A Cold God, Chapter 14

I stood in the gathering hall, unmoving. The torches cast weak light over the woven rugs and wooden beams. The Elder sat across from Captain Benjen Stark, who had removed his armored gloves to better handle the simple clay cup of water she offered him. Outside, I sensed his fellow riders settling by their scaly mounts, watchful yet calm. The People, for their part, kept a polite distance from those newcomers, though the children were eager to touch the scaly mounts and their riders were more than welcoming. A hush settled in the hall.

The Elder nodded once, urging Captain Benjen to continue. He sipped, set the cup down, and shifted his posture. The seat he occupied was a low stool, carved of local wood. It creaked under his weight. He kept his gaze fixed on the Elder. I watched from my usual place, a few steps behind her, my reanimated greenskin translator at my side. But I gave no orders for it to speak. I wanted to listen.

Captain Benjen cleared his throat. “As I said, Her Majesty has caught word of a larger threat. This is no ordinary conflict among kingdoms. This concerns the Dawn Empire.” 

He paused, letting the name hang in the quiet air. I’ve never heard of it before and, I assume, neither did the Elder. News of the wider world traveled slowly when one lived in a nomadic lifestyle–assuming the news ever arrived at all. I didn’t even know about these Stone-dwellers up until recently.

The Elder’s eyes narrowed. She gestured for him to continue. I felt her quiet curiosity. She leaned forward, hands placed on her folded knees.

He sighed and straightened. “The Dawn Empire lies far to the east, beyond the seas, in a land known as Essos. They command monstrous reptiles—massive creatures, scaled, fierce, and gifted with flight. They call them Lightbringers. They breathe fire that can melt stone. They have used them for centuries to dominate their territory. Old legends say they pushed back greenskin hordes in ages past. Their empire stood for thousands of years, strong behind those flying beasts. But… there are rumors now. Whispers from the far eastern edges. Some say the greenskins uncovered new tools of war. Something that overcame even the Lightbringers.”

A faint tension flickered across his features. He tightened his fingers against the rim of his empty cup. “Her Majesty wants us prepared. If the Dawn Empire collapses, or if they decide to strike west in retaliation, all Westeros might burn. We cannot stand idle.”

The Elder tilted her head, eyebrows lifting. She folded her arms, letting her bracelets clink. 

“But how does that involve us?” she asked.

Captain Benjen nodded. “Her Majesty has called for a council of all lesser and greater kings. They will meet in the grand city of Harrendale, a neutral ground. Plans for a united front must be made. If the Dawn Empire crosses the seas, or if the greenskins from the East arrive in unknown numbers, we’ll need alliances. Queen Lysara insists that The People attend as well.”

He paused, glancing at me. His jaw tightened momentarily, as though uncertain how to frame his next words. “She… she recognizes your tribe as an independent power now. Because of… him.” 

He lowered his gaze. I stood still. My reanimated greenskin translator likewise remained silent. Captain Benjen cleared his throat again. “We call him the Night’s King. We have seen his power. We heard rumors of how he purged these lands of greenskins. We respect that. Her Majesty believes The People should have a seat at the council, equal to the other kings. If anyone protests, you will have her endorsement.”

Silence gripped the room. The Elder pressed her lips together, turning her head slightly in my direction. A faint tension lined her eyes, as though she weighed a decision. She faced Captain Benjen again. “We are not used to the politics of large kingdoms. Our tribe is small. Our huntsmen are few. Even with… the Lion of Night… it is difficult to consider ourselves a kingdom.”

Captain Benjen shrugged, careful in his posture. “Queen Lysara does not doubt your might. She sees what you have here—defenses that rival any city, undead brutes that labor without rest, a being who wields cold beyond mortal ken. Even the small size of your population does not matter. You have a… power. That is enough to command respect among kings.”

My main avatar nodded at that. Because, at the end of the day, the only thing that really mattered was power and nothing else. 

