Chapter 10 Synopsis: Poor Lord Stark has been receiving strange missives about wandering merchants for a number of moons now, from Castle Black all the way down to his closest neighbours. What will he make of our trio when they finally arrive in the heart of the North and meet its Warden? Will Harry get a chance to engage with his distant relatives? And, more importantly, will he get his hands on the Winterfell library?

____________________________________

Last Time: ... As they made their way closer to the walls, all three of them began to pick up on the distinct feel of wards over the town and castle. They'd felt weak wards covering farms in the surrounding area, but here the feel was almost like a weak static charge.

Harry in particular, was quite interested in finally meeting his distant kin, having only learnt about them after arriving in this world. As the Thenn had explained, the Starks were descendants of Ignotus Peverell.

The connection was fairly tenuous, but Harry never had much in the way of extended family outside of the Blacks, so he was excited nonetheless. He was certainly hopeful he'd like the Starks, but he wouldn't hold his breath. After all, most of his relations had been rather lacklustre, Blacks and Dursleys alike. Either way, he'd already decided it would be best to keep his history and their connection under wraps until he could gauge the attitude of the Starks towards magic. Who knows what history they still recalled from the time of Ignotus, and what they might be able to infer from his connection to the man.

____________________________________

Chapter 10: Lord Stark

Lord Edwyle Stark sat back in his chair, taking a moment to warm his hands by the fire that crackled in the hearth. Winter was always a trying time for the North, and as the Lord of Winterfell, it was his duty to ensure the well-being of his people. With a great sigh and a creaking of bones he lent forward to continue working through the endless paperwork that came with his position.

He eyed the small pile of missives speculatively. Thinking back to the strange collection of messages he had received over the last moon or so. The first was from the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, and had left Edwyle scratching his head. How on earth did three nobles get lost so badly they didn't even realise they were north of the wall? Not just any wall, but a great big seven hundred foot ice wall.

Not for the first time, Edwyle wished a raven could carry longer messages. The message from Lord Commander Qorgyle was cryptic and short, and he had yet to receive a follow up message. He had questions. Though it sounded like the Night's Watch might be even more confused than himself. Either way, he was left to wonder the fate of the three lordlings and what further misadventures three such unfortunately foolish lords could get up to in his lands. "Probably Reacher nobles" Edwyle mumbled to himself, rehashing a thought he'd had many times already, "they aren't known to be particularly smart". Regardless, it wasn't anything important enough to consider wasting a raven on a return journey to the Wall, so he was left to wonder.

The next surprising message had come from the Maester to Lord Bolton, who proclaimed happily that the lord had finally acquiesced to his suggestion to open his larders to the people under his care.

Lord Stark had to admit to himself that he never did think Lord Bolton had it in him to be so altruistic. Even more surprising that he apparently emptied his entire larder of his own goodwill. Lord Stark was sceptical of the message, but had heard nothing to contradict it.

Bolton always seemed to be wound tight after all; so maybe the last frost had finally gotten to the lord and wound him up tight enough to snap? It was as likely a reason as any Edwyle could think of. He decided it would be best to steer clear of Lord Bolton for the time being anyway, on the off chance that he had finally lost it; crazy lords tend to be unpredictable at the best of times.

He picked up the next missive in the pile, which came by raven from Lord Corman, one of the his smaller vassals to the East. Whatever Lord Corman had to say, it must be notable to have warranted a raven from such a small house. Particularly as he was expecting letters to arrive via messenger from all his lords near the end of Winter anyway.

Edwyle's dark, usually stony expression rose in surprise as he read through the short missive. Apparently three young merchants had braved the last of the Winter snow to start the season's trade early. They brought with them great loads of fruit, vegetables and meat. Quite an intelligent move for any merchant at this time of year, but according to the message they were very generous with their pricing and quantities, which was unlike any merchant from the South he'd met.

