House Among Chaotic Kingdoms

Votes for this Turn:

A1 - Infantry - 0

A2 - Reputation - 6

A3 - Magic&Med - 0

A4 - Physical - 12

A5 - Mixed Army - 39

S1 - Wikipedia - 32

S2 - Steam - 20

S3 - Wookiepedia - 5

S4 - World - 0

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Rolls for this Turn:

Personal: Wikipedia

Based on his own legend as a cavalry commander, Sir Caradoc of the Round Table grants two groups 1-2 levels of skills related to the title of “Cavalry Commander,” such as: Equestrianism, Strategy, and Public Speaking.

Reminder: Nothing → Knack → Skilled → Talented → Gifted → Prodigious.

This boost is largely based on his legend as both King Arthur's Cavalry Commander and just about the only member of the Round Table to avoid cheating on their spouse.

Therefore, any nobility of Planetos with a lawfully wedded spouse (nobility & wedded = according to cultural custom) that have not cheated on said spouse (emotionally or carnally) receives one skill bump.

Additionally, since this was an L3, another bump will go to anyone loyal to the cause of Stannis Baratheon, including those who know him under other names such as Azor Ahai.

Note 1: It is entirely possible to receive Both Boosts, as seen in people like Davos Seaworth, the Lord of the Rainwood.

Note 2: This roll may seem minor but will be a persistent boost across the entire planet, with fairly massive long-term implications. (If nothing else, future researchers will be able to factually prove that infidelity results in a person getting dumber…)

Note 3: This roll assumes full customary nobility, so even if someone is indistinguishable from smallfolk, if they are the legitimate 4th born son of a 3rd born son of a 5th born son of a… and so on, even if all it connects back to is a minor house, by Westerosi standards that person is nobility.

As a result, this role can pessimistically be assumed to effect something like 5% of people in Westeros, with the number likely only increasing in Essos, where nobility gets even more flexible. The thing being rewarded is their fidelity, not their wealth or power.

World: Witcher Wiki

Thanks to Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, Regis (show version) has now been retconned into Westeros as a Brother of the Night's Watch.

Like Jerico from Ch74’s World Roll, there is a bit of a stranger/Notice-me-not effect on just how long he’s been in the Night's Watch or how old he is.

He retains the abilities actually shown in the show (not his theoretical maximum powerscaling but definitively superhuman).

But he has no supernatural ability to hide using these abilities and so largely just acts as the Watch’s primary healer, in support of Maester Aemon Targaryen.

Note: The Springlords do support the Night’s Watch, but they aren’t supposed to take both Oaths, and so officially the highest-ranked healer in the Night's Watch is Regis, even if he mostly just deals with the day-to-day stuff between visits by a Springlord. (What he IS the only one for the Wall is Barber, with everyone else being much worse at it, so anyone who wants a good haircut needs to wait until he has time.)

For those familiar with Worm’s PRT Ratings (and for future author reference):

Brute 3 - Regenerates from any (non-magical) damage given enough time.

Changer 3 - Can change his features to look different, to gain things like claws.

Striker/Master 2 - Can put people to sleep with a touch (through clothing/armor).

Mover 1 - Speed equivalent to peak human, with extreme stamina due to regeneration.

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Story:

You knew the cavalry commander was waiting inside Stonehelm.

You'd spent most of the final day deciding that meeting him could wait until morning.

You hadn't expected Yara Greyjoy to walk out through the gate first.

For several seconds, the Mallister eagles around her looked like somebody else's problem.

"Yara, what in seven hells happened?"

She grinned before you finished saying it.

"Wulfric, you finally managed to arrive."

Jon laughed somewhere behind you as he caught up.

Yara ignored him long enough to pull you into a hug that nearly drove your shoulder plate into your chin.

Then she stepped back with both hands still on your arms.

"You're taller than I remember you being."

"So are you, which feels somewhat unfair."

"I was younger last time, idiot."

There wasn't much of an answer to that.

Jon finally reached the two of you.

Yara punched him in the shoulder hard enough to make him step back.

Jon looked offended for perhaps half a heartbeat before hugging her too.

You'd spent enough years wondering about Yara without actually hearing anything about her that you'd expected some strangeness.

The feeling never became strange at all.

She was older, her hair was longer, and a thin scar cut through one eyebrow.

Underneath those changes, she was still Yara.

Then somebody behind her called, "Lady Mallister."

You turned straight back toward Yara.

Yara looked delighted by your expression and folded both arms.

Jon started laughing before you could ask.

"Absolutely not, explain that title first."

"That wasn't even a proper question."

"You were Yara Greyjoy when I left."

"And you missed several interesting developments."

You looked past her toward the Mallister eagle above the men coming through the gate.

Apparently you had missed more than several developments.

Ser Patrek Mallister became easy enough to identify once you knew which man to look at.

He was a little older than Yara, handsome, and just rumpled enough to look comfortable being handsome.

His cloak sat crooked across one shoulder like he'd put it on while walking.

He smiled when he reached Yara.

She smiled back with less enthusiasm.

"This is Patrek, who is somehow my husband."

You turned back toward Yara again.

"That explanation seems lacking…"

"Several terrible decisions and one acceptable one."

Patrek laughed beside her and leaned one elbow against the gatepost.

"I was clearly the acceptable decision."

"That remains very much under review."

"You did voluntarily marry me, eventually."

"I was comparing you against Bear Island."

That explained the marriage about as well as anything Yara had said.

A much older man reached them before you could start asking.

Lord Jason Mallister carried age better than most commanders you'd met during the war.

His hair had gone mostly gray, but he still stood straight beneath mail and a dark blue cloak.

His face was lined around the eyes and mouth without looking frail.

He stood like he expected people to listen without needing to loom over them.

"Lord Stark, welcome to Stonehelm."

You bowed your head in return.

"Lord Mallister, Joffrey spoke well of you."

His grip was firm and released without ceremony.

"You've had a long road coming here."

"Not long enough to hear about Yara's wedding."

Jason almost smiled before answering you.

"My son has survived the arrangement so far."

Patrek looked wounded while Yara looked pleased.

A blond young man stood half a pace behind Jason with a stiff posture and a Lannister face.

For a moment, you thought he was younger than he was.

Then you remembered Tyrek Lannister was Sansa's age.

Seventeen was barely younger than you.

His clothes were neat enough to look deliberate, and his sword belt sat exactly where training said it should.

Jason followed your attention and gestured toward him.

"My squire, Tyrek Lannister of Casterly Rock."

Tyrek bowed with careful formality.

"Lord Stark, it's an honor meeting you."

You returned the bow.

The tightness around his eyes eased slightly.

