Chapter 147: The Thread Through the Vale
The shepherd tending his goats upon the mountainside never looked directly at the rider.
He appeared to be an old man wrapped in rough wool, leaning heavily upon a crooked staff while his animals searched for grass among the rocks. His face was weathered, his beard unkempt and his clothing no different from that of a hundred other shepherds living beneath the Giant's Lance.
The rider passed without sparing him more than a glance.
A small harp rested across the rider's back. A grey cloak covered his shoulders, and a plain brown horse carried him down the narrow mountain road leading away from the Eyrie.
The shepherd waited until the man disappeared around the bend.
Then he moved three stones beside the road.
One upright.
Two lying flat.
A league farther down the mountain, a merchant caravan approached the Bloody Gate.
The merchant driving the first wagon noticed the arrangement of stones. He scratched his beard, looked toward the grey-cloaked musician descending the road and continued forward without slowing.
No raven circled above them.
The great raven Jon had sent north was still at Winterfell, waiting in the castle alongside his eagle. It had never been used to pursue the courier, nor would Jon waste such noticeable creatures upon work best performed by ordinary men.
The Singer was followed by human eyes alone.
And those eyes were everywhere.
The musician passed through the Bloody Gate shortly after midday.
He smiled at the guards, played a cheerful tune for the gatekeeper's daughter and accepted a piece of bread in exchange. Nothing about him appeared secretive.
That was what made him dangerous.
The merchant caravan followed nearly an hour later.
Its leader did not watch the Singer after that. A young woman selling flowers beside the road took over. She saw the grey cloak pass and later tied a yellow ribbon around the handle of her basket.
A potter travelling in the opposite direction noticed the ribbon.
He turned his donkey toward Gulltown.
The agents never spoke.
Most did not know one another.
Each watched the Singer for only a short distance before passing responsibility to the next person. No single follower remained behind him long enough to draw suspicion.
Yet by sunset, the Singer knew.
He could not explain how.
He had seen no repeated face. No rider remained consistently behind him. None of the merchants or travellers appeared interested in his movements.
But three miles beyond the Bloody Gate, he passed a lame chestnut horse travelling toward Gulltown.
An hour later, he saw the same horse tied outside a roadside inn.
That alone meant little. The rider could have used another trail.
Then the Singer noticed a small pile of stones beneath an oak tree.
The arrangement was meaningless to most travellers.
To a man who had carried secret messages for Petyr Baelish for six years, it looked like a signal.
He continued riding.
He did not look behind him.
At the next village, he entered an inn and purchased a private room. He ordered stew, complained loudly about the condition of the road and told the innkeeper that he hoped to reach Gulltown within two days.
After locking his door, he opened the window and climbed onto the sloping roof.
He crossed into the next building, descended through an abandoned storehouse and emerged into a narrow alley wearing a different cloak. The harp remained beneath the bed in his rented room.
A cooper's apprentice was returning from the well.
The Singer pressed three silver coins into the boy's hand.
"Take a message to Gulltown."
The boy stared at the silver.
"To whom?"
"A man named Halman at the Silver Anchor. Tell him the musician will arrive tomorrow evening."
"That is all?"
"That is all."
The apprentice nodded eagerly.
The Singer watched him leave the village along the main road.
Then he purchased a mule from an elderly farmer and turned east through the woods.
One of Jon's agents saw the apprentice depart.
None saw the Singer.
By the following evening, the cooper's boy had reached the outskirts of Gulltown.
Two agents followed him.
One entered the city through the northern gate. The other circled toward the harbour and waited near the Silver Anchor.
The boy found Halman, delivered the message and received a copper for his trouble.
Nothing happened.
Halman was a retired sailor who had never met Petyr Baelish and knew no one called the Singer.
The agents watched the inn until midnight before accepting the truth.
They had followed a decoy.
The younger of the two men cursed under his breath.
"The Singer could already be aboard a ship."
His companion shook his head.
"He left his harp behind."
"That tells us nothing."
"It tells us he realised we were watching him. If he knows that much, he will not approach his true destination immediately."
"Then where do we find him?"
"We do not."
The older agent looked toward the crowded streets of Gulltown.
"We find what he came here to collect."
The hidden drop stood beneath a ruined shrine two miles east of the city.
The shrine had once been dedicated to the Warrior, but time had broken the stone sword from the statue's hands. Moss covered the Warrior's face, and travellers rarely stopped there.
The Singer arrived before dawn.
He tied his mule among the trees and approached on foot. For several minutes, he remained completely still, listening to the forest.