He couldn't help but feel a sense gratitude towards these mysterious merchants who had gone above and beyond to help his people in their time of need. Maybe they were from the north themselves, and had ventured south to alleviate the burdens of Winter on their own people. He could only theorise with such little information.

Nonetheless, this was great news, he had one more Lord and township capable of riding out the last of winter without taxing the backup food stores at Winterfell. This would allow Edwyle to be more generous in the portions dolled out to those lords still in need.

He glanced at the question appended to the end of the message, intended to be passed on to his Maester. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out what would possess Lord Corman to ask whether the beginning of spring was likely to cause tails and legs to grow back like the leaves on trees and the grain in the field. Some things are best left to more learned men. Lord Edwyle was no healer after all.

____________________________________

As the days passed, Edwyle received more ravens from various towns, all in a fairly straight line between Lord Corman and Winterfell. In each case, surprisingly fresh food had been sold at generous prices, along with some much needed steel tools. Edwyle was slightly surprised at the speed of these merchants, and the sheer volume of food they were carrying in a three-man trade caravan, but felt he wasn't getting the full picture from these short raven messages.

He did note that on almost every report they arrived pushing their cart, with a tale of woe about having either lost their horses, had them go lame, or even stolen. The rate at which his grateful vassals were apparently gifting the trio horses only to have them lost again was frankly astonishing. He was quite concerned about their competence to be honest.

"How does one lose so many horses?" he breathed to himself, it was frankly ridiculous.

Edwyle was sure he'd get a good laugh out of it when he shared the tales of horse-related woe with his son Rickard. Though that would have to wait, as Rickard had just set out on a tour of the worst hit houses now that the snow was starting to thaw.

As more days passed, the reports continued to trickle in, each one painting a more vivid picture of the benevolent travelling merchant trio. They were not only skilled merchants but also had a knack for helping the townsfolk with various problems. In one village, they had helped repair a crumbling wall, while in another, they had assisted with the construction of a much-needed well. These were not the typical actions of merchants, and Lord Stark found himself increasingly intrigued by the trio.

As the time of their arrival at Winterfell drew nearer, which was easy to gauge given their apparent straight line route, Lord Edwyle Stark couldn't help but feel a mix of curiosity and apprehension. The North had seen its fair share of outsiders, some with good intentions, others with more nefarious motives. He hoped that these merchants would prove to be genuine allies, if they seemed the right sort he'd look into convincing them to settle their business here in Winter Town. But he knew he must remain cautious and vigilant, for the safety of his people and his family.

____________________________________

Finally, the day arrived when the merchants were expected at Winterfell. Lord Stark stood at the castle gates, flanked by his loyal guards and advisors, waiting to greet the travellers.

He was astonished and frankly a little appalled to see them yet again pushing their wagon by hand. Had they lost their horses... again?! He glanced across at the stables and determined that he'd have a conversation with the stable master later, he couldn't let them buy any of the better horses, it would be such a waste to see good breeding stock lost by possibly the most unreliable horse handlers he's ever likely to meet.

As the small group approached, he couldn't help but notice their light clothing, certainly not suitable for the weather, though they seemed unbothered. Their clothing was also of very fine make, almost that of a nobles, though very plain by comparison. They were a curious trio: a tall, dark-haired man with an air of confidence and mischief about him, a much younger man with bright green eyes and an unusual scar on his forehead, and what must be a younger brother of the second man, as the last of the trio had the same dark birds-nest quality hair and vivid green eyes on a slightly more youthful face. The younger boy was however the strangest of the three, with a big feather sticking out of his hat, which sat, for no discernible reason, on top of another hat.

Lord Stark looked to his castellan, Ser Joss, who knew the drill. The knight stepped forward to act as herald and introduce the two parties. "Ho there travellers!" he called getting their attention. After recovering their breath from pushing such a large trade cart the trio approached, deferential to their greeting party, which seemed only right.

"Welcome to Winterfell," Ser Joss continued once the trio were closer. "Your names if you will?"