Stonehelm had enough rooms for a proper meeting, which still felt extravagant after the roads south.

You spent the first hour putting names against positions around a long scarred table.

Jason already knew enough of them to avoid embarrassing himself.

He still told you plenty by who received his attention first.

Sam got every courtesy his rank required, that wasn't the same thing as respect.

Jason listened to Colonel Tarly like an older lord examining a promotion he hadn't personally approved.

Yara hid the same first impression, worse.

Patrek hardly hid it at all.

Sam's robe had picked up ink along one cuff, and his hair looked like he'd pushed both hands through it while reading.

Nothing about him helped if someone expected a Colonel to look impressive from across a room.

Neither Yara nor Patrek was rude enough to make anything of it.

Alyn Darry caused no such problem.

Jason knew the name before Alyn finished introducing himself.

Alyn had the sword, the posture, the Ser, and the look of a perfectly respectable Riverlands officer.

Jason understood him immediately.

Major Ser Gerren Holt reached the same result by a different path.

Gray beard, scarred hands, mismatched armor, and the stillness of someone who'd spent decades making steel useful.

Jason's shoulders eased a little with both men.

Captain Hugh received respect too, although not quite the same kind.

Jason treated Hugh as an able subordinate rather than another senior officer whose judgment he might seek.

You saw it when Hugh spoke and Jason's eyes moved back toward Alyn.

You knew that mistake because you'd made your own version.

Sam had once looked much less important beside Garlan Tyrell.

Garlan had looked exactly like the important commander should look.

Sam had looked like the clever man beside him who remembered where Garlan left his papers.

That impression had survived until Sam began doing things.

You considered warning Jason before deciding against it.

Sam had corrected your opinion without any help.

He could correct Jason's the same way.

Besides, warning Jason would ruin most of the entertainment.

Yara waited until supper before giving you the explanation she'd avoided at the gate.

Calling it an explanation remained generous.

She skipped years whenever they bored her and spent much longer on whichever parts she found funny.

The four of you had ended up near one corner of the hall where everyone else's noise covered most of the conversation.

"Uncle Rodrik was the same as he ever was… always in his books.”

“But the books must’ve been worth something since things on the islands had been getting better."

“Not fast, but you could tell, people were better off than they were when I was a girl.”

You nodded..

"Then Euron came back and ruined everything."

Yara shook her head at once and rolled her cup between both hands.

"You might have heard that he came back."

She took another drink before continuing.

"You didn't hear how much worse he'd gotten."

Jon had joined you by then.

Patrek was there too, mostly drinking and letting Yara tell her own story.

"Euron was crazy, he would rant and rave.

“He would switch types of crazy with no warning…”

“He killed Uncle Rodric as a trator to the old way then started talking about his plan to sell me to the Night King as a concubine."

You stopped eating.

Patrek kept drinking, you assumed he'd heard this part before.

"Why would even Euron threaten that?"

Yara shrugged one shoulder and stared down into her cup.

"He’s crazy."

"That still isn't remotely a reason."

"It's the closest thing I have."

Yara took another drink before continuing.

"I think he meant to sacrifice me, like the stories of those Red Priests."

Given everything you'd heard about Euron so far, that interpretation sounded reasonable.

Then Yara shrugged again, more dismissively this time.

"After making the threat, he sailed away."

Jon frowned hard enough to show teeth.

"He threatened that, then simply left?"

"With most of the Iron Fleet."

Yara smiled into her cup.

"Turns out the old graybeards were much better jailers."

You stared at her across the table.

"They actually treated you better?"

"They behaved like I was a valuable hostage instead of an ingredient."

Patrek finally joined the conversation.

"My family managed to improve upon that standard."

"The bar was buried underground already."

"Improvement still counts as improvement."

Yara elbowed him without much force.

Patrek rocked sideways and kept smiling.

"Then somebody decided Bear Island sounded appropriate."

You looked toward Jon.

Jon looked back with the same confusion.

Neither of you understood why this explained anything.

"I wasn't going anywhere near Bear Island."

Yara said it with complete certainty.

"What exactly did you think they'd do?"

"Sell me to the wildlings, obviously."

Jon covered most of his face.

"Yara, absolutely nobody said that."

"Or throw me overboard halfway there."

"That is somehow even less likely."

"So I chose Seagard instead."

Patrek looked toward you and lifted his cup.

"Seagard is always the sensible option."

Yara pointed at him with one finger.

"That sentence explains our entire marriage."

Patrek raised his cup a little higher.

"A stirring foundation for House Mallister."

Yara rolled her eyes and drank instead.

That explained the marriage well enough.

They were comfortable beside one another and could make each other laugh.

Neither showed any great need to stay close to the other.

Patrek wandered off twice during supper, and Yara never bothered watching where he went.

You'd seen stranger noble marriages by then.

The next morning brought problems you actually needed to solve.

The Rainwood occupied just about every part of the peninsula.

Jason stood opposite you with Patrek nearby.

Sam had three stacks of notes while Alyn had one page.

Tyrek stood behind Jason with another packet tucked beneath one arm.

"The good news is that they succeeded."

Jason tapped the northern Stormlands with one blunt finger.

"The bad news is that they succeeded."

You looked toward Sam.

"The garrisons are eating everyone?"

"Exactly what they're doing to us."

Sam moved several markers across the map without checking his notes.

"They retook more territory than the remaining force can hold while continuing forward."

Tygett Lannister had gone toward Storm's End.

Mace Tyrell's fleet was operating around the coast.

The remaining landward strength there was concentrating around Storm's End.

They could not hold every recovered castle, support Storm's End, and clear the Rainwood at once.

That left the Rainwood to you.

At least everybody now knew which impossible task belonged to them.

"Crow's Nest continues holding for us."

Jason pointed farther north.

"Ser Harries Basin-Lannister has the castle."

Another marker sat near the Mistwood Hills.

"Ser Cron Clegane has been ranging through this area."

You looked at the name longer than necessary.

Alyn noticed because Alyn usually noticed.

"Something wrong with the northern force?"

"Nothing the reports actually mention."

You looked at the marker again.

"Unfortunately, it still says Clegane."

Gregor Clegane had managed to become infamous in places he'd never seen.

Sandor had then visited Winterfell and given you no reason to improve the family average.

"The reports on Ser Cron are good."

Jason kept his tone neutral and watched you over the map.

"I've read the same reports."

"And you don't believe them?"

"I believe every word they've written."

Alyn kept looking at you until you sighed.

"I simply don't enjoy believing them yet."

Sam turned one page without looking up.

"You noticed that yourself, which is progress."

"I know neither brother proves anything."

"Then you're being fairer than usual."

