upper staircase.
Grand Master Aemon emerged slowly. White robes flowed behind him while silver symbols rested heavily across his chest. Though older now, his presence still carried the same quiet authority Edmond remembered from youth.
The moment Edmond saw him, his tension loosened slightly. A smile finally crossed his face. He walked forward quickly and embraced the old man. "It has been fifteen years since I last saw you."
Aemon laughed softly and clasped his shoulders. "The grand master never leaves the Wall." His eyes glimmered faintly.
"That is the rule." Edmond nodded. Of course he knew. Everyone knew. The grand master belonged to the monastery more than to the world itself.
Then Aemon's gaze shifted past Edmond toward the soldiers behind him. His expression changed slightly. "I cannot find Newton among the men you brought."
Edmond blinked once. "What?" Aemon looked toward him fully now. "He left the monastery with three hundred knights."
The old man frowned faintly. "Heading toward Snowland."
Edmond's face tightened immediately. "He never arrived." The words landed heavily between them.
Aemon froze.
For the first time since stepping outside, uncertainty crossed the grand master's face openly. "What do you mean he never arrived?"
Edmond shook his head slowly. "I came here because he missed the weekend." His voice lowered. "He has never missed before."
Silence spread.
A cold wind swept through the courtyard. Several nearby knights exchanged uneasy glances.
Then Aemon's hand trembled slightly at his side. "Something is wrong." The words came low, and uneasy.
The old man stared somewhere beyond Edmond now, deep in thought. "Newton is not the type to abandon his path unless something forced him away from it."
Edmond's jaw tightened hard. The same thought had been tormenting him for days already. Now hearing Aemon confirm it only made the fear worse. For a long moment neither man spoke.
The monastery suddenly felt colder. Then Edmond stepped closer and placed one hand against Aemon's shoulder.
"Do not worry." Though his own voice lacked certainty. "I will find out what happened."
Aemon nodded slowly, though tension still lingered heavily across his face. The grand master held Edmond's arm tightly before releasing him. "The moment you learn anything."
His eyes hardened. "You bring me word immediately."
Edmond nodded once. Then turned sharply. Within moments he was already mounting his horse again while his soldiers prepared beside him.
"Ride!"
The northern army surged back through the monastery gate and disappeared into the snow-covered wilderness. Edmond rode hard.
Too hard.
The cold air burned his lungs while snow battered against his face, yet he never slowed. His thoughts moved endlessly faster than the horse beneath him.
Newton missing. Three hundred monastery knights gone. No message, no trace. His grip tightened around the reins. Every terrible possibility forced its way into his mind.
Bandits, ambush, rebellion.
Dead. "No."
He rejected the last thought instantly.
Newton was alive. He had to be. Edmond rode through the Newbremear villages asking questions one after another. "Did you see holy knights pass through here?"
The first village shook their heads. "No, my lord." The second village offered the same answer.
Nothing, no sign of Newton or where he might have been.
Edmond's frustration deepened. But by the third village, things finally changed. A young boy stepped forward nervously while clutching a basket against his chest. "Yes, my lord."
Edmond turned immediately. The boy swallowed hard beneath the attention of two hundred armed soldiers. "They passed through here."
Edmond dismounted quickly and crouched before him. "When?"
"Some days ago." The boy pointed toward the southern roads. "They traveled with a wounded dwarf."
Edmond's eyes narrowed immediately. "A dwarf?"
The boy nodded eagerly. "He called himself Kelvin Ezion of House Ezion."
Lord Martins cursed softly beneath his breath. Edmond already knew the name.
Green City.
Southern politics must have erupted. He knew there was trouble. "What were they doing?"
The boy shifted nervously. "They came to buy warriors."
Edmond's expression darkened further. "They said they were helping the dwarf reclaim his castle from his uncle."
For several seconds Edmond said nothing. He simply stared downward at the frozen ground while understanding slowly settled inside him. Of course Newton did it. Of course. The boy always had a weakness for the helpless.
Even as a child he could never ignore suffering. Edmond closed his eyes briefly. "You should not have done that." The words escaped quietly. "The monastery has no place in the politics of the Nine Kingdoms."
Yet despite the frustration inside him, something else lingered there too. Pride, reluctant pride.
Newton saw injustice and stepped toward it anyway. Just like Edmond himself once did long ago. Edmond exhaled sharply and rose. "Thank you."
The boy bowed quickly while Edmond mounted his horse again. "Ride south." The soldiers obeyed instantly.
By nightfall they reached the shoreline. The sea crashed violently against the rocks while fishermen hurried to secure their boats against the incoming storm winds.
Edmond immediately began arranging ships for travel. "We sail for Green City now."
Several sailors hurried nervously to prepare the vessels while northern soldiers carried supplies aboard. Lord Martins approached carefully. "My lord, if Newton truly involved himself in Green City's rebellion."
Edmond cut him off. "Then I will drag him back myself." Yet even he knew the words lacked anger now.
Mostly relief.
If Newton fought in Green City, then at least he was alive.
Edmond stood near the water watching the dark sea uneasily while the final preparations continued behind him.
Then suddenly a soldier shouted from further down the shore. "My lord!"
Edmond turned sharply. The man pointed toward the distant horizon. "Over there!"
Several others began climbing the rocks for a better view. "An army approaches!"
Edmond narrowed his eyes against the sea wind. At first he saw only shapes emerging slowly through the mist.
Then the banners became visible. White, and silver. The sigil of the monastery. Relief struck him so suddenly his knees nearly weakened. A smile finally broke across his face for the first time in days. "They are the ones returning."