The Elder’s fingers drummed lightly on her staff. She let out a measured breath. “We appreciate the invitation. But we must deliberate. We do not rush into alliances. Our people have traditions. We will speak among ourselves before we commit.”

Captain Benjen inclined his head. “Very well. I can remain until dawn tomorrow. Then I must ride back. Her Majesty expects an answer soon.” 

He reached into a pouch on his belt. From it, he withdrew a small roll of parchment, bound by an ornate seal. He set it on the ground before the Elder. “This contains details on the meeting place and time. A month from now. Harrendale, the seat of Harren the First. Many kings and queens gather. If you choose to attend, we will welcome you there.”

The Elder nodded, picking up the parchment with a careful grip. She rose slightly, offering a tight smile. “We shall deliberate, Captain Stark. Until then, you have our hospitality. We have no fine gifts to present in exchange, but we have food and warmth. That is all we can share, Captain.”

He offered a grateful dip of his head. 

“That is all we need.” Then he straightened. “We will camp near your gates tonight. Tomorrow, we leave.”

She gestured for him to follow, guiding him out of the hall. Two of my tribesmen approached, carrying bowls of stew. They bowed to the Elder, then extended the bowls to Captain Benjen. He accepted them politely, passing one to a fellow soldier who had just entered. Quiet conversation followed as the Elder led them toward a sheltered corner of the settlement, away from the chill wind. I watched them go, my reanimated greenskin watching them. I made no move to join them. My presence was not required there.

Instead, I turned away, stepping into the cold evening air. The sky had darkened further. A few scattered stars blinked overhead. My frost curled at my feet, swirling softly on the ground. I felt the distant presence of more watchers—my undead beasts roamed outside the walls, ensuring no threats crept near. The People carried on with their evening tasks, barely glancing at me. They were used to the hush that trailed in my wake. 

If the Dawn Empire was coming in from the East–or they might–I figured it’d be prudent to send some of my reanimated birds to scout the coastline. And so I did. Hundreds of them flew eastward at a single mental command, hundreds of eyes scanning the horizon for threats.

After a short while, Captain Benjen and his men finished eating. They set up small tents near the gates, their mounts tethered to a makeshift post. The People left them to their rest, offering only brief nods as they passed. Darkness settled over the settlement, broken by a few torchlights. My reanimated greenskin patrols continued their rounds, carrying axes or spears. Night in this valley remained calm.

I retreated to my vantage point by the Elder’s hut, leaning against a pillar of ice that jutted from the ground. My senses extended outward, feeling the cold wind brush against every surface. I heard the faint clank of Captain Benjen’s armor as he removed it inside a small lean-to. I heard the quiet steps of the tribe’s watchers pacing the walls. I heard the scuttle of small insects in the underbrush, each one tied to my will, each reporting no danger.

After some time, the Elder emerged from her hut. She spotted me at once, dipping her head in a subtle greeting. Her steps slowed as she approached, staff tapping the ground. Her eyes flicked to the reanimated greenskin standing behind me, then returned to me. She raised her eyebrows slightly, inviting me to walk with her.

We moved a short distance away from the huts, reaching a spot where the moonlight reflected on a patch of True Ice near the settlement’s center. The Elder rested a hand on her staff, expression firm. I stood quietly, letting the frost swirl around my ankles.

She turned to me, her mouth set in a line. 

“This gathering of kings,” she said softly, “might be our best chance. If we go, we could see the shape of the world beyond. We could sway them, perhaps, if we speak with the authority you possess.” 

She paused, breathing out. “Queen Lysara likely wants to solidify alliances. She sees us as a kingdom now. A small one, but a kingdom. Because of you, oh Lion of Night.”

I watched her, giving no verbal response. My reanimated translator remained silent as well, since I made no gesture for it to speak. The Elder’s gaze flicked to the ground, then back up. She cleared her throat. I was leaving this little decision-making part up to her, simply because I was in no real hurry. I could start my global conquest whenever I wished to do so, however I wished to do so. 