No birds fell silent.
No branch moved.
No traveller walked the nearby road.
Satisfied, he knelt beside the ruined statue and removed a loose stone from its base.
A leather pouch waited inside.
He reached for it.
A sound came from the road.
The Singer froze.
A wagon rattled past the shrine. An old woman sat at the front while a boy slept among sacks of onions behind her.
Neither looked toward him.
He waited until the wagon disappeared.
Then he took the pouch and returned the stone to its place.
Inside were twelve silver stags and a strip of parchment bearing three short lines.
He read the message once.
Then again.
He held it above a small candle, allowing the flame to consume the parchment before grinding the ashes beneath his boot.
The Singer had been ordered to return to King's Landing.
He did not know that the parchment had been replaced during the night.
He did not know that the original message had already been copied.
And he did not know that a woman gathering mushrooms among the trees had watched him retrieve it.
The original parchment was travelling north before sunrise.
Mario received the copied message six days later.
He carried it into Jon's private command chamber and placed it upon the table.
The room was smaller than the great military halls aboard the fleet's flagship. Jon preferred it that way. It held only a central table, several maps and a secure radio station through which reports passed between Winter's Heaven and its agents across Westeros.
Alex stood near the window, watching the grey northern sea.
"The Singer escaped our first teams," Mario said.
Jon read the report.
"He noticed them?"
"He noticed something. He abandoned his harp, changed his clothes and sent an innocent boy toward Gulltown carrying a false message."
Alex turned from the window.
"So we lost him."
"For less than a day," Mario replied. "Our people realised the deception and began watching the locations where a courier might collect money or new orders."
He pointed toward the copied parchment.
"The Singer visited a hidden drop outside Gulltown."
The message itself appeared harmless.
The falcon's widow must protect what remains.
Payment received before the Hand's final journey.
Return to the garden. Await the Mockingbird.
Jon studied the words.
Alex read them over his shoulder.
"The falcon's widow," he said. "Lysa Arryn."
"That is the most likely meaning," Mario agreed.
"And the Hand's final journey?"
"Jon Arryn's return to King's Landing."
Alex's expression hardened.
"The payment was made before he died."
"We cannot prove what the payment concerned," Jon said.
"No," Alex replied. "But Littlefinger has a secret courier carrying messages between King's Landing and Lysa Arryn. That same network moved coin before Jon Arryn's death."
Mario rested one finger upon the final line.
"The mockingbird has a nest inside the Eyrie."
Jon shook his head.
"Not a nest."
His eyes remained upon the reference to the falcon's widow.
"An accomplice."
Silence settled over the room.
Mario finally asked, "Should we seize the Singer?"
"No."
"He escaped once. He may do so again."
"He will not learn more if he is inside one of our cells."
Alex looked at Jon.
"You intend to let him return to Baelish."
"I intend to learn every place he stops, every person he meets and every road he uses."
"What of Lysa?"
Jon moved to the map of the Vale.
"If we accuse her now, she will panic. Anything connecting her to Baelish could disappear through the Moon Door before our message reaches the Eyrie."
Alex frowned.
"We could warn Lord Stark."
"With what? A coded sentence and a payment we cannot explain?"
"It may be enough for Ned to question her."
"And that questioning would warn Baelish."
Jon placed three markers below the Eyrie.
"No arrests. No warnings. We enter the castle."
Mario examined the markers.
"We already have people in the Vale."
"Not close enough to Lysa."
"We can arrange it. A merchant train delivers wine and candles to the Eyrie every month. One of our men could join it."
"Do so."
Mario placed another marker near the castle.
"A woman from Gulltown has worked for us for three years. She is skilled with sewing and embroidery."
"Send her as a seamstress."
"A third agent could seek work among the servants."
"They must not know one another," Jon ordered. "No meetings, no shared drops and no contact unless their lives depend upon it."
"What are they searching for?"
"Nothing yet."
Alex raised an eyebrow.
"We are infiltrating the Eyrie to search for nothing?"
"They will observe," Jon explained. "Which chambers remain locked? Which servants does Lysa trust? Where does she go when a message from Baelish arrives? What objects did she recently move after receiving his warning?"
"And once we locate the letters?"
"We leave them untouched."
Mario understood first.
"If the letters disappear, Baelish will know the Eyrie is compromised."
Jon nodded.
"I want copies. I want proof of who wrote them, who received them and what orders passed between them. Baelish believes the danger lies upon the roads."
