◉◉◉◉◉
Jimmy fell silent the moment Catelyn stepped onto the deck.
Catelyn, A woman with a talent for planting the seeds of disaster wherever she went.
She had urged Ned to accept the position of Hand of the King. She had trusted Petyr. She had seized Tyrion on suspicion alone then released him without leverage or gain. In the end, all she had managed was to provoke House Lannister and set half the realm on fire.
And truth be told, Jimmy rather liked Tyrion. A sharp mind, a decent heart, and rare kindness toward those who deserved it.
"Lady Catelyn," Jimmy said lightly, "the wind's turning colder, You'd best return to the cabin."
"I only came to thank you properly," she replied. "And to correct an impropriety. I do not even know the name of the man who saved us. If you're willing, I would also ask where we are bound."
"Oh, that." Jimmy grinned. "Name's Jimmy. Just Jimmy. Forget the Smiling Knight business. That was for amusement."
"As for our destination, we're sailing to Old Wolf Isle. You'll understand when we arrive. There are… familiar faces waiting for you."
He turned to the young warrior beside him.
"Now then, I never did catch your name. That's my failing, May I?"
"You are too gracious, my lord," she said. "My name is Daisy, Daisy Mormont."
Jimmy blinked, then looked her over with renewed interest.
"The She-Bear of Bear Island? The one who received a spiked mace for her birthday?"
Now Daisy was the one startled. Few knew of that gift. Fewer still would connect it to her.
"Well, I'll be," Jimmy laughed. "Pleasure to meet you. Tell me, what kind of weapon and armor do you favor? When we reach Old Wolf Isle, I'll have Gendry forge something worthy of you."
His warmth toward her was genuine.
He could not help but think of another young Mormont a girl far too brave for her years. A child who had sent sixty-two warriors to fight beside Jon Snow, knowing full well the odds were hopeless.
Sixty-two.
For a ruling house.
Was that a lordship or a fishing village?
The Mormonts bled for the Starks not for gain, but for loyalty. Jimmy's own involvement was driven by obligation—by something like destiny. Theirs was driven by faith.
That counted for something.
…
By day, Horus pulled the vessel swiftly across the water. When night fell and the great bird rested, Jimmy took the helm and trimmed the sails himself. Before long, they sailed into the warmer waters of the Summer Sea.
As the air grew heavier with heat, Catelyn's suspicions sharpened.
She had assumed Jimmy was a Northerner. But if they were heading south far south what did that mean?
Dorne?
Had he slain Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch in vengeance for Elia Martell?
If so, that made their position precarious. Had Ned not saved Robert on the Trident years ago, Prince Rhaegar might well have won the crown.
Catelyn studied Jimmy in secret.
He dressed like a merchant of the Reach. The armor she had glimpsed that night bore the faint design of twisting vines.
Vines.
What house bore vines as its sigil?
The first King of the Reach, Garth Greenhand, was said to have worn a crown of woven vines. And Jimmy had first appeared near the shores of the Gods Eye—land tied to ancient legend.
But that seemed absurd.
Then there was Highgarden. Yet Highgarden was now allied with the Lannisters. Tywin had pledged that any child born of Joffrey and Margaery would inherit Casterly Rock.
If Jimmy were of the Reach, they would already have been delivered into Lannister hands.
None of it fit.
The more Catelyn tried to piece together his identity, the less sense it made. And until she understood who he truly was, she would keep her gratitude tempered with caution.
Daisy was no sailor, but even she knew the maps well enough to say this: she had never heard of an island called Old Wolf Isle.
And Jimmy had claimed there was a blacksmith there. Not some wandering hedge-smith, but one capable of forging armor and proper weapons. That meant settlement. Structure. Permanence.
Yet none of them had ever heard the name.
Old Wolf Isle, A name that carried the cold breath of the North.
And yet here they were, deep in the Summer Sea.
If this island truly existed beyond common knowledge, then even the Dornish had never charted it. Otherwise, it would not bear such a name.
But that was only part of the mystery.
There was Jimmy himself.
The way he had treated Robb's wounds was nothing like the poultices and boiled herbs Talisa was accustomed to. He had stitched flesh with needle and thread as though repairing cloth. He had used a device he called a syringe to inject medicine directly into the body.
It looked like sorcery.
He insisted it was science.
Talisa, trained in healing, had never seen its like. And yet the results were undeniable.
Robb had taken an arrow. Jimmy had removed it cleanly, flushed the wound, stitched it shut, dusted it with a fine white powder, and administered another injection. No fever. No swelling. No rot.
The injury healed as though it had been no worse than a thorn prick.
And then there was Horus.
The eagle could grow large or small at will. It spoke. It breathed fire like a dragon out of legend.
The more they learned, the less ordinary Jimmy seemed.
Still, when they finally reached Old Wolf Isle, all their notions of mystery would pale in comparison to what they found there.
…
"Jimmy," Robb said as he stepped from the cabin and stared at the land ahead, "this is… Old Wolf Isle?"
The question hung in the air. The rocky outcrop rising from the sea bore little resemblance to any wolf he had ever seen.
"Of course it is," Jimmy replied easily. "Horus, give them a lift."
Without hesitation, Horus seized the four of them and carried them ashore in a single sweep of his wings.
Jimmy dismissed the wooden sloop with a gesture and leapt after them. He landed with a thunderous crash that sent sand and pebbles scattering in all directions.
The pose was dramatic. The impact, less so.
Robb's eye twitched slightly.
The man didn't land like a knight. He landed like a living siege weapon.
If Jimmy had heard the thought, he might have laughed and said he had slain creatures far worse than dragons, and that Horus alone could best any winged beast foolish enough to challenge him.
But he said nothing of the sort.
Instead, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called out.
"Old Wolf! Gendry! We've got new neighbors!"
…
No answer.
Daisy surveyed the island.
It was little more than a stretch of jagged rock. On one side stood what appeared to be a dwelling carved directly into a low stone ridge. The entire island could not have measured more than three miles across at its widest, perhaps five at its longest.
A narrow stream cut through the center—so narrow it barely deserved the name. A ribbon of water, no wider than a man's palm.
"This is it?" she murmured.
Jimmy started up the slope toward the carved dwelling.
"They're probably on the far side fishing. Come on."
Daisy followed, frowning.
"My lord… how many people live here? It's awfully quiet."
Jimmy held up two fingers.
"Twenty?" she guessed. "You've a blacksmith with only twenty people?"
"Twenty?" Jimmy laughed. "No. Two."
"Two?"
"One's a former Hand of the King. The other's a blacksmith's apprentice."
He shrugged.
"Apprentice's got talent, though. Solid fundamentals. Could've earned his master's chain already. I showed him a few tricks and passed on some techniques. Been a while now. He should be forging proper steel by this point."
He spoke as though discussing something entirely ordinary.
As though an ex-Hand of the King and a gifted smith living in exile on an uncharted island in the Summer Sea were the most natural thing in the world.
◉◉◉◉◉
~Support with 200 PowerStones = 1 Bonus Chapter
◉◉◉◉◉
For early access to advanced chapters on P-atreon:
P-atreon/iamxeno
(Just remove the - hyphen to access normally)
Thank you so much for your support and for reading!