You tapped Cron's marker once.

"I still dislike seeing the name."

Sam finally looked up from his notes.

"You only have to trust the reports."

That was annoyingly reasonable.

You disliked Sam most when he made being reasonable sound effortless.

Fortunately, the map gave you something else to dislike.

The problem with reinforcing Crow's Nest became obvious once Jason made you trace the route properly.

Going north around the Rainwood meant weeks on bad Stormlands roads.

Going directly through meant crossing country where even the locals couldn’t justify using the word road.

"How long with the full Army Group?"

You asked Sam while following the northern route.

"Roughly two months if nothing unusual goes wrong."

Sam said it while already turning toward another page.

You stared at him.

"Something always goes wrong on campaign."

"Then it takes more than two months."

"That answer is much worse, Sam."

Sam tapped Fawnton instead.

"This route is not nearly as bad."

Fawnton sat much closer.

More importantly, the useful road divided there.

Take Fawnton first, and the Army Group could establish itself properly.

Then a lighter force could head north without dragging the entire command through the middle of nowhere.

Jason nodded once after studying both routes.

"That is my recommendation as well."

Alyn looked over the same two lines.

"Mine too, unless Crow's Nest starts failing."

You traced the northern route one final time.

"Basin-Lannister and… and Sir Cron hold without us for now."

Nobody around the table objected.

Then Jason moved another marker near the coast.

Raven Isle was a problem.

"Davos Seaworth commands the Rainwood forces."

You knew the name.

Everyone with an interest in the war knew the name.

Smuggler, knight, lord, Stannis Baratheon's man.

His history was the part you disliked.

You had spent years proving that listening to common men was cheaper than burying them.

You had Sergeants who knew things Captains didn't.

You had Captains who'd begun the war carrying spears behind nobler men.

Half the strength of your Infantry came from refusing to pretend competence disappeared below a certain bloodline.

Davos Seaworth had started as a Kings Landing smallfolk.

That made him a much worse first opponent than some ancient lord who considered common-born officers an insult against nature.

He was unlikely to throw useful men away merely because their fathers lacked land.

You leaned both hands against the table.

"He'll use everyone he has properly."

Sam looked across the table at you.

"Because he was common-born himself?"

"That, and Stannis kept promoting him."

You tapped Davos's marker.

"He has no reason to think useful men need famous grandfathers."

Jason nodded slowly after considering it.

"I would expect much the same."

"So my clever trick is normal now."

Sam looked unimpressed by the complaint.

"Listening to competent people was never a clever trick."

"It worked often enough to feel clever."

"It still works when Davos does it too."

You knew that perfectly well.

It did not make Davos's extra decades of experience any less annoying.

Then Jason glanced back over one shoulder.

"Tell them what your father's men found."

Tyrek straightened almost at once.

He'd spent most of the meeting standing like a squire.

Now somebody had given him something useful to contribute.

He stepped closer to the table before speaking.

"We first believed it was sorcery."

His voice sounded younger than Jason's but stayed steady.

"Then we recovered broken pieces after a skirmish near the northern road."

You leaned closer across the table.

"The weapon is extraordinarily loud."

"How loud are we actually talking?"

"Men have mistaken it for thunder."

Tyrek paused before adding the comparison somebody had clearly repeated several times.

"One man said it sounded like a tree splitting beside his head."

Tyrek ignored him with impressive discipline.

"It throws a very small stone or piece of metal."

"Throws it?"

"We don't know the mechanism yet."

He set a wrapped piece of metal on the table with both hands.

It had once been part of a tube.

Inside, shallow grooves twisted through the metal.

"They destroy intact weapons before abandoning them."

Tyrek turned the fragment toward you.

"This is the largest section my father recovered."

You ran one thumb lightly along the edge.

"Do those grooves matter somehow?"

"Nobody has managed to find out."

Tyrek's mouth tightened while he looked back toward the fragment.

Alyn leaned closer over the table.

"What have they actually established?"

Tyrek counted the useful points carefully.

"The projectile moves far faster than sling ammunition."

"It carries much farther than expected."

"It can punch through armor on a direct hit."

"They don't appear to possess many weapons."

"The ammunition seems limited as well."

Sam stopped writing and looked up.

"How limited do the reports make it?"

"We can't put a reliable number on it."

Tyrek's jaw tightened slightly before he continued.

"My father believed every shot mattered."

"He saw units refuse poor targets."

"And when they had to retreat?"

"They destroyed the weapons themselves."

Sam looked toward Jason across the table.

"So either expensive or difficult to replace."

Jason nodded once.

"Quite possibly both problems at once."

You looked at Tyrek again.

Seventeen was not scandalously old for a squire.

It was old enough that a Lannister was likely already fielding questions about why he wasn’t a knight yet.

Tygett Lannister did not sound like a father who made failure comfortable.

"You explained all of that well, Tyrek."

He blinked once before nodding back.

"Thank you, Lord Stark."

His shoulders eased slightly after he said it.

The explanation hadn't made the weapons less dangerous.

It had made the danger specific enough to think about.

In your head, it became a very fast sling with enormous range, armor penetration, terrible noise, limited numbers, and an unknown mechanism.

The rest of the council mapped what stood behind those weapons.

Fawnton held the first meaningful southern garrison.

Ganderman served the same role farther north.

Raven Isle remained Davos's strongest position.

Patrols moved outward from all three.

The sea offered slightly better news.

Stannis's main fleet had other problems.

Mace Tyrell had enough ships nearby that ordinary reinforcement was dangerous.

Smugglers still moved through the area.

Nothing about Davos Seaworth encouraged you to believe smugglers vanished because a navy was nearby.

At least every destroyed weapon should hurt more while the coast remained difficult to supply.

The next several days turned Stonehelm into somewhere useful to make mistakes.

The first field exercise went badly enough to justify having one.

Two Infantry groups reached the same rendezvous by different routes.

One arrived early.

The other somehow approached from the wrong direction.

Jason's messenger found both before sunset.

Sam discovered one supply section had been attached to neither group.

Jon discovered the guards assigned to Alyn had followed the wrong company because somebody assumed Colonel meant Sam.

Nobody died, which made Stonehelm the right place to fail.

You did it again the next morning.

The second attempt improved enough to expose different mistakes.

By the third attempt, almost nothing interesting happened.

That was exactly what you wanted.

The Rainwood would not let one enormous column remain useful for long.

You needed companies capable of moving without seeing one another.

You needed messengers who knew which officer owned which problem.

You needed supplies following several bodies instead of one road-bound snake.

Alyn handled how the Infantry divided.

Sam worried about everything those divisions needed to eat.