His finger rested upon the Eyrie.
"Let him continue watching the roads while we enter the castle."
The second report concerned Varys.
One of Jon's agents working inside King's Landing's ravenry had copied a message before it was tied to a raven travelling north.
Varys had written carefully.
The message did not name Petyr Baelish directly, but warned Eddard Stark that several businesses connected to a member of the small council had recently burned, closed or changed ownership.
An unseen struggle had begun in the capital.
Varys advised Lord Stark to trust no promise of safety and to speak of Jon Arryn's final investigation only among those whose loyalty was beyond question.
Mario placed the copy before Jon.
"We can stop it."
Jon read the letter twice.
"No."
"Varys may be attempting to draw Lord Stark into the investigation."
"He is."
"Then why permit it?"
"Because Ned must eventually understand that Jon Arryn's death was not natural."
Alex folded his arms.
"And if he immediately shows it to Robert?"
"Then we learn how Robert responds."
"If he sends a reply?"
"Our agent will copy it."
Mario gathered the reports.
"You are using Varys to test Lord Stark."
"I am allowing Varys to ask a question I also want answered."
Jon looked toward the north.
"Does Ned act as Robert's friend, as Lord of Winterfell, or as a father protecting his family?"
The raven arrived at Winterfell two days later.
Maester Luwin delivered the message to Ned's solar without breaking the second seal hidden beneath the first.
Ned read it alone.
By sunset, Benjen and Robb stood before his table.
Robb finished reading and looked up.
"Who is destroying these businesses?"
"The message does not say."
"But you know who owned them."
"I suspect they were connected to Lord Baelish."
Benjen leaned against the wall.
"Littlefinger serves upon the small council."
"So does Varys," Ned replied.
"And one is warning you about the other."
"Perhaps."
Robb looked at the small parchment again.
"Could Jon be responsible for the unseen forces moving through King's Landing?"
Ned did not answer immediately.
He remembered Jon's warning regarding the royal family. He remembered the certainty with which the boy had spoken of dangers far beyond the Wall and secrets hidden within the south.
Most of all, he remembered the giant eagle that had descended into Winterfell carrying Jon's message.
Jon had left the North years ago.
Yet somehow, he seemed to know more about King's Landing than men living inside the Red Keep.
"Jon has been beyond the Wall for years," Benjen said.
"That does not mean his hands cannot reach King's Landing," Ned replied.
Robb glanced toward the window.
"How far do you think they reach?"
Ned thought of agents moving unseen through the capital.
Of messages crossing kingdoms.
Of a fleet now approaching northern waters.
"Farther than any of us understand."
Benjen studied the warning.
"Will you tell Robert?"
"Not yet."
"He will be furious if he learns you concealed it."
"He is already surrounded by Lannisters, servants and men whose loyalties I cannot measure. If I show him this now, he may confront Baelish before we possess proof of anything."
Robb nodded slowly.
"You want to wait for Jon."
"I want to hear what Jon knows."
"And if he refuses to tell you?"
Ned folded the message and returned it to the table.
"Then I will remind him that he travelled all this distance because I asked him to come."
Benjen laughed quietly.
"You believe that will be enough?"
"No," Ned admitted. "But I must begin somewhere."
Joffrey stood in the great hall before his father, the Starks and half the royal court.
His face burned with humiliation.
"You will apologise," Robert said.
"I did nothing."
"You provoked a girl younger than you, insulted her family and reached for live steel when her brother stopped her."
"She threatened me!"
"With a wooden sword," Robert growled. "While you hid behind two Kingsguard."
Cersei rose from her chair.
"Joffrey is the crown prince. The Stark girl should have shown him respect."
Robert turned toward her.
"Respect? Is that what you call it when the boy follows children into courtyards and insults them until they fight?"
"Arya Stark is not innocent."
"No one has claimed she is. But this time, she lowered her sword."
"She would have struck him if Robb had not interfered."
"And Joffrey wanted her to."
Joffrey glared at Robb.
The young Stark stood beside Ned without triumph or mockery. Somehow, that made the humiliation worse.
Robert pointed toward Arya.
"Apologise."
Joffrey's jaw tightened.
"No."
The hall fell silent.
Cersei stepped forward.
"You will not shame our son before the entire North."
"The boy shames himself every time he opens his mouth."
Cersei went still.
Even Jaime closed his eyes briefly.
Robert continued, "He will apologise to Arya and Robb, or I will send him back to King's Landing under guard."
"You would send away your own heir?"
