Chapter 69

The next day, Bulan felt that countless people had newly arrived in Winterfell, because too many people were blocking the city gate, waiting to see that unicorn. As for Bulan, there were Manderly family's knights who urgently needed him to receive them, so he could only watch from afar.

When Shasha rode her unicorn into the city, he stood on the bridge outside the hall; far off he saw his companions gathering to go greet, as if they were welcoming a princess on a tour.

She truly was like a princess, both in attire and appearance.

Bulan merely sent clothing and food; actually, the Maester silently did more—he had already sent Bandi and Pala out of the city to accompany that girl from Skagos Island.

Pala was the daughter of the kennel master Falan; she herself was quite wild—sometimes Bulan felt it was too much. Bandi was the daughter of the newly appointed master of horse Jocelyn; she also had a twin sister Xila.

It could be seen that the two ladies had at least dressed her like a lord's daughter, while Shasha herself was obviously very pleased, riding the unicorn, she looked down on the people gathered on both sides, extremely proud.

Bulan also saw Ruiken and his big black wolf there.

Not long after that girl entered through the city gate, she saw Ruiken and his wolf; she then rode the unicorn, pushed through the crowded crowd, and ran toward the wolf.

After approaching, she dismounted from the unicorn and rushed toward Maomaogou; Bulan clenched his clothes in panic, not knowing what to do if Maomaogou bit off her neck……

Maomaogou retreated two steps, bewildered, while Ruiken laughed loudly beside her; then he saw Ruiken take the girl's hand and place it on Maomaogou's neck.

Bulan only saw that, then hurriedly passed through the guest room, the armory, and the bridge to return to the main hall.

When he took his seat, Sir Gaersimandele entered the hall with ease; his cloak bore a bifurcated emblem: on the right, the green mermaid of House Manderly, on the left, a yellow elk. Three knights entered the hall with him.

"I offer the greetings of Earl Manderly of White Harbor to you and all the lords." He made a half-bow, displaying great elegance.

"Please rise, Sir; your long journey is appreciated." This is the standard reply.

After he and the three knights behind him rose, the Maester gestured for them to sit. Miss Moli poured them black ale.

"My lord, after learning of the matter, the Earl of White Harbor has already sent fleets to search the seas between the Three Sisters Islands and White Harbor repeatedly, yet found no trace of Lady Shansha or the vessel she sailed on. I regret to say we suspect her ship has sunk at sea. At the time of the incident, the Bite Bay was under storm." He spoke as if addressing Bulan, but actually gave a brief overview to those present, saying, "Please accept our condolences."

"Sir, besides Ser Dantos, those who left Dragonstone with him also included Lady Melisandre and a knight; they believe Lady Shansha is not dead and are still outside Winterfell." Bulan replied. This was not only to counter the claim that Shansha had died, but also because the men of Stannis were likewise not allowed inside, so treating them thus could not be considered rude.

In fact, Bulan also wished to let Ser Gande enter Winterfell, for he had assisted Ser Dantos in smuggling Shansha from King's Landing to Dragonstone, showing bravery; moreover, he himself had been knighted for this deed.

Bulan also knew their purpose in coming to Winterfell: they were seeking an alliance on behalf of Stannis, but this could only be decided when Mei returned to Winterfell; neither Bulan in Winterfell nor the council had authority to set policy, so whether they entered the city would make no difference.

They carried the king's commission, but were not the king's authorized representatives and could not act on the king's behalf.

Afterwards, Sir Gaersimandele and Sir Luodelike, among others, discussed the defense strategies for Winterfell and its surroundings. Bulan was glad that Sir Kongqi Kongdun was absent, otherwise the officers of Winterfell might have started arguing in person.

Sir Kongqi Kongdun, upon hearing talk of defense, would curse cowards; his stance had always been to march straight to attack the Dreadfort.

Even if Bulan understood, he had not considered the troop disparity between Winterfell and the Dreadfort; if he now heard that the Earl of White Harbor could provide three thousand cavalry and three thousand infantry, he would surely renew his proposal for an attack plan, even though he knew the council would never decide on battle.

Bulan did not grasp his reasoning.

During their discussion, Bulan tried to remain patient, wishing this meaningless meeting would end quickly, for before Mei returned, any speculation and baseless strategy held no significance and would not gain his support.

They might have fought battles, but could never win as spectacularly as Mei; they might know much intelligence, but could not see more clearly than the birds in the sky.

Throughout the morning, he wasted time on such meaningless affairs.

He longed to spar with his companions in the training yard, to run a lap with Summer in the godswood.

When the meeting finally ended, following the Maester Luwen's instruction, he "enthusiastically" invited Sir Gaersimandele to dine together.

At lunch, he first saw Shasha up close.

She had dark brown hair, blue eyes, clad in a grey-blue fox-fur coat adorned with direwolf motifs; at that moment he almost thought Arya had returned.