Jason started converting cavalry into messengers and scouts before anyone reached the trees.

Jon reorganized guards around officers who would not always share one camp.

Tulin determined how far the archers could split while staying functional.

You mostly found places where somebody's solution broke somebody else's.

Jason adapted faster than you'd expected.

He never complained that Cavalry and Scouts involved less cavalry than the title suggested.

He simply asked where horses remained useful.

"Roads, whenever the Rainwood admits those exist."

"Mounted messengers should still function."

"Mostly, until the ground eats them."

"Scouting where the trees allow horses."

Jason rubbed his jaw and stared down at the map.

"So I command overly expensive pedestrians."

Patrek smiled across the table.

"No different than managing the ships, eh’ father?"

Jason ignored him with a clear force of will.

Patrek looked delighted anyway.

That particular skill had probably received years of practice.

Patrek was easier around ordinary soldiers than his father.

That became obvious during training.

He knew several Seagard men by name.

He borrowed a spear from one without making the man look ready to faint.

He joked with two archers while returning it and listened when one corrected his grip.

Jason was never rude to common soldiers.

He simply expected birth and rank to matter more than your army was used to.

You expected the Rainwood to test that quickly enough.

Sam bothered Jason for a different reason.

Jason checked Sam's first supply recommendation twice.

The second time, Sam noticed him doing it.

"You can simply ask if you think I'm wrong."

Jason glanced up from the figures.

"I am checking the numbers."

"I know exactly what you're doing."

Sam's voice stayed polite enough to make the complaint sharper.

You covered your face with one hand.

Yara laughed from the edge of the table.

Jason eventually asked the actual question.

Sam answered it.

Jason still checked the arithmetic himself.

You remembered Garlan looking magnificent while Sam stood beside him like the man responsible for remembering everybody's papers.

You decided Sam could win this argument by existing for another week.

Harl taught you about Jon's latest idea by hitting you.

The blow landed against Hart Weard during what had been a perfectly ordinary training bout.

You expected force.

You did not expect your whole left arm to go numb.

You took one step backward before Harl immediately stopped.

Harl's grin vanished when he saw you move.

"Since when do you hit that hard?"

Harl lowered his practice sword slightly.

"Since Jon started correcting how we breathe."

Jon started laughing from across the yard.

You turned toward him instead.

Harl made the mistake of following your eyes.

"Apparently it works better than expected."

You turned back toward Harl.

"Jon taught you to hit harder by breathing."

"When you say it like that, it sounds stupid."

"It sounded stupid before I repeated it."

Jon finally walked over with his own practice sword balanced across one shoulder.

"Do the same strike again, Harl."

Harl raised his sword.

You brought Hart Weard up.

This time you watched his chest instead.

Inhale, set, hold, then movement.

Harl's hips moved before his shoulders followed.

The blade came down against Hart Weard.

You caught it again without giving ground.

It was still harder than Harl normally hit.

Jon nodded proudly.

"That one was cleaner than before."

"You've been teaching the guards to breathe."

"They already did that without my help."

"Apparently not well enough for you."

"Not nearly well enough for this."

That earned Jon several looks from the guards nearby.

One man shook his head while another grinned.

Jon ignored all of them.

You spent the rest of the afternoon finding out what he meant.

The sword movements themselves were not entirely strange.

The timing was the part Jon kept changing.

Breath came before effort, then the body tightened around the movement and released.

Recovery mattered almost as much as the strike itself.

You recognized pieces because heavy armor had taught you years ago that wasting breath was an excellent way to become useless.

Long bouts had taught the same lesson.

Jon had made the process deliberate.

You tried it yourself.

Nothing miraculous happened when you tried.

Jon watched one attempt and frowned.

"Again, because that one barely counted."

"I followed every instruction you gave me."

"You breathed out at the wrong time."

He adjusted your stance with both hands.

"You keep spending the breath before the movement."

"I need breath before I can move."

"That is technically true and entirely unhelpful."

You tried it again mostly to stop him talking.

It worked slightly better on the second attempt.

That was almost more irritating than failure.

Harl had a feel for the method you did not.

Jon was much better than Harl.

You had enough experience to understand why pieces worked without making your body cooperate immediately.

The guards kept practicing after you stopped.

You noticed Jon correcting one man by name.

Then another guard argued with him about the timing.

Jon argued back until the man tried it again.

Nobody around him looked particularly intimidated by their Captain.

Jon had spent most of his life being good at things beside you or Robb.

Commanding men who weren't his brothers was becoming something different.

Later, once most of them had gone, Jon stayed beside the rack putting practice blades away.

"Wulfric, can you look at something?"

His tone changed enough that you stopped moving.

"What exactly am I checking this time?"

Jon sat against the low wall.

"I don't know what it is yet."

Jon held out one hand toward you.

You took it and reached the way Berenice had taught you.

The familiar body came first.

Warmth, breath, pulse, then something deeper.

You'd felt that deeper thing before.

Something sat inside Jon like banked heat.

It wasn't illness, and it wasn't corruption.

It wasn't anything you knew how to name.

It was much stronger now than before.

You opened your eyes again.

Jon was already watching your face.

"There is definitely more of it now."

His face tightened at once.

"So your healing did change something."

"No, that isn't what I said."

"You healed me, and now this is stronger."

You reached again because arguing before checking twice was stupid.

The answer remained the same when you checked.

"I didn't put this inside you."

Jon's expression hardened immediately.

"How can you know that?"

"Because I felt it before Yronwood."

That stopped Jon from answering at once.

His fingers went still inside your hand.

You remembered the fever, the blood, and the endless hours searching through his body for anything you could fight.

"This was already part of you."

You released his hand slowly.

"It was helping you, back at Yronwood.”

“Not curing, but… withstanding the corruption far longer than a normal man’s blood would have.

He turned away from you, looking toward the empty yard.

He'd never liked talking about fire.

You knew enough about why.

Targaryen blood made people stupid without actual magic, making the subject worse.

"Has it been useful at least?"

"I've been harder to tire lately."

"Since you woke after Yronwood?"

"Since that, yes."

"And the fire connection got stronger too?"

His jaw tightened before he answered.

"It has definitely become stronger too."

You waited for anything else.

Jon kept looking across the yard.

He rubbed one thumb against his palm without seeming to notice.

He did not explain what he intended to do about it.

He also no longer looked prepared to pretend the whole subject did not exist.

For Jon, that counted as a decision.

You let the silence stay where it was.

The Rainwood provided enough new problems without helping Jon invent more.

You entered it under light rain.

By supper, the rain had become heavy.

By morning, it was light again.

Then it became heavy before breakfast finished.

On the third day, you asked Owen Storm when the road usually dried.