She raised her eyebrows in a show of quiet resolve. 

“I think,” she said, “we should attend. But not yet. First, we must unite the wandering tribes. They trust you. If we call them, they will come. Then we can arrive at the council with more numbers behind us. More weight.”

She lifted her chin, pride flickering in her stance. “They revere you, oh Lion of Night. They speak your name in hushed tones. If we summon them, they will join us here. Then, together, we can walk into that council hall, not as a tiny tribe, but as a force to be reckoned with–a true kingdom that demands fear and respect.”

I inclined my head, acknowledging her words. She tapped her staff lightly on the ice, lips pressed together in thought. I figured I didn’t need to speak just yet; the Elder had a lot on her mind and a lot of things to say.

“If the Dawn Empire crosses the seas, or if these newly-armed greenskins roam the East,” she continued, “we must be ready. We cannot hide in our valley. The People must stand with all who resist. But I do not trust these petty kings of Westeros. If all the tribes stand united under the banner of the Lion of Night, our voice will be louder–far louder than otherwise.”

She exhaled. The faint swirl of her breath condensed in the cold night. 

“Will you help me gather them?” she asked quietly, raising her eyebrows again.

I let a short pause linger, scanning her face. Then I nodded once, giving her my silent pledge. The Elder’s shoulders eased. She patted my forearm in a careful gesture, mindful of the chill that lingered in my aura.

She spoke again, in a low voice. “We will summon the wandering clans. The lost tribes. The hill folk. The cave wanderers. The forest climbers. The black footed ones. The folk of the western sea. All who roamed these wild lands, driven from their homes by greenskins or beasts. You ended that threat. Now they can return. Now they can be together.”

I let my gaze wander across the dim lights of the settlement. I pictured caravans of wild nomads, hardy hunters, scattered families huddling in remote caves. They all owed their survival to me or, at the very least, to the frost that cleansed these lands of monstrous brutes. If we called them, they might come. My undead workforce could help build shelters, farmland, strong walls. Perhaps we could grow into a true kingdom, one with me as its silent anchor. My reanimated greenskin nodded. “Very well.” 

The Elder squared her shoulders, a firm set to her jaw. 

“I will arrange messengers in the morning,” she said. “Or perhaps your reanimated creatures can deliver the summons. They are faster. They do not tire. I leave the method to you. But let us do it soon. We have little time before the council. We must stand as more than a scattered tribe if we want respect.”

I nodded again, letting my acceptance show. She touched my arm once more, then turned away, heading back toward her hut. I watched her go, noticing the tightness in her steps—like she carried a heavy burden, but kept it steady. The tribe’s future weighed on her mind. I understood that. It weighed on my mind too; the only difference was that I saw further ahead, far beyond what she could predict or see. 

In my mind, our people already conquered the world and all the lands beyond. 

I remained at the clearing, turning my gaze to the silent night. A short distance away, Captain Benjen’s men slept near their mounts, some dozing, others leaning on their saddlebags. I heard the soft whinny of a saurian beast, shifting restlessly. Beyond the walls, my undead paced under the moon, eyes glowing in the dark, ensuring no predator or intruder approached. The People, too, slept in simple huts or under wooden lean-tos, warmed by small fires.

Though my emotions were clouded and dulled, I found myself, in that moment, happy and content. My avatar smiled. All I wanted was to feel connected–to have people I could call my family. I don’t know what they were to me now, but I knew that I loved and cherished them, and that I would protect them from all danger.

And then, something stirred at the edge of the woods, close to the borders of civilization, where a large grove of white trees with red leaves grew in clusters. And upon those trees were odd faces–a peculiarity I’d noticed before, but never really paid much attention to. They were certainly odd, but not too peculiar when compared to everything else on this planet, it seemed. And from their branches crawled down… child-like figures with little twigs and leaves and roots upon their bodies, and whose eyes were crimson and gold and earth-brown, and whose ears were pointed… like elves. Huh… there were elves here, too?