She was taller than Arya, looked more mature, and her eyes sparkled; before many knights and strangers she showed no fear, and Bulan thought, if he were her, he would surely be weeping nonstop, having heard that her father had just been killed by a passing wildling.

In fact, she had not wept; upon seeing him she immediately asked him:

"Are you the little wolf of Winterfell?"

Bulan had never answered such a question before, feeling somewhat embarrassed.

"I am Bran Stark of Winterfell; my sigil is the direwolf, 'woof,' that is it." He replied.

Bulan pointed at Xia Tian standing beside him; perhaps Shasha would no longer think this was some little wolf. Xia Tian stuck out his tongue, looking at Shasha.

"The wolf on the family crest is pure white, but it is silver-gray mottled." She voiced her doubt.

Only White Spirit is pure white; Xia Tian is the tundra wolf whose color is closest to White Spirit's. But White Spirit belongs to Qiongenxuenuo, who is at the Great Wall, and he is not the Duke of Winterfell either.

"Welcome to Winterfell as a guest." Bulan announced; that was what he wanted to say.

Pala gestured for her to take a seat.

After the noon banquet began, the maids served plate after plate of food: there was grilled fish in tomato sauce made from fish just scooped from the river, there were fresh orange-juice oysters from the sea, and Winterfell's most fashionable braised beef and braised bones.

Bulan, following the principle of fairness, sent each dish separately to each guest, but he asked Molly to individually serve small portions of the dishes he liked most and send them to Shasha.

It was clear that Shasha also liked Winterfell's food.

"Miss Shasha, why didn't your attendant Hongliyu appear? Is he ill?" the scholar asked.

Ordinary luncheons are relatively simple, without clinking of cups; after finishing their meal, everyone quickly turns to other work, and there is little conversation, unlike evening banquets.

And guests like Shasha, who come from afar and may stay long-term, are more casual; most of the time they dine on their own, only attending formal meals when the host requests it.

"Hongliyu said his status was unsuitable for attending, so he didn't want to eat here."

"I heard he sleeps outdoors at night?" the scholar pressed.

"On the road to Winterfell we've always slept outdoors. But I don't know why, after arriving, he also refuses to stay indoors."

Bulan thought it might be that they weren't invited into Winterfell, so he protested in this way.

"Miss Molly," Bulan indicated the braised beef placed before him, "please send these to Hongliyu."

Shasha held up her knife, clapped her hands, and smiled brightly: "Hongliyu will surely like it. He loves meat the most. Thank you, little wolf!"

The knights of the Mandle family burst into laughter at the girl's words. Bulan felt his face flush.

"Miss Shasha, before you are the Warden of the North and the Duke of Winterfell, Bulandeng Shitake." the scholar reminded.

Now it might be a little wolf, but later it may not be.

Besides the main dishes, there were various vegetables from the glass garden, roasted apples, honey-glazed chicken wings, and lemon cake. It was clear that Shasha loved every kind of food.

After the luncheon ended, Sir Luodelike escorted the knights out of the city, while Miss Molly took Shasha to her residence in Winterfell.

Bulan then had to follow the scholar to continue studying the morning's lessons that had been delayed.

Actually, he wanted to rush to the unicorn for a close-up look, but he would not defy the scholar.

"Do we still have to study the family crest and the clan language today?" Bran asked.

"No, today we study history, but that includes the family crest and the clan language."

"What history?" Bran always treats history as a story to learn, so he doesn't dislike history. Earlier he had already studied the history of the Targaryen dynasty, including his favorite part, the Blood Dragon Dance.

"The history of Skagos Island." The maester's gray robe and gray eyes made Bran feel his tone was gray as well.

"The history of the Poole family?" Bran asked.

"It includes the history of the Poole family. The Poole family is merely one of the nine well-known families on the island. They are famed for the warm-water hot springs by the sea. Their crest is a unicorn dipping its head in the hot springs on a snow‑white plain. As for the clan language, there is no record, but if you come into contact with Sasha, remember to ask him. Tomorrow I will question you and write down the record."

"All right, maester." If this is just homework between classes, it's quite simple and easy.

"According to the record of Maester Turstud of the Citadel, the islanders of Skagos are likewise descendants of the First Men, but having long been isolated from the mainland, their customs and even their faith differ from those of the North, though the Old Gods are still worshipped as spirits."

"Only after the Red King took control of the island did they have contact with the mainland."

"Of course, their origins are also the subject of other theories—for instance, some scholars believe they are descended from the ancient Ibbenese, and there is some evidence for that. For example, Ibbenese ships often caught in the currents cross the Shivering Sea and reach Skagos, while Skagos ships are sometimes carried to Ibben Island; thus the currents produce occasional contact between the two islands. Most notably, unicorns once existed on Ibben as well, though they are said to have been hunted to extinction. But in any case, they have more interaction with the mainland."