"I would send away a spoiled boy who cannot pass one week without threatening his hosts."
Joffrey looked to his mother, expecting her to save him.
Cersei's face revealed fury, but even she understood that refusing Robert before the entire hall could deepen the damage.
Joffrey forced the words through clenched teeth.
"I apologise."
Arya smiled.
Joffrey's eyes flashed with hatred.
Robb touched his sister's shoulder before she could respond.
"We accept," he said.
Robert waved Joffrey away in disgust.
Cersei followed her son from the hall. Jaime remained long enough to exchange a troubled look with his brother.
Tyrion drank from his cup.
"Well," he murmured, "that was almost peaceful."
"You allowed them to humiliate him."
Cersei's voice trembled with anger.
Jaime closed the chamber door behind him.
"Joffrey humiliated himself."
"He is our son."
"He is Robert's heir, and he nearly drew a sword upon Ned Stark's eldest son."
"The Stark boy challenged him."
"After Joffrey tried to make Arya strike first."
Cersei walked toward the window.
"The Starks are turning Robert against us."
"Joffrey is accomplishing that without their assistance."
She spun around.
"You defend them now?"
"I am trying to keep our family alive."
"From whom? Robert?"
"From everyone Joffrey believes he can threaten without consequence."
Jaime lowered his voice.
"Jon Snow will reach Winterfell soon. Whatever he is bringing from beyond the Wall, Robert is eager to see it, Ned trusts him and the Stark children speak of him as though he were some hero from the Age of Heroes. This is not the moment for Joffrey to make enemies of the entire family."
"He warned Ned against the betrothal."
"We do not know what he said."
"He interfered."
"And you poisoned his eagle."
Cersei's expression hardened.
"The poison failed."
"That does not make the attempt wise."
She turned away from him.
"We should leave before Snow arrives."
Jaime stared at her.
"Leave?"
"Return to King's Landing. Robert can remain here and play with giants if he wishes."
"If you suddenly flee north after testing Jon's creature, you will look guilty."
"He does not know."
Jaime remembered the unnatural intelligence in the eagle's golden eyes.
"Perhaps."
That single word unsettled her more than an accusation.
Arya visited the eagle near sunset.
The enormous creature rested in Winterfell's outer courtyard, its wings folded against its sides. Even after several days, the horses refused to approach it.
The giant raven Jon had sent remained upon the battlements above. Black feathers stirred in the cold wind as it watched the courtyard in silence.
Arya carried a heavy piece of meat in both hands.
The eagle lowered its head and accepted the offering without snapping at her fingers.
"Joffrey apologised," she told it.
The eagle swallowed the meat.
"He did not mean it."
It continued watching her.
"Robb stopped me from hitting him. I was angry at first, but he was right. Joffrey wanted me to strike him."
Arya sat upon the stone ledge.
"I still wish I had hit him."
The eagle tilted its head.
"You would understand if Jon told you about him."
Far away, Jon watched through the eyes of an ordinary sparrow perched beneath the roof of the armoury.
He had chosen the small bird because no one paid attention to sparrows. The eagle and raven were too distinctive. If either reacted unnaturally whenever Jon watched Winterfell, someone intelligent might eventually discover the truth.
Arya looked directly into the eagle's eyes.
"Can Jon see through your eyes?"
Jon's concentration nearly broke.
The eagle gave no answer.
Arya waited.
"Can he hear me?"
Still nothing.
She sighed and leaned closer.
"Tell him to hurry."
Jon released the sparrow from his control.
For several moments, he sat silently inside his chamber.
Arya had come dangerously close to the truth through instinct alone.
He smiled faintly.
Then, across hundreds of leagues, he sent a simple command to the eagle.
The great bird lowered its head.
Arya's eyes widened.
She slowly reached forward and placed one hand against its feathers.
"I knew you understood me," she whispered.
Eleven days passed.
The voyage north continued without incident. Jon's soldiers prepared for the march to Winterfell, while the ten giants inspected their enormous iron armour.
The fifty great direwolves were fitted with simple leather harnesses carrying the emblem of Winter's Heaven. Jon refused heavier armour. They were faster without it, and few weapons in Westeros could penetrate their thick bodies before the beasts reached whoever had attacked them.
Every member of Jon's travelling force received an ordinary steel sword.
They were exceptional weapons by Westerosi standards, but there was nothing about them that revealed Winter's Heaven possessed forty thousand blades of Valyrian steel.
The remaining soldiers and supplies would stay aboard the fleet or establish a controlled encampment near White Harbor with Lord Manderly's permission.