The older of the two green eyed young men responded, "Hadrian, and my companions Sirius and Doberic, at your service my lord" the man offered by way of response, gesturing at each in turn. Sirius and Dobby held in chuckles at the human name they'd come-up with for Dobby.

"Well met" Ser Joss added, "we offer you guest rights, be welcome in these walls, and leave any troubles outside." he finished, while waving the servants with bread and salt forward. "and while you partake, may I introduce you to our esteemed Warden of the North, Lord Edwyle Stark." he gestured, and then finished by looking at Lord Stark to guide the conversation from there "My Lord?"

With the appropriate introductions completed, and the trio partaking in bread and salt, Lord Stark nodded and stepped forward to take the lead in this conversation. He was quite curious to learn more about this trio after all.

""Yes, yes, welcome gentlemen. I'm glad you've finally arrived. I've heard much from the Ravens telling of your journey through the North." This seemed to surprise them. Did they not expect him to receive news of noteworthy travellers in his lands?

"I am grateful for the aid you've provided my people. With such generous amounts of well-priced and fresh food stuffs, my people will last the winter thaw well." He nodded to his waiting party before continuing, "we're all naturally eager to hear your stories and learn more about you. You've been quite an interesting cause for gossip in recent weeks." He looked expectantly at the trio.

"Thank you, my lord," Harry replied, with a slight nod of the head, "we're just humble traders, making our way through the North, doing good where we can, as any other might."

That didn't quite ring true in Edwyle's mind. Most traders would keep a much tighter reign on their horses for one, and most would not be so generous with their pricing and wares. They were also suspiciously well dressed for simple traders.

"Though I have been a bit remiss in my introductions. If I may introduce myself fully" Harry gestured to himself, "I am Lord Hadrian Black Peverell. Though I am the lord of a foreign house, of little consequence here in Westeros", Harry introduced himself.

Edwyle's eyes widened slightly at that statement. He knew the Peverell name of course, as any Stark should, but it had been a long time since anyone had claimed that name in the lands of the North. He would have to ask some careful questions on this topic later, he owed it to his House.

Not noticing he had piqued Lord Stark's interest quite so much, Harry continued with the introductions. "My partner here is Lord Sirius Black, of a similarly foreign noble house, and last we have Doberic Black Peverell". Sirius and Dobby each nodded in turn, and Edwyle noted that their names were all passably northern, along with their looks. In-fact, he wondered if the alleged Blacks were in any way related to his mother's house, the Blackwoods.

Nodding at the introduction Edwyle signalled to his escort to start moving back inside the gates. "You're definitely an intriguing lot. Though we should retire inside to properly speak. I also understand you've been given messages for me by several of my vassals." he strode ahead, guiding them to the keep. "I've had Ser Joss arrange lodging for you in the town Inn already, but for now leave your cart with my men, and let us head inside to discuss your purpose in these lands."

The trio exchanged glances, each aware that this introduction marked an interesting step-change in their journey; after all, they'd only been in small towns so-far, whereas this new acquaintance was by far the most powerful man in the North, practically a king in his own right. Certainly one of the most powerful men in all of the seven kingdoms, if their research so far was anything to go by.

A Lord Paramount was not to be trifled with, but as a friendly ally they could open many doors. The exchange seemed to be starting on the right foot, so Harry followed in Lord Stark's footsteps, pleased with this first foray into Medieval politics.

____________________________________

As Harry followed Lord Edwyle Stark and his Maester through Winterfell, he was struck by the sheer scale and majesty of the castle. The ancient stronghold was both a testament to the resilience of the North and a symbol of the power of House Stark, leaving none in doubt over who ruled these lands. It was clearly meant as a statement and a centre of politics, but moreso it was an impenetrable bastion, a last line of defence. And it looked like it could hold against any siege. Especially with the mysterious wards Harry still sensed.