Owen looked at you like you'd asked when the trees migrated.

Water ran from the edge of his hood while he thought about it.

"Dry during which part of the year?"

"I meant the road itself, Owen."

He considered that for several seconds.

"Summer is usually the closest thing."

That was a truly awful answer.

The Rainwood did not possess roads in the same sense the rest of Westeros used the word.

It possessed arguments about where roads ought to be.

Stone gave way to dirt, then mud, then roots hiding under mud.

Wagons slowed.

Horses slipped.

Men in plate became grateful for every rune which made armor lighter.

The runes themselves had started changing too.

At first, useful marks stayed on obvious things like armor, weapons, and shields.

Then somebody marked a supply chest.

After that came a cart axle.

Lately, men were discussing which marks helped awkward loads without treating the conversation as unusual.

Nobody knew all the rules yet.

Some repeated marks worked better than expected.

Some combinations did nothing useful at all.

A few combinations appeared to interfere with each other.

The change happened before anyone bothered naming it.

Soldiers had stopped asking whether the marks were useful.

Now they argued about where to put them.

The first flying mushroom delayed a scout patrol for fifteen minutes.

You assumed you had misunderstood the report.

The scout assured you that you had not.

"It looked exactly like a mushroom with wings."

You stared at him across the camp.

"How large was this flying mushroom?"

The scout held both hands apart.

"About this large, my lord."

He looked more embarrassed the longer the explanation continued.

You looked toward Jason.

Jason looked toward Owen.

Owen somehow looked offended on behalf of the entire Rainwood.

"They're around sometimes in these woods."

"You've seen these before?"

"Enough that they're mostly annoying."

"Do they bite people?"

"Sometimes, if somebody bothers them first."

"Are they poisonous or otherwise dangerous?"

"Not that I've ever seen myself."

You looked back toward the scout.

"Then why did this require my attention?"

The scout's ears went slightly red.

"It landed on Sergeant Pate's helmet and refused to leave."

You closed your eyes for a moment.

"Anything else worth commanding an army about?"

"No, my lord, nothing else happened."

"Then chase the flying mushrooms yourselves."

The flying mushrooms became ordinary much faster than they deserved.

The huge butterfly-moth-thing did not manage the same trick.

Tulin saw that one first.

Then half his archers saw it.

By the time you arrived, the creature had already drifted back beyond the trees.

"How large are we actually talking?"

You asked while peering after it.

Tulin pointed toward Hobb Flowers.

"Roughly around his size, with the wings."

Hobb looked immediately offended.

"It was not remotely that large."

"It had very large wings, Hobb."

"That is different from being my size."

Bright colors flashed between branches farther away.

Several soldiers followed until Tulin shouted them back.

By evening, somebody had left fruit near the edge of camp.

You found Hugh standing nearby and made the obvious mistake of asking him.

"You know leaving fruit can attract anything."

Hugh looked toward the little pile.

"I didn't put any of that there."

"Then who actually did?"

"Every man I've asked blames someone else."

You considered ordering it removed.

Then you imagined explaining why the Army Group commander had become personally responsible for butterfly fruit.

You left the fruit where it was.

The creature returned two days later.

Possibly it was the same creature, because nobody had managed to prove otherwise.

The repeated sightings earned it a place in the Green Study records.

The Green itself took longer to notice because the Rainwood already grew plants on top of other plants.

Long Lake could become lush in summer.

The Rainwood made Long Lake look restrained.

Vines climbed trees already surrounded by ferns.

Moss claimed every surface which stopped moving long enough.

Your usual effect vanished inside all of it.

Sam still found the pattern anyway.

He arrived at supper carrying a basket of berries and wearing his problem-solving expression.

"Eat one of these for me."

You looked at the basket instead of him.

"Why would I do that, exactly?"

"Because I need another comparison."

"Are these berries poisonous somehow?"

"No, obviously they aren’t poisonous."

You kept staring at Sam anyway.

"Then why did you make that sound dangerous?"

"Because you were about to ask questions."

"I am still asking questions, Sam."

Sam pushed the basket closer.

"Eat the berry first, Wulfric."

You ate one mostly to speed things along.

It tasted completely ordinary.

Sam sat across from you and unfolded one of his pages.

"Men foraging around your column are bringing back massively more than what the northern groups find."

"Maybe we have better foragers here."

"We don't have better foragers."

"Better ground around this column, then?"

"Also no, we checked that already."

You looked down at the basket again.

Then you looked back toward Sam.

"Oh, hell, it's following me again."

Sam smiled immediately at that.

Alyn joined the problem the following day.

Then two Green Study men joined Alyn.

Berenice complained after somebody carried wet plant samples through the medical wagons.

They started measuring instead of arguing.

Near you, abundance increased.

Farther away, the Rainwood became merely excessive.

After the Army Group moved, the old campsite slowly lost the additional growth.

Nothing became barren behind you.

Nothing withered after you moved away.

Sam found this wonderful.

"You understand this is food."

"I have successfully identified berries, Sam."

"No, this is food we don't carry."

"You still need grain."

"Obviously we still need the grain."

"Meat still exists as a requirement."

"Yes, Wulfric, meat remains necessary."

"Fodder does not become optional either."

Sam held both hands up.

"I'm not firing the wagon train."

"Good, because that would be stupid."

"I'm saying this materially helps us."

On that point, Sam was plainly right.

Omek confirmed the other half several days later.

"The men are much happier than expected."

You looked around the camp before answering.

Rain fell from at least three directions.

Someone had lost a boot in the mud near the cookfires.

Two wagons had spent an hour moving fifty paces.

"They have absolutely no excuse for happiness."

Omek smiled like this proved his point.

"They're eating well every single day."

"They're also permanently wet every day."

"They're eating well while permanently wet."

A group of soldiers walked past sharing berries from somebody's helmet.

One had purple juice running down his fingers while he laughed.

Omek nodded after them.

"Fresh fruit every day helps more than you'd think."

The men had started talking about blessings again.

Nobody needed to tell you because people forgot how far voices carried around command tents.

Lord Stark had healed Jon Snow.

Lord Stark's camps always had fresh food.

Lord Stark's gods clearly liked plants.

When one Stormlander suggested the Seven might also deserve credit, nobody argued.

You had spent years assuming southern reactions to your magic needed constant management.

The Rainwood army mostly wanted more berries.

That told you more than another theological argument would have.

Jason took longer to learn Hugh than he took to learn Sam.

Sam forced the issue by being everywhere.

A wagon route failed and Sam already had another.

Jason proposed sending a scout company farther east.

Sam asked what they intended to eat on the return.

Jason stared across the map.

