Maekar rode into Maekarton on his destrier named Red. Horse Riding was not something he had done in his previous life, but here it came to him naturally. His uncles would tell him it was something he inherited from his mother Lyanna.
As he took in the sights of the town, a sense of pride and fulfillment filled him. Since his last visit, Maekarton had transformed significantly, blossoming under his careful planning and vision. Behind him, a retinue of guards assigned to him by his uncle as his escort followed closely, with Luwin and Ros among them.
The layout of Maekarton was meticulously planned. The town was divided into three districts: the residential area where workers and their families lived. Homes were built with sturdy, locally sourced materials, designed to withstand the harsh northern climate. These neighborhoods were organized in neat rows and provided a high quality of life for the people.
The industrial area was near the river to utilize its power, so the paper mills could process large amounts of timber into paper. The finished product was then taken by the river in barges to White Harbor, from there shipped to the free cities an to the south. It was also the place where the new textile factories would be constructed.
The final district was the commercial and administrative areas. It was centrally located, allowing easy access for residents and visitors. This area featured shops, markets, brothels, and taverns, catering to the daily needs and leisure activities of the town's population. Nearby, the administrative buildings stood, housing the offices responsible for managing Maekarton's growth and operations.
He reached the center of the town in front of the mayor's office. Mayor was a title he asked his uncle to create; it was given to a man named Bjorn, who was already a community leader among the local villages in the area before they were combined into the town.
It seemed the entire town was gathered here to see him.
As he got off his horse; they bowed deeply to him.
"Please, everyone, rise," he urged with a warm smile, gesturing to the townspeople to stand.
Bjorn approached him; he was a robust man with a commanding presence. "M'prince, all's set for you," he said, his voice carrying over the gathering. "The new manse's near done. Ain't all furnished yet, but it's right livable if you choose to stay."
He had ordered a mansion built a little distance away from the town for his use and for his family from Winterfell to use if they traveled here, but he would not be able to use the mansion now as he was going to leave immediately.
"Bjorn, I am sorry, but I will not be staying," he responded, his announcement sparking a flurry of murmurs and expressions of concern among the gathered crowd.
"M'prince, I thought—" Bjorn began, a hint of confusion and disappointment in his voice.
"I know, I know," Maekar quickly interjected, raising his hand to quell the rising chatter. "But my uncle has tasked me with traveling to Bear Island to address the issue of wildlings attacking the area."
This revelation stirred the crowd even more, their murmurs turning into expressions of admiration and respect.
"Very brave,"
"A prince of the people,"
"The prince is a true ruler,"
He basked in the praise and respect of the smallfolk.
"Then I wish you a safe journey, m'prince," Bjorn said, his voice carrying sincere hope for Maekar's well-being.
Maekar then gestured towards Luwin and Ros, who were standing behind him.
"They will stay here, helping with the new machinery that will arrive soon. Help them in all matters," he commanded Bjorn, ensuring that his absence wouldn't hinder the progress they were making.
Bjorn bowed deeply, his voice steady. "Yes, m'prince. I'll serve 'em just as I serve you."
"Good," he acknowledged with a nod, satisfied with Bjorn's pledge of support. Turning, he climbed back onto his horse, ready to depart.
Looking over to Luwin and Ros, he gave them a reassuring smile. "See you in a few months,"
Luwin gave him a nod and Ros blew him a kiss. With his escort assembled and ready, he rode out of Maekarton.
.
.
.
They had been traveling for a week now, traversing the dense, shadowy expanse of the Wolfswood.
He loved the beauty of the North. He had traveled all over as his uncle took him along whenever he traveled to see the other lords. The only place he had not been to was the Wall, something he hoped he would see during this trip, as wildlings were involved.
They were a day from Deepwood Motte; from there, they would travel by sea to Bear Island.
One of the scouts, riding at the forefront of the group, abruptly halted, causing the entire procession to come to a standstill.
"What is it, Will?" Maekar called out, his voice steady despite the hint of concern.
"There's movement in the woods, m'prince," Will replied, pointing toward an elevated position where the underbrush rustled suspiciously.
Just then, another guard from his side shouted, his voice carrying a clear note of alarm, "WILDLINGS!"
Instantly, the calm of the forest was shattered as everyone unsheathed their swords. Maekar, more comfortable with his weapon of choice, took up his trusty spear.
Wildlings burst from the cover of trees—twenty ragged, fierce figures charging, screaming like savages with their crude weapons drawn. They descended upon them with reckless abandon.
He spurred his horse forward to meet the onslaught. His training and instincts took over as he maneuvered his steed, the spear in his hand a deadly extension of his will. He thrust and parried, his movements fluid and precise, each jab of his spear fending off or downing an attacker. Around him, his guards engaged the wildlings, their swords flashing in the muted light that filtered through the dense canopy.
Despite their numbers, the wildlings were undisciplined, their attacks more fervent than strategic. Maekar and his retinue moved with lethal efficiency that gradually turned the tide in their favor.
He thrust the spear into one of the wildlings' chests but was attacked by another wildling from his side, which caught his horse off balance, sending both him and Red tumbling to the forest floor.
Scrambling to his feet, spear still in hand, he faced his assailant. The wildling, large and looming, wielded a crude axe, swinging it with wild, powerful arcs.
"Come meet your end boy" the large man screamed slashing at him.
Maekar dodged a particularly vicious swing, feeling the whoosh of air as the blade sliced near his face.
He adopted a defensive stance. He parried the next few attacks with the shaft of his spear, each block forcing the wildling back. Finding an opening, he thrust forward, his spear finding its mark. The wildling grunted, stumbled, and fell, defeated.
Breathing heavily, he surveyed the scene. The forest floor was littered with bodies; they had killed them all.
His heart still pounding from the adrenaline, he wiped his brow and looked around at his men. "Anyone hurt?" he called out.
Harald, the man who led his escort, approached him. "Everyone's alive, but Will is hurt bad," he said, panting.
"Help him any way you can and make him ready for travel. We ride hard to Deepwood Motte; the Glovers will help with Will's injuries," he ordered. Harald bowed and left to Will's side.
Wildlings this deep into the North, he thought. They were only supposed to be in Bear Island. Something was wrong, and he would need to get to the bottom of this.
'The Glovers will have answers,' he thought as he approached Red. The horse was still alive, much to his relief.
"Thank the gods you are safe, boy," he said, petting the horse.
"Come on, boy. It seems we have a mystery on our hands here," he said, leading Red toward the others who were gathered near Will.