I thought I should try to write some of this down. My name is Michael Dunwoody, and I don't know where I am or how I got here. I was a 30-year-old farmer from Iowa, but now I am in a land unknown. I suppose I was born here anew, like some story, but I know not of any purpose. I was born to a new family, and like any child, I only have some fragments of my memories as a toddler. I lived with my mother and my father's family while my father travelled nearby as a merchant. However, my new mother died when I was 4, and my uncle passed me off to my father and said that they could no longer keep me in their home. My father decided to move to a place called King's Landing in order to better provide for us. I helped my father as much as I could, but by the time I was 14, he had died down at the docks. This world is so brutal, I didn't even know until the next day, because when he did not come home at night, I had to go looking for him. Apparently, he slipped on the docks, and a box crushed him.
Even now, I can remember the feeling of being dumbfounded. His body was already disposed of, and none of the other merchants wanted to waste time talking to me – I was nothing to them just as they were nothing to me. I remember waiting for a government official to come by or for someone to help me sort through some sort of legal paperwork. But nothing came.
Before this, I knew things were different here; how could I not? But it really struck home for me. I realized I didn't have anything tying me here, and I didn't have the heart to try and claw my way to the top of the merchant class in this cruel, lawless world. I sold off what I could, and decided that I wanted to be a farmer again. I know I could do it better than anyone else here; they were all very medieval here. But I also knew that the smallfolk had no rights, no liberty. I was stuck, for the Reach had the best farmland, but was already filled with farmers. I could try the Riverlands, but I didn't want to die. When war broke out amongst the kingdoms, the Riverlands burned – to say nothing of the small skirmishes that occurred all the time among the lords of the Riverlands. I had no interest in being written about in the history books, but I didn't want my entry to be: 'The entire town's inhabitants were killed in the raid.'
It seemed to me that everything boiled down to that. I wanted a good life, and to not die. Since coming here, I constantly feared death. There was sickness, hunger, bandits, cutpurses, lords, and fighting. As a merchant's son, I had seen the map of Westeros many times, and while I wasn't very knowledgeable about current politics, I knew the general history of the kingdoms. I knew without dragons (DRAGONS?! This still astounds and frightens me), that war would come eventually. I knew not when, but being so close to the throne with no natural defenses the Riverlands was probably a death sentence. Similarly, the Crownlands was the same and much too close to a line of mad rulers (I mean, drinking wildfire? Seriously?).
My only real options were the Vale or the North. I was skeptical of the Vale; I knew that they were plagued by mountain tribes, so I knew there might not be room for me. And the fact that I would have to demote myself from a merchant to smallfolk. To be honest, I didn't even know if that was possible. In the end, I decided to make my way north through the Vale, and, if need be, onwards to the North. The North seemed to be frontier-esque, like early America, with a harsh land and harsh life, but apparently, they have different customs there. I know it's not correct, but the talk around King's Landing carried that vibe. But I knew if need be, my mother was a Northerner by blood. So, with that in mind, I decided to head out.
xxx
Sometimes it is easy to forget I am not on Earth. When I was walking through the woods on my way northwards, it looks the same as anything you would find on earth. But like dragons and wildfire, something comes along and slaps you in the face. This time, it was the Eyrie. It was a cloudless day, and I could see it perched atop the mountain from afar. The stories I had heard described it, but I thought the mountain wouldn't be that large and that people's varying descriptions of measurement failed again. I was wrong. It was insane to see, and frightening, to be honest. How many were forced to make that, and how many died? I know that Westeros had banned slavery thankfully, but for me, even serfdom is a bit too close for my liking. I find that is the name of the game here, my fear. My decision to leave King's Landing was rooted in fear, and even my life daily is filled with fear. Will I eat today? Will a wandering lord take his cruelty out on me? These thoughts plagued me, and I did my best to avoid others.
When I passed through Gulltown, I picked up an older workhorse, and a beat-up wagon, which thankfully had new wheels. The cart is simple, so I still must walk, but I have unloaded my pack into the wagon, and have been able to collect items for my new life slowly. I managed to get a basic bow and some arrows from King's Landing, along with a knife and a hatchet. I have been lucky to avoid bandits I think, I still don't know what my odds are, but I keep my money hidden best as I can and avoid roads as much as possible.
So far, I have not found any places to rest my head, but I do have the beginnings of a guitar for myself. It is times like this I am thankful for my father's insistence that I know how to do things myself. My old father, that is, the one I was born to on Earth. The Vale is a beautiful land, and the mountains are gorgeous. I never visited any mountains on Earth, but I did see photos on the internet. All I can say is that they are definitely better in person, they are quite humbling - they speak of power.
Re-reading that last sentence, I laughed at myself. It seems I am getting the hang of writing in English again. Westerosi, or the Common Tongue, is quite like English (structurally at least), both the spoken and written portions. So, I am confident that no one can read this and decide to hang me as a demon, which is quite comforting, as writing this now is very cathartic. At least now, in my old age, if someone were to hang me, there would be people to mourn me.
xxx
It was a bad day all around. The Vale turned out to be quite full, both with peasants and attentive lords. I was able to pick up four younger cattle for a good price, and they seem to be a different breed than those in King's Landing. The locals don't have them named, so I've taken to calling them Highland Cows. Creative, I know. That's about all the good news. I was travelling along the northern coast of the Vale, keeping away from the mountains and any villages, but as I got closer to the Riverlands, the number of people increased. And with those people, bandits.