"The supplies already in their packs."

"They're carrying four days right now."

Jason checked the schedule.

Then he shortened the route without arguing.

The next time, Jason asked Sam before proposing the distance.

Yara noticed Sam's usefulness too.

The first week, Sam started explaining a supply problem, and Jason looked toward Alyn.

The third week, she moved closer when Sam began talking.

Patrek changed more slowly.

He mostly stopped interrupting Sam when logistics came up.

For Patrek, that was real improvement.

Hugh's moment came after a path narrowed ahead of one Infantry section.

Jason wanted the second company moved forward before dark.

Hugh shook his head immediately.

"They won't fit through there today."

Jason looked instinctively toward Alyn.

Alyn looked at Hugh instead.

"Hugh knows those companies better here."

Hugh crouched beside the map and pointed to the bend where the trail narrowed.

He explained where the bottleneck would form.

Alyn listened without correcting anything.

Jason listened too.

The company stayed where Hugh wanted it.

Two days later, Jason encountered another route problem.

This time he asked Hugh first.

Nobody stopped to remark on the change.

The Ravens River finally provided everyone a problem large enough to share.

You saw the bridge and briefly felt hopeful.

Then Merren of Maidenpool reached you already looking angry.

His boots were wet past the ankle, and one sleeve was rolled above the elbow.

"Don't put the army on that bridge."

You stopped beside him.

"I hadn't actually ordered that yet."

"You were looking at it hopefully."

That was fair.

Merren already had men beneath the bridge checking supports.

Others were working along the bank.

Several more had rope stretched between trees.

You realized he'd started before you arrived.

"How bad is the bridge?"

"Men can cross without much trouble."

"Horses can cross too, I assume?"

"Carefully, if they're spaced properly."

"And what about the wagons?"

"Some of the lighter ones can cross."

"All the heavy wagons?"

"Not unless you want a collapse."

Sam reached you from behind with mud halfway up both boots.

"That is still workable for us."

You looked over one shoulder.

"How is losing half the bridge workable?"

"Because only some things require it."

Merren nodded toward the riverbank.

"We're already building several rafts."

Of course Merren was already doing that.

His father had been a ferryman.

You had moved him into transport and crossings because he kept solving transport and crossings.

You had somehow still expected the river to wait for you personally before becoming Merren's responsibility.

The bridge crews spent the first day reinforcing supports.

Merren spent the same day cutting timber.

The runes followed without anybody needing to suggest them.

You watched one soldier carve a weight mark into a log.

Then another soldier marked the next.

Another mark appeared farther down the line.

"Every major log gets one?"

The soldier looked up at you with wood shavings caught in his beard.

"Works better that way, my lord."

That was not quite the question you meant.

You crouched beside him near the timber.

"You've tested repeating them across the raft?"

"Better than putting several on one timber."

Another soldier joined the conversation.

"Three marks on one piece don't help much."

"But one on each works better."

"Who worked that out?"

They looked at each other for several seconds.

"We've mostly been testing it ourselves."

That answer was becoming increasingly common lately.

By the second day, adding runes was simply another part of building the rafts.

Cut timber, shape it, carve it, lash everything together, check the ropes, then launch.

Merren organized the crossings.

Sam reorganized the army around them.

Jason separated horse traffic from everything likely to panic horses.

Alyn fed Infantry through the bridge in controlled numbers.

You spent most of three days making sure one solution did not ruin another officer's work.

The whole ugly arrangement actually functioned.

It functioned slowly, because everything in the Rainwood worked slowly.

The last heavy wagon reached the far bank near sunset on the fourth day.

You stood beside Merren watching men pull a raft back upstream.

The river had turned brown around all the churned mud.

"We are never doing that again."

Merren looked at you.

"This particular river, my lord?"

"Any river if I have authority."

He laughed hard enough to annoy you.

"Ravens isn't actually considered especially bad."

You turned toward him.

"Explain that sentence immediately, Merren."

Merren nodded toward the map case under your arm.

"This one's one of the smaller rivers."

You unfolded the map.

There were more blue lines ahead.

Several of those lines were much larger.

You hated every one of them equally.

The march after Ravens River became easier mostly because your standards collapsed.

Two miles before noon became acceptable progress.

A wagon needing only one repair counted as good news.

A camp where nobody discovered another flying fungus became excellent.

The enormous butterflies kept appearing around you.

Possibly there was only one, because nobody had managed to prove anything.

The Green Study Group started recording sightings beside the plant observations.

"Why are butterflies in the Green notes?"

You asked Alyn while looking over his shoulder.

He pointed to a column on the page.

"They stay nearer your section consistently."

"Maybe they simply like people nearby."

"Then why aren't they following Jason's scouts?"

You looked toward one distant flash of color.

A soldier had left fruit near the trees again.

"Maybe they prefer stupid people."

Alyn started writing something immediately.

"Do not put that into the records."

His quill kept moving across the page.

"I'm recording the observation, not your theory."

Jon's guards kept practicing their breathing.

You joined whenever time allowed.

Harl remained better at the new method.

That remained deeply irritating.

Jon enjoyed your irritation more than necessary.

The army's command settled while the forest remained difficult.

Jason stopped feeling newly attached to the Army Group.

Sam remained offensively competent.

Alyn stopped bringing you Infantry problems unless he actually wanted your answer.

Gerren coordinated Captains who would have been unbearable without somebody older and knighted repeating what Hugh already knew.

The Rainwood itself remained the constant problem.

Davos stayed somewhere ahead.

Reports from patrols did not improve your opinion of the campaign.

Enemy units withdrew rather than taking poor fights.

Scouts changed routes after being observed.

Small detachments used the forest properly.

Useful men appeared to stay useful regardless of birth.

Exactly what you had expected from Davos.

You complained to Sam over supper.

"My best advantage is gone."

Sam looked up from his food.

"Which advantage are you complaining about?"

"Actually listening to people."

Sam stared at you across the bowl.

"You still possess that talent."

"So does Davos."

"That doesn't make our officers less useful."

You knew that perfectly well.

It did not make the comparison less annoying.

"Davos has decades more experience."

"Yes, Davos has considerably more experience."

"He knows this sort of fighting better."

"Almost certainly better than either of us."

"He also has those new weapons."

Sam ate another berry.

"You also have all these berries."

You looked at him.

Sam kept chewing without smiling.

"I meant that completely seriously, Wulfric."

"You are feeding several thousand men fresh food every day without carrying it."

Sam took another berry from the bowl.

"I would kill for this ability."

"You should stop saying that near Septons."

Sam ignored that warning and kept eating.

Unfortunately, Sam was right about the logistics.