The bustling servants and soldiers went about their tasks as they passed, giving short bows to Lord Edwyle as would be expected.

The castle was a complex network of buildings, connected by enclosed walkways to enable access to all areas even in deep winter. The whole effect of these complexes came together to create a layered fortress, with multiple layers of inner walls before the inner courtyard and training yard.

The training yard buzzed with the sounds of clashing steel and grunts of exertion as soldiers honed their skills in preparation for any future battle.

As they made their way across the courtyard, Harry noticed a ruined tower, standing like a solemn reminder of the harsh realities of this land. Its crumbling stone walls were a testament to the relentless assault of the elements, and a reminder that these were a frugal and practical people.

Despite the huge size of the castle, the Starks were clearly spending only on things that mattered. Harry wouldn't be surprised to hear they held back much of their tax revenue for lean winters. The reputation of the Starks for their stalwart guidance through even the worst winters was well represented in their tavern conversations throughout the many towns they visited.

Upon entering the grand white granite entrance hall, Harry was immediately struck by the large black and white banners that adorned the walls, their direwolf sigils a fierce symbol of the Starks' indomitable spirit. The statues of the ancient kings of the North seemed to watch over the hall with grim expressions, their powerful visages a constant reminder of the Starks' long and storied lineage.

To the right of the entrance hall Harry caught a glimpse of an immense feasting hall, its long tables and benches ready to accommodate the many inhabitants of the castle or noble guests he presumed. He could almost hear the raucous laughter and spirited conversation that would fill the space during a medieval feast.

In-fact he was secretly hoping to be invited to such a feast. None of the minor lords they'd visited so far had the food or coin for such an affair, and it felt like a core medieval tradition he just had to experience.

They continued through the corridors towards Edwyle's Study, or 'Solar' as the Maester had called it.

Finally, they ascended a narrow staircase and entered, a large but warm and welcoming space that seemed to be at the very heart of Winterfell. The Solar was filled with the soft glow of a roaring fire, and its walls were lined with bookshelves containing countless scrolls and tomes. A large wooden desk dominated the centre of the room, covered in maps, letters, and other documents that spoke to the many responsibilities of a Lord Paramount.

As Harry took in the details of the Solar, was somewhat in awe of the weight of history that surrounded him. Here, in the heart of Winterfell, the Starks had ruled the North for thousands of years, ever since his ancestor, Ignotus Peverell had married his daughter, Iolanthe, to the first Stark, Brandon the Builder. The history of this family was the stuff of legend. And now, as a guest in this ancient and storied stronghold of his distant kin, Harry hoped to find a way to contribute to that legacy and help the Starks grow.

Harry imagined he'd find some magics or modern world knowledge that could help them in the short term, and maybe he'd be able to continue that help and guidance in years to come, who knows where his travels would take him. He could certainly see himself coming back here occasionally to help and to visit family, even if they didn't know of the connection.

____________________________________

Leaning back in his chair, Edwyle considered where to begin the conversation, when his thoughts stuttered to a halt as the strange young one with too many hats took the initiative. "You have talking ravens!?" Dobby asked with wide excited eyes. The elder two merchants turned to look at Dobby, then surprisingly turned back to Edwyle with a look of curiosity in their eyes.

Taken off guard by the direction of the conversation Edwyle took a moment to process the question. He supposed he had said something earlier along the lines of ravens bringing him tales of the merchants, but surely the use of ravens was common knowledge. What sort of cave had these merchant lords crawled out from that they had never heard of raven messages? Clearing his throat awkwardly he formed the only response his poor mind could come up with in them moment, "ah, not as such, no".

Dobby's face fell in a way that made Edwyle feel like he had just kicked a small puppy, despite how reasonable he was sure his response had been. "Well if you do see any talking ravens, please let me know." Dobby said, with returning confidence, "I've been keeping an eye out but they seem elusive. If people didn't keep mentioning them in the towns we visited I would think they