Jon intended to travel inland with only the force already chosen.
One thousand elite soldiers.
Ten giants in full iron armour.
Fifty direwolves slightly larger than warhorses.
To Westeros, it would appear to be an army.
To Jon, it was an escort.
The first report reached White Harbor shortly after sunrise.
A fishing vessel had spotted several ships approaching from the east.
Lord Wyman Manderly ordered the harbour prepared, expecting Jon's arrival within the next few days. By midday, a second vessel returned with confirmation that the fleet was closer than expected.
Crowds gathered along the docks.
Shipbuilders abandoned their work. Merchants climbed warehouse roofs. Sailors pointed toward the distant horizon as unfamiliar steamships approached without sails.
The larger flagship remained far offshore, exactly as Jon had planned. Its vast size made entering White Harbor unnecessary and impractical. Jon had no wish to spend hours displaying it when his true destination lay inland.
The ten smaller steamships moved forward.
Even they were larger than most vessels in the harbour.
White steam rose from their funnels while metal machinery drove them against the wind. Sailors stared in disbelief as the ships slowed with unnatural precision and approached the cleared docks.
Wyman Manderly stood at the head of the welcoming party.
His sons waited beside him, along with knights, harbour officials and hundreds of guards.
The first steamship opened.
Soldiers descended in disciplined ranks.
They wore dark armour and carried long steel swords without ornamentation. None spoke. None broke formation to stare at the city.
Then the direwolves came ashore.
The crowd retreated as the first beast stepped onto the dock.
It stood slightly taller than many of the horses. Thick grey fur covered its body, while intelligent golden eyes passed over the gathered people.
A horse screamed and nearly threw its rider.
The direwolf ignored it.
More followed.
By the time the tenth had disembarked, the people nearest the docks were pressed against the buildings.
Then the second steamship opened.
An enormous iron-covered foot struck the wood.
The dock groaned.
A giant emerged in full armour.
Dark plates covered him from head to foot. He carried a reinforced spear taller than Winterfell's gatehouse, yet moved with careful discipline.
Wyman's guards raised their weapons instinctively.
"Lower them!" their commander shouted.
The giant looked down at the spears.
He did nothing.
He stepped aside and waited.
Nine more armoured giants followed.
By the time Jon finally came ashore beside Alex and his personal guards, White Harbor had fallen almost completely silent.
Wyman Manderly stepped forward.
The Lord of White Harbor did not kneel.
Jon was a king, but he was also Wyman's ally, friend and trusted business partner. Their relationship had been built through mutual respect, profitable trade and assistance freely given—not submission or fealty.
Instead, Wyman placed one hand over his chest and bowed deeply.
"Your Grace," he said, "White Harbor welcomes you as a king, an ally and a son of the North."
Jon returned the gesture with a respectful inclination of his head.
"You honour me, Lord Manderly. I have not forgotten the friendship you offered my people—or the trust you placed in our alliance."
"You have repaid that trust many times over," Wyman replied. "The grain, cement and trade from your kingdom have strengthened White Harbor considerably. You will always receive a friend's welcome within my city."
"As will you within Winter's Heaven."
The words were simple, but Wyman understood their importance.
Jon was not merely acknowledging a political agreement. He was openly recognising House Manderly as a trusted friend of his kingdom.
Wyman looked past him.
One thousand soldiers continued assembling in ordered formations. The great direwolves spread around them without attacking a single horse or barking at the terrified crowd.
Behind them, the giants stood like living towers of iron.
"Your Grace," Wyman said carefully, "your letter described this as an escort."
"It is."
Wyman glanced toward the ten armoured giants.
"Then I confess I am curious what you consider an army."
Jon's expression remained calm.
"Something I would not bring into a friend's city."
Wyman studied him for a moment.
Then he laughed.
"Robert Baratheon is going to love you."
"I have been warned."
Wyman gestured toward the city.
"Rooms have been prepared for you and your commanders. There is also enough land beyond the eastern wall for your soldiers to establish their camp. I suspected your escort might be larger than ordinary men would consider necessary."
"You suspected correctly."
"I did not suspect the armoured giants."
"Few people do."
Wyman looked once more toward them.
"I imagine feeding ten giants will present its own difficulties."
"We brought our own provisions."
"Good. My cooks nearly declared war when I told them giants might be dining in White Harbor."
Alex laughed.
Wyman's expression turned more serious.