Omek kept reporting that morale was high.

The Green Study Group kept proving the abundance moved with you.

Southerners kept failing to panic about any of it.

At some point, you stopped treating the Green like an awkward thing that happened near you.

It was helping the army, which made it part of the army's situation.

You still did not understand how to command it.

You didn't know why the effect worked.

You knew the men ate better.

You knew they complained less.

You knew Sam looked delighted whenever the forage totals came in.

For now, those facts were enough to plan around.

The first slingshot came near the end of the month.

You never heard the shot yourself.

The scout company did.

They returned shortly before dusk.

Jason reached you before the body arrived.

His face had gone hard in a way you hadn't seen before.

"One of the Lieutenants is dead."

You stood before he finished speaking.

"Was it some kind of ambush?"

"One shot, then nothing else."

That got everyone moving faster.

The dead Lieutenant came back draped across a horse.

He was related to the Umbers.

Close enough to have a name people recognized.

Far enough that you had never known him personally.

The helmet mattered more than the kinship.

It was boiled leather, not excellent armor, but still enough to matter against plenty of blows and arrows.

There was a hole straight through it.

You studied where the projectile entered first.

Then you studied the place where it had left.

The edges were smaller and cleaner than you'd expected.

"What exactly happened out there?"

The scout Sergeant stood before Jason.

Mud covered him to the knee, and one hand still shook slightly.

"One crack like thunder, m’lord."

"Which direction did it come from?"

"Not sure, m’lord."

"Did anyone see whoever fired it?"

"No, m’lord, no one saw."

"Was there a second shot afterward?"

"No, m’lord."

Jason looked toward the body again.

"Can you estimate the distance?"

The Sergeant shook his head slowly.

"We never saw anyone to estimate from, m’lord."

That was worse than a bad estimate.

The company had been observing patrol movement outside Fawnton.

They had not wandered into an obvious ambush.

They had not been surrounded.

There had been one sound, one dead Lieutenant, and then nothing.

The scouts recovered their officer and withdrew exactly as trained.

Nobody had even made an obvious mistake.

You touched the edge of the hole through the helmet.

Tyrek had called the weapon fast, distant, powerful, and armor-piercing.

The corpse supplied a much cleaner scale.

The man had never known which direction to raise a shield.

One shot had killed him cleanly.

The command meeting that night lasted too long and solved very little.

Fawnton should have been easy.

It barely possessed defenses worth mentioning.

Its garrison could not match your Army Group.

Against ordinary weapons, numbers should have settled the problem.

Now Jason wanted scouts working farther outward.

Alyn wanted officers less exposed.

Tulin wanted to know what his archers were supposed to shoot at when nobody could see the shooter.

Sam wanted everyone to stop proposing that several thousand men search every tree between camp and Fawnton.

Jon said very little during the argument.

That worried you more than arguing would have.

"If they can shoot officers without being seen, guards don't solve it."

Everyone looked toward Jon.

He shrugged one shoulder.

"They still stop everything else."

Jason nodded slowly.

"Which remains worth doing regardless."

Alyn tapped one finger against the map.

"Can shields reliably stop one?"

Nobody in the tent knew yet.

Armor apparently did not stop it.

You looked at Hart Weard leaning beside your chair.

The thought stopped there.

You had one corpse and several reports.

That was not enough information to build a plan around your shield.

The meeting ended with more questions than answers.

Outside, six men were sharing berries while arguing over which pair of boots smelled worst.

You stopped beside them.

They noticed you immediately and straightened before one remembered he was holding a helmet full of fruit.

"My lord, do you want some?"

You took several raspberries from the helmet.

"Thank you, I probably need these."

They were sweet.

Rain dripped from the edge of the command tent.

The men looked exhausted but entirely fine.

One had mud dried halfway up his trousers and was still laughing.

That contradiction had followed you for weeks.

Inside the tent, every commander was worried about Davos Seaworth and his impossible sling.

Outside, the army remained wet, slow, and offensively cheerful.

You walked toward your own tent with the berries still in one hand.

Davos had useful common soldiers, and so did you.

Davos had decades of command experience, while you definitely did not.

Davos had strange slings, while you apparently had berries.

Sam had ruined that comparison permanently.

You reached your tent with it still bothering you.

Janus sat along the ridgepole above it.

The raven looked down at you and clicked his beak once.

Then Jinx came from beneath the canvas and shoved her head against your hip.

You stopped with one hand on her ears.

You looked toward the dark Rainwood and then back toward Janus.

Jason had scouts, Jon was one of the best hunters you knew, and Ghost could move through this country.

Jinx could move through it too, while Janus could see everything from above.

You went inside before the thought finished forming.

Jon was still awake.

He looked up from sharpening his sword.

The small lamp beside him caught along the edge of the blade.

"What did you just think of?"

You closed the flap behind yourself.

"How much can Ghost see before people realize he's scouting?"

Jon stopped sharpening at once.

His expression changed immediately.

"Depends what you want him seeing."

"That sounds considerably more promising."

Jon set the sharpening stone down.

"What are you thinking exactly?"

You sat across from him.

"We're treating Jason's scouts like they're the only scouts available."

Jon glanced toward the tent wall.

Then his eyes moved upward.

Janus scratched against the ridgepole.

Jon's mouth twitched.

"Right, those particular scouts too."

You nodded once.

"We still can't have Janus return and build another perfect map."

"I remember."

"Good, because I didn't want that argument again."

Jon leaned back against his seat.

"Ghost can range farther than men can."

"So can Jinx through most of this."

"Janus can watch the roads."

"Patrols, camps, movement, anything obvious."

Jon's expression became more interested with each point.

Then he frowned again.

"And when Jason asks where we learned it?"

That was still the difficult part.

You pulled the map closer across the table.

"We don't give Jason information from magic."

Jon waited without interrupting you.

"We give his scouts better places to look."

Silence lasted for several seconds.

Then Jon smiled.

"If Ghost finds something, I take men near it."

"Then those men confirm enough to report."

"Janus finds routes before they do."

"Or movement we know where to verify."

Jon glanced toward the roof again.

"And what does Jinx contribute?"

You scratched behind her ears.

"Jinx has never respected reasonable limits."

Jon smiled wider at that.

You looked back down at the map.

Fawnton sat less than a day's march away.

Somewhere around it were men carrying weapons that could kill a Lieutenant through his helmet before anyone knew where to raise a shield.

You still did not understand those weapons.

You still did not know how many Davos possessed.

Crow's Nest still needed eventual help.

The Rainwood remained wet enough that dry socks had become a nostalgic memory.

None of those problems had changed.

Your army had changed over the month.

Alyn could split the Infantry and put it back together.

