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"Welcome to the North, ser," Lord Eddard Stark said by way of introduction, and Lord Wyman Manderly offered a slight greeting in return.
Wyman Manderly, often called "Lord Eel," was so obese he needed to be carried around in a litter. He was the fattest man Cole had ever seen. Despite his appearance, Lord Wyman's expression was kind.
"I'm not unfamiliar with the North, Lord Manderly," Cole said, though White Harbor itself was new to him. He glanced around the port. It was divided into an inner and outer harbor and looked vast enough to hold hundreds of warships.
The folds of fat on Lord Wyman's face squeezed together as he smiled, his eyes narrowing into slits. "I hope you leave with good memories. The North is vast—I've only seen less than half of it myself. I couldn't ride a horse even when I was young, and now some even say I'm 'too fat to ride a grown man's horse.'"
"As your host, I shouldn't leave you standing in the cold wind by the docks. Please, come to my castle. I've already prepared a feast."
When Wyman noticed Lord Eddard's injured foot, he gave up his place in the litter for him.
"It's truly good to have you back, Lord Eddard," Wyman said. "The North badly needs a strong hand right now. These are troubled times."
"Lord Wyman, do you know what has happened at Winterfell?" Lady Catelyn asked anxiously.
Wyman sighed. "I am sorry, my lady. Young Lord Bran and young Lord Rickon have already..." The meaning was clear. No words could describe the heartbreak of losing one's children. Damn Theon Greyjoy. He had burned them alive.
Lady Catelyn fainted upon hearing the news. Lord Eddard's face grew dark, his fists trembling with rage. Cole saw it clearly.
"Lord Wyman, do you remember the oath you swore?" Eddard's voice shook as he spoke.
"I do, my lord," Wyman said. "I was loyal to your father, and I am loyal to you. House Manderly will never forget the vows we made before the gods."
"I order you to summon all your warriors immediately. I am going to Winterfell," Eddard commanded.
Wyman understood his pain but still advised him gently, "Ser Rodrik Cassel and Lord Clay Cerwyn have already gathered men and surrounded Winterfell. Lord Eddard, you should rest a while first."
But it was no use. Eddard Stark's mind was set. In the end, Wyman gathered a hundred men for him. Due to his poor health, Wyman could not go with them himself and instead sent his knights to escort them.
"Ser, aren't you going with them?" Wyman asked as he and Cole watched the Stark family head north.
Cole shook his head. "My task was only to escort them to White Harbor."
Although Lord Wyman was well-informed, the news from the South had traveled slowly. He had only heard scattered rumors about Ser Julius.
"Lord Manderly, may I have the honor of sharing a drink with you?" Cole asked, turning to him.
"Of course, ser. You are the Duke's guest—how could I dare neglect you? Please, come with me to the castle. The feast is ready."
Cole rode alongside him, while Wyman was carried in his litter, borne at the four corners by four strong servants.
"It seems a lot has happened in the North recently," Cole said. "Does Lord Manderly know anything about the Night's Watch?"
Wyman's thick neck shifted slightly as he answered, "I don't know much about what's happening beyond the Wall."
"After the death of King Aegon V, the Wall became almost forgotten," Cole said. "By the way, Lord Manderly, how many ships are there in your harbor?"
Wyman didn't understand why Cole asked but answered casually, "Including merchant ships, there should be hundreds. I usually only know when the treasurer brings me the tax reports."
"I remember the Manderly family's ancestral home was in the Reach, is that right?" Cole asked.
"Yes," Lord Wyman Manderly replied. "The Manderlys once ruled the Mander River Valley for a generation."
Cole recalled a few things. The Mander was the great river spanned by the Bitterbridge. The Lamprey River near the city of Greenhill also flowed into the Mander downstream, and together they emptied into the Sunset Sea.
"How many gold dragons do you think it would cost to hire all the ships in the harbor?" Cole asked again.
Lord Wyman frowned slightly. "What would you want with all the ships in the port?"
"It would be a considerable expense, my lord," he added after a moment.
"Thousands of gold dragons, I would guess," Wyman said. He glanced toward the ships. "I wonder, Ser Cole, are you about to ask me for a favor?"
Wyman Manderly hosted Cole at his newly built castle, the New Castle, also known as the Mermaid Palace. Controlling White Harbor's port made House Manderly one of the wealthier houses of the North.
After a night's rest at the Mermaid Palace, Cole boarded a Myrish ship the next morning and sailed across the Bite. They landed along the shores near the Vale.
"Captain, wait here for a few days," Cole ordered the Myrmen.
"Lord, I hear the Vale is dangerous these days. You should be careful," the captain warned him.
Cole led his men toward the Mountains of the Moon. Once they entered the mountains, they spent their days hunting and roasting their kills. It was a welcome change after the sea voyage.
That evening, they made camp beneath a great rock, with a mountain deer roasting over the fire.
"Ser, that shot today was incredible," one of the men said as they drank. "You hit the deer right between the eyes with a single arrow."
They laughed and talked, unaware that the fire and smoke had drawn unwanted attention. Cole listened quietly as he ate his venison. Suddenly, he stood.
"Silence," he said. "We have visitors."
He turned to the woods and called out, "Come out! There's no need to hide."
A group of a dozen mountain clansmen emerged from the shadows, dressed in roughspun linen and battered armor.
"Protect the lord!" the guards shouted, drawing their swords.
But Cole stepped forward, raising a hand to halt them. "We are not enemies. Sheathing your swords would be more polite."
The guards hesitated, but they obeyed.
Cole faced the mountain men. "Which tribe are you from?"
"We are Black Ears, flatlander," one of them replied. "Hand over your weapons and armor."
Cole drew his sword and tossed it to them.
"Easy, warrior of the Black Ears," Cole said calmly. "We mean you no harm. I know your kinswoman, Qira of Qiqe."
The mountain man picked up the sword, stunned by its quality—it was far sharper than the broken blade he carried.
"I am Cole of the Painted Dog Tribe," Cole said. "There's no need for bloodshed between us. What is your name?"
"I am Daru, son of Baal."
"Well, Daru, son of Baal," Cole said. "I seek the whereabouts of the Painted Dog Tribe or the Burned Men. That sword is yours as payment."
"The words of flatlanders are not to be trusted," Daru said warily. "You bear no burn marks like the Painted Dogs or the Burned Men."
Cole pointed at his men's armor. "Look at the heavy steel we wear, the fine swords we carry. You have no chance against us if it came to a fight."
"But if you lead us safely, I'll give you another set of armor as reward."
Daru fell silent, deep in thought.