"Why would people hunt unicorns? Aren't they ridable, and I've heard they can even shoot lightning!" If people liked horses, they would surely breed them to increase their numbers, not decrease them.

"Their horns are too precious. 'He who carries a jade is guilty of his own innocence.'" The maester said.

"What does that mean?" The more precious something is, shouldn't we cherish it more?

"Do you still remember the little sword Meera gave you?" Maester Luwin mentioned that the sword had once hung above Bran's bed, but he later put it in a drawer and locked it away because Rickon kept taking it to hack around, leaving nicks on the blade, so it had to be stored. Seeing Bran nod, the maester sighed, "After seeing that little unicorn, I realized the sword was made from a unicorn's horn. Even in the Age of Heroes, the unicorn's horn was still their weapon."

Bran wanted to take out that little sword and have a good look at it.

"Everyone thinks unicorns are extinct—even when I saw Sasha's unicorn I thought the same. But even if they aren't extinct, they may not be far from it."

"Why?"

"I already told you, child. Their horns are too precious, yet they cannot defend themselves. Precious things that cannot protect themselves will be taken by others—that's the way of this world, child. So if we want to protect the North, we too must be strong enough."

Bran nodded heavily. His direwolf had grown large, and he believed it was now as big as his brother Robb's Grey Wind. Sometimes he thought Meera should bring him south as well, so his summer could be of use on the battlefield.

"During the Red King's rule, Skagos often rebelled and raided Bolton's lands along the coast; the Boltons repeatedly suppressed the uprisings and enfeoffed their own descendants there, of whom the Poole family is a Bolton branch, just as the Karstarks are a branch of the Starks."

This sudden information made Bran feel strange. "Then they don't swear fealty to the Boltons?"

"This happened almost thousands of years ago. I suspect the records at the Dreadfort are more detailed. Back then, the entire east coast of the North belonged to the Red King, while the farther west belonged to the King of Winter, with the Long Lake and the White Knife River long serving as their border."

Bran listened, entranced.

"It's very similar to the border we have with the Boltons today."

"Will the Boltons cross the White Knife River?" Bran asked.

"The White Knife River isn't any narrower than the southern Trident. With a fleet's picket blockade, it shouldn't happen—but in winter, the White Knife River and Long Lake freeze over, making crossing easy. Winter is also the most dangerous time. That's why Meera dares to go south then. But, winter is coming, Bran."

"I don't fear winter, maester."

"You've never even experienced a winter!" the maester laughed. "We should be afraid, even terrified."

"Only when one is afraid can one be brave." He recalled his father's words.

"Very good, Bran, that saying is quite right." The maester's weather‑worn face relaxed a little, then sank back into bitterness. "But I want to talk about the very wording of that clan proverb. Because we fear and dread winter, we make thorough preparations to meet the toughest challenge. The Red King's blade is sharp, yet ultimately it is proven that harsh winter is keener than the sharpest sword; the Red King's sword will snap in the cold, falling to the well‑prepared King of Winter."

Bran liked such a story and grinned, "But Meera won a battle—what preparations did she make?" She looked as if she had made none, taking her own and a few families' cavalry racing south for a circuit and then returning.

"How could there be none?"

"I haven't seen it." Bran said.

"Think about what she did before setting out? Think why she never uses her own fleet, always occupying the military harbor at White Harbor?"

Bran looked embarrassed. "Aren't we supposed to be studying Skagos Island's history?"

"Quite right. We just began with the Poole family; now, starting from the era when the two kings of the North vied for power, we will make clear the affairs of Skagos Island." The maester said.

Setting aside Brandon's fleet continually exploring the Sunset Sea and the Red King's fleet forever expanding eastward, when Bran finished his lesson he at once took out the key, opened the drawer, and found the little sword Meera had given him.

The little sword was wrapped in a white sealskin and carefully placed in the innermost part of the chest.

He lifted it out, set it on the table, and cautiously undid the sealskin.

Sunlight streamed through the window and fell on the blade, revealing a crystal‑clear, luminous transparency, with a faint sheen flowing within—so lovely that the longer one looked, the more one loved it. Bran felt such beauty could perhaps grow only on a unicorn.

On the hilt were a few characters he could not decipher, adding to the sword's mystery.

He gripped it with both hands, pressed the hilt to his forehead, and pretended he too was a unicorn.

"Moo…" he imitated the call.

Summer cocked his head and looked.

He burst out laughing, then set the sword down and prepared to re‑wrap it.

Then he noticed that the sealskin still had a strip of red silk attached.

He reached out and untied it, seeing only small writing on the cloth, so he held it up to the sunlight. Every character on it he could read:

"You must strictly obey the she‑wolf's prohibition; there is still time."

Beneath those words was drawn a black crow, its forehead bearing an extra eye; the lines of that eye were the color of the silk, like blood.

Bran felt his heart not only tremble but ache terribly, as if someone had seized it in a fist and was squeezing it tight.