Sam could feed pieces of an army that could not always see one another.

Jason knew how to turn cavalry into scouts when the forest refused to allow cavalry.

Merren crossed rivers before you reached them.

The men carved runes onto rafts because that was the new normal.

The Green followed you through the trees and fed soldiers who had every reason to be miserable.

Jon had guards who listened to him.

Ghost had the woods, and Janus had the sky.

Jinx had whatever Jinx decided belonged to her.

Davos Seaworth was not going to underestimate the people beneath him.

You weren't going to underestimate yours either.

Fawnton could survive without you until tomorrow.

-----

Skills:

Pursuits:

Martial:

(12) Physical Form - 260/400 (+15)

(11) Westerosi Swordsmanship - 200/300 (+5)

(1) Total Concentration Breathing - 25/100 (+25)

(1) Stone Breathing - 25/100 (+25)

(12) Archery - 215/400 (+15) (Gifted)

(13) Heavy Armour - 310/500 (+30) (Prodigious)

Avocations:

(12) Equestrianism - 95/400 (+20) (Talented)

(10) Hunting - 30/200 (+10)

(10) Seacraft - 55/200 (+5) (Knack)

(7) Fishing - 65/100 (+5)

(6) Swimming - 40/100 (+0)

(6) Climbing - 60/100 (+0)

Scholarly:

Applied:

(12) Accounting - 360/400 (+25) (Prodigious)

(7) Northern Law - 90/100 (+5) (Knack)

(7) General Westerosi Law - 90/100 (+10) (Knack)

(9) Castrametation - 70/100 (+40) (Knack)

(4) Poliorcetics - 100/100 (+15)

Contextual:

(10) Mathematics - 55/200 (+15) (Knack)

(11) Northern History - 10/300 (+5) (Knack)

(8) Northern Cultures - 80/100 (+0)

(6) Westerosi History - 65/100 (+0)

(6) Westerosi Cultures - 75/100 (+0)

(3) Rainwood Lore - 100/100 (+300)

(8) Common Literacy - 10/100 (+30)

(6) Valyrian Literacy - 40/100 (+5)

Social:

Public:

(14) Management - 300/500 (+50) (Prodigious)

(9) Stewardship - 70/100 (+25) (Knack)

(12) Strategy - 340/400 (+50) (Prodigious +)

(10) Public Speaking - 100/200 (+30) (Skilled)

Personal:

(12) Interpersonal Communication - 280/400 (+35) (Skilled)

(5) Acting (Lying/Politics) - 90/100 (+0) (Incapacity)

(12) Common Speaking - 30/400 (+50) (Knack)

(11) Old Tongue Speaking - 240/300 (+10) (Knack)

(8) Valyrian Speaking - 35/100 (+5) (Knack)

Magic:

(1) Theory of Magic - 35/100 (+5)

- (1) Potentium: Heartsense + Warging - 50/100 (+10)

(19) Verdancy:

- (11) The Green Aura - 140/300 (+50) (Talented)

- - (3) The Green Touch - 40/100 (+10)

- (6) The Green Knowledge - 50/100 (+30) (Knack)

(37) Potentium:

- (1) Potentium Studies - 90/100 (+0)

- (4) Combat Intuition - 40/100 (+0)

- (2) Clairsentience - 10/100 (+0)

- - (11) Heartsense - 135/200 (+25)

- (7) Warging - 20/100 (+20) (Talented)

- - (4) Warging Theory - 5/100 (+30) (Knack)

- (3) Somatic Insight - 30/100 (+10) (Knack)

- - (6) Force Healing - 35/100 (+5) (Gifted)

- - (6) Healing Trance - 100/100 (+20) (Knack)

(7) Enchanting:

- (7) Westerosi Runes Theory - 50/100 (+50)

- (1) Westerosi Runes Practice - 100/100 (+0)

(18) Adamancy:

- (8) Armored Recuperation - 90/100 (+5)

- (5) Burden Opponent - 70/100 (+0)

- (3) Ending Blow - 100/100 (+0)

- (3) Ocular Renewal - 20/100 (+0)

- (2) Cold Resistance - 15/100 (+5)

(5) Numinance:

- (2) Revive - 100/100 (+100)

- (4) Sensor Shroud - 100/100 (+50) (Knack)

-----

Resources:

Earning: 9

Spending: 0

Banked: 132

-----

Rolls for Next Turn:

T6 = Personal Power/Skill

L6 = Moderately Convenient

-----

Voting:

Main Actions: (What should we focus on in the next chapter?)

A1 - Focus on the needs, wants, and skills of the Common Soldiers and Non-Coms.

A2 - Focus on your Reputation with your Lords and underling Commanders.

A3 - Work on your Understanding of Magic with the Medcorps and Green Study Group.

A4 - Work on Physical Skills & Magics by training with and against the Martial-Minded like Jon.

A5 - Focus on your Army's Strategic and Logistical situation. (War Games, Runes, etc.)

Personal Rolls Sources:

S1 - Wikipedia (On Cooldown)

S2 - Steam Games

S3 - Wookiepedia

S4 - World Rolls List (On Cooldown)

-----

Information/Maps:

1 - Rainwood War Map

File Garden - Imgur - Catbox

Key:

Red - Baratheon Loyalist Coalition (Wulfric’s Army)

Blue - Stannis’s Rebels + R'hllor Support (Davos as Lord of the Rainwood)

2 - Long Lake Province - Lands and Governance Map (Updated)

File Garden - Imgur - Catbox

3 - Ser Cron Clegane - By: Thorison1080 (HACK Lore - CH 18)

An excellent Omake backstory by: Thorison1080 about the Northern Rainwood Commanding Major Sir Harries Basin-Lannister and the maintainer's youngest brother Sir Cron Clegane, who should be coming up more as this quest goes on.

-----

Write-In/Questions:

1 - Who should get the Bold Butterfree as a Companion?

There have been a few, but one particularly bold one has been investigating the army and The Green emanating from Wulfric (that feels GREAT to Bug types) and is likely to bond to someone in the Army next chapter.

The roll from ch34 determined that they would not bond with anyone who already had a Pokemon (not unless someone goes and invents Pokeballs), but there are still plenty of possibilities, from Sir Alyn Darry, to Yara Mallister (nee Greyjoy), to Sam Tarly, or our childhood friend and now personal guard, Sir Harl of Wintertown and so on…

Basically, the only ones who can't are Wulfric, Jon, and Torren Hund, or off-screen characters like Joff, Rob, Sir Cron, etc.

There will also be more people getting companions throughout the Rainwood Campaign, but the bold Butterfree should bond with someone specific next chapter.