"The roads to Winterfell remain open, but such a large procession will not move quickly. Your soldiers may keep a steady pace, but the supply wagons and giant equipment will slow you."
"How long do you estimate?" Jon asked.
"Approximately ten days," Wyman answered. "Perhaps twelve if the roads worsen. The recent rain has turned several stretches to mud."
"That is acceptable."
"I will provide guides and riders. The villages ahead must also be warned. Fifty direwolves larger than warhorses appearing without notice may cause unnecessary panic."
"A wise precaution," Jon agreed.
Wyman smiled.
"Then come, Your Grace. We have business to discuss before you begin your journey—and my sons have been waiting impatiently to see whether half the stories about you are true."
"Only half?"
"The other half sounded too modest."
The raven from White Harbor reached Winterfell two days later.
The great hall was filled with Starks, Baratheons and Lannisters when Maester Luwin hurried inside carrying the message.
Robert noticed him immediately.
"Well?"
Luwin handed the parchment to Ned, but Robert lacked the patience to wait.
"Read it aloud."
Ned broke the seal.
"King Jon Snow has reached White Harbor."
Robert rose from his chair.
"At last!"
The hall erupted into conversation.
Arya nearly jumped from her seat. Bran leaned forward eagerly. Sansa looked toward the doors as if Jon might appear that very moment.
Ned continued reading.
"He has departed White Harbor with one thousand soldiers."
Robert grinned.
"Only a thousand?"
"Ten giants in full iron armour."
The king's grin widened.
"And fifty direwolves, each reported to be slightly larger than a warhorse."
Silence followed.
Joffrey laughed uncertainly.
"That is impossible."
"No," Tyrion said from farther down the table. "I suspect it is merely inconvenient."
Cersei's face had lost some of its colour.
Robert struck the table with one hand and roared with laughter.
"Ten giants! Gods, Ned, your bastard certainly knows how to answer an invitation."
"Jon is not coming for you," Arya said.
The hall quieted again.
Robert looked at her.
Arya remembered the words from Jon's letter.
"He said he was coming because Father asked him."
Robert stared at Ned.
Then he laughed even harder.
Ned ignored him and continued reading.
"Lord Manderly estimates that the journey from White Harbor to Winterfell will require approximately ten days. It may take longer if the roads worsen."
Robert's excitement dimmed slightly.
"Ten more days?"
"Jon is travelling with one thousand soldiers, ten giants, fifty direwolves and heavy supply wagons," Ned replied. "They cannot move as quickly as a single rider."
Robert grumbled and returned to his seat.
"We have already waited long enough."
"The delay will give us time to prepare," Catelyn said. "Winterfell has never hosted giants."
"Winterfell has never hosted anyone worth waiting ten days to see," Robert declared.
Tyrion lifted his cup.
"I am deeply wounded, Your Grace."
Robert ignored him.
Across the hall, Cersei stared toward the northern windows.
Ten days.
That was how long remained before Jon Snow reached Winterfell.
Until that moment, he had been a distant king hidden beyond the Wall. His warnings could be dismissed. His power could be treated as rumour.
Not anymore.
He had crossed the sea.
He had entered the North.
And with every passing day, Jon Snow drew closer to Winterfell.
End of Chapter 147
--------------
Author's Note
Thank you everyone for reading and supporting my stories! ❤️
A quick Patreon update:
🥉 $2 — 5 Chapters Ahead
🥈 $5 — 10 Chapters Ahead
🥇 $10 — 20 Chapters Ahead
👑 $20 Legendary Supporter — 30 Chapters Ahead
The Legendary tier has now been available for about a month, and thank you so much to everyone supporting me through it!
🔥 Naruto: The God List Exposed My City
Some older readers may recognize this story. This is an old fanfiction of mine that I had stopped writing, but I have finally restarted it and will be taking it seriously again.
Patreon: Up to Chapter 18 available now!
For now, the new chapters will remain Patreon-exclusive. Once the story reaches Chapter 34 on Patreon, I will restart uploading new chapters on Webnovel as well.
Current Patreon Chapters
📖 Reborn as Jon Snow with God System — Up to Chapter 177
🏰 GOT Kingdom Building System — Up to Chapter 110
🍥 Naruto: The God List Exposed My City — Up to Chapter 18
And more is coming!
🎬 I've also released a Reborn as Jon Snow with God System Auidobook upto chapters 31–60 video with improved visuals on my YouTube channel: Epicpensaga.
Patreon: patreon.com/EpicpensagabyMR_Fanfic
Thank you for all the support!
----------