When it came down to it, I was lucky, I suppose. I had left my horse, cattle, and my two new dogs harnessed in the woods, while I went off to hunt. I had succeeded in bringing down a deer, the first time I had in almost a week, so I was in a good mood. I had yet to unstring my bow, as I kept it slung over my shoulder so that I could drag the deer back to camp. However, as I neared, I could hear a course laugh and some talking. I dropped the deer and grabbed an arrow, one of the few I had remaining. And did my best to sneak up to camp, and when I finally was able to see the clearing, my heart sank. I saw two men going through my wagon, and both had swords. One of them even had a few bits of armor.
By this time, I was a bit hardened against death – at least I had thought so. Much more so than I had been on Earth because King's Landing was a brutal place. However, I had never actually killed anyone myself. I was terrified. I knew that these men were like to take everything I had and would probably stab me while they were at it. I knew that. But I still had these thoughts, these doubts, should I kill these men? Did I have the right? Surely prison would be good enough? Even as I thought these things, I knew it was foolish, and that I needed to act.
The one with armor had is back to me, standing on the ground in front of the wagon, while the other was standing on top holding my prototype still. I laid out a few arrows on the ground in front of me so I could shoot quickly. I had never tried to shoot rapidly before, but with all the use that I had been getting out of my bow the past few months, I prayed my skill would see me through. I grabbed my first arrow and drew back and aimed for the man on the ground. His back was unarmored, and my aim was true. He went down with a strangled scream as I picked up my second arrow. The man on top turned around to see his partner falling, and by the time he saw me, I was drawing back the arrow. With a quick jump, he dove over the side of the wagon, but his foot caught on the side, and he went sprawling to the ground. My arrow missed, but I quickly drew another and fired it. It caught the second man in the throat, and he died on the ground.
I drew my fourth arrow, and cautiously approached the first man. I could see his hand trying to move, but he was otherwise motionless. As I walked around him, I could see him looking at me. He was in great pain, but quickly dying. It looked like my arrow must have hit his spine, because though he could move his mouth and hand, nothing else seemed to move. Blood was dripping out of his mouth, and he was making a crying noise from his throat. Tears ran down his face, I almost froze at the sight, and was drawn in by his pain. Instead, I drew my knife and gave him what mercy I could offer. I slowly stood up and looked around when I noticed that everything seemed strangely quiet. I looked over to my animals and saw the two dogs seemed to be barking.
In a rush, my senses came back to me, and I could hear the barking. I fell to my knees and vomited. My head felt like someone stuffed it full of cotton, but my nerves felt on fire. I couldn't make sense of it. I know not how long I laid there. Eventually, I noticed, the dogs had gone quiet, and darkness started to fall. I forced myself to stand and move on. I wouldn't let this beat me; I had won. I had killed, and I had earned my place in this world. I would not roll over for people like this; I would carve out a place for myself. Welcome to Westeros.
xxx
Westerosi knew how to build castles. When Winterfell came into view, I marveled at its size and construction, and I could only hope my presence would be welcomed. My nervousness in the time leading up to this moment only increased, and my stomach felt like it was revolting, but I forced myself to continue. I still wasn't sure how to approach this, but I felt Winterfell was the place to see where I could make a home for myself. Just in time, too, as the word in the towns that I passed through was that spring should be approaching, and I wanted to get to my new home and make the most of the season (or rather what past for seasons in Westeros).
As I approached the castle, the guards at the gate perked up and approached me, "Hold there! State your business."
"Looking to talk to someone about buying a farm or some land, but I don't know who to talk to."
The guards looked to each other, then shrugged. "Wait here; I'll tell the Castellan you are here. He'll sort you out."
As the one guard walked away, I walked back over to my wagon and started to give some feed to my animals, which had grown to include some chickens and even a couple of pigs. I ended up waiting for a little over an hour, which didn't help my nervousness, but it was understandable as I wasn't very important.
I saw an older, important-looking man walking over to me, and I straightened up to greet him.
He waved off my greeting, and cut straight to the point, "So I hear you are looking to buy land? Which lord do you serve?"
"Well, Ser, my father was a merchant down in King's Landing, and my mother was a Lady's maid before she was let go. My mother was a Northerner before she died when I was but a babe, and my father died only in the past year. I had hoped to leave the crowds of King's Landing and set myself up on a nice quiet farm."
The Castellan grunted his understanding, "Ah, wanted to get away from those Southerners' eh? So, coming back to your mother's homeland then. Blood will always tell. Well, there's not much space around Wintertown, you'd have to go pretty far." The Castellan looked thoughtful.
I interjected, "Well Ser, I had hoped to find some land north of the Stoney Shore? Possibly southwest of the Wolfswood, along a river?"
The Castellan looked thoughtful and quickly came to a decision, "It's possible, but not my decision. I will speak with Lord Stark tonight about it. Come back tomorrow, mid-morning, and I'll have an answer for you then."
With that, he strode off back into the castle. I spent the night outside the town, and when I came back the next morning, the Castellan looked happy enough. He told me that Lord Stark accepted my location, and I pulled out my map, and he marked my new home for me. There was no need to buy the land, so long as I swore fealty to Lord Stark. Since there were not many people in the area, I didn't have any set borders. Although he mentioned, that might change if more people moved there, I wasn't very worried.
He told me that there was a caravan headed off in two weeks to collect some taxes and deal with other issues. I was free to follow along with them a part of the way.
After I thanked him and swore fealty, I headed back into town to buy what I needed. He had mentioned the closest blacksmith, and other tradesmen, to my new home and it was quite distant. So I was determined to try and buy everything I needed.
From a new wagon to nails, and other tools, I gathered everything I could. I was determined not to forget anything, as I knew I would not be able to get it for a long time. The next two weeks passed quickly.
When the caravan finally set off, and I was headed towards the rest of my life, things were finally beginning to look up for me.