The wind cut through the black wool of Landry Flowers' cloak, biting into his skin like a thousand icy needles. He shifted on his perch atop the Wall, the frozen expanse of the North stretching beyond the horizon. Though he'd stood watch a thousand times before, the cold never stopped being an unwelcome companion. He'd grown used to many things on the Wall—hunger, long nights, the suffocating silence—but the cold always reminded him that he didn't belong here. He belonged in the Reach, among vineyards and golden fields, not frozen wastelands and endless gray skies.
But he wasn't a lord's son, just a bastard of the Reach. His noble father had been kind enough to send him off to the Wall instead of killing him, after catching Landry between the sheets with his daughter. "Family honor demands a sacrifice," the old man had said, as if sending Landry to the edge of the world were a reasonable price for a moment's pleasure. So at sixteen, Landry had been packed off to Castle Black, and he'd been a brother ever since.
Back then, the Night's Watch had been a sad thing—more ruins than order, held together by old oaths and desperation. Castles along the Wall—like Eastwatch-by-the-Sea and the Shadow Tower—were abandoned, and the few men who still served were the worst of the Seven Kingdoms' filth: rapists, thieves, and disgraced knights. The Wall itself stood in ancient splendor, but it felt like a tomb for forgotten men.
Then Eden came.
Landry could still remember the first time the Edenite Seekers marched north from their newly built fortress in Skane—Skigal. There were rumors, wild ones, that the Edenites had magic, or worse, something even more dangerous: knowledge. They built Skigal, and it was no mere fortress—it was a city, with its towering walls of gleaming steel and streets warmed by underground fires. The Edenites claimed it was only a training outpost for their soldiers, but to the men of the North, it looked like something out of legend.
"Bloody Seekers," grumbled Ser Borros, the hulking veteran who had been with the Watch nearly as long as Landry. "They say this place is 'harsh weather training,' but I'd love to see how those pampered pricks handle a proper blizzard."
Landry gave him a crooked grin. "Better than us, probably. I've seen one of them lads stand still in a snowstorm for six hours straight without even shivering."
Borros snorted. "That's 'cause they've got all that Edenite tech under their armor. It's not bravery—it's cheating."
The two men stood on the Wall, watching as a squad of Seekers marched through the courtyard below. Their gleaming armor reflected the winter sun like mirrors, and their breath didn't steam in the air the way a normal man's would. The Seekers were always calm, always in control, and they made the Black Brothers feel like little more than peasants in worn-out boots.
"Better than the old days," Borros muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Back when half the bloody brothers were criminals, and the other half were dead."
He wasn't wrong. Before Eden's arrival, the Wall had barely been manned. Now, the Watch was full again, thanks to the Church of Eden. They had declared that joining the Watch was a holy duty, a calling for any good Catholic. That had changed everything. Young men from all over the Seven Kingdoms flocked to the Wall, eager to serve. It wasn't the same kind of brotherhood it used to be, but Landry wasn't complaining. He was just glad they had warm food and more than two men to patrol a gate.
---
The fortunes of the North had changed as well. With the establishment of Skigal, trade between Eden and the North boomed. Eden's food ships arrived like clockwork, bringing grain, vegetables, and meat in such abundance that no one in the North ever went hungry again. Diseases that had once ravaged entire villages were now nothing more than inconveniences, thanks to Edenite medicines that worked like miracles.
In return, the North provided furs—a commodity Eden needed for its insatiable fashion industries—and vast reserves of oil. No one in the North truly understood what the Edenites did with the oil, only that they paid handsomely for it. "Plastic," the Seekers had once muttered when asked, as if that explained anything.
The prosperity had changed the North. Landry remembered a time when the people of Winterfell wore rags and counted turnips to make it through the winter. Now, the streets were filled with trade goods, and even the poorest farmer could afford a wool cloak. The old noble families struggled to adjust to the new world, where councils of elected officials governed instead of kings and lords.
---
"Oi, Landry!" a voice shouted from the courtyard below. "You're needed! The masked freaks are back!"
Landry groaned. The TTOS operatives. He climbed down from the Wall, boots crunching in the snow as he descended the steps to the courtyard. The TTOS agents were a mystery, even to the Seekers. They wore sleek black armor and strange white masks, never spoke unless absolutely necessary, and no one knew what their mission was. All the Black Brothers knew was that wherever the TTOS agents went, trouble followed.
"Creepy bastards," Borros muttered as he followed Landry. "I saw one of 'em just staring at a snowflake once. Just… standing there. For hours. Who does that?"
"Probably trying to communicate with it," Landry said, half-joking.
When they reached the courtyard, they found two masked operatives standing motionless, watching a group of wildling prisoners huddled in the snow. The wildlings had been caught trying to scale the Wall, and now sat in chains, defiant but shivering.
One of the wildlings—a young woman with tangled red hair—spat on the ground. "Slaves," she hissed at the operatives. "You're all slaves. You think your masters from Eden care about you? You're just pieces on a board."
Landry felt a knot tighten in his chest. He wasn't sure if she was wrong. Life on the Wall had improved, but it had come at a cost. Eden's influence was everywhere, and sometimes it felt like they weren't men anymore, just cogs in a machine they couldn't understand.
The TTOS operatives exchanged silent glances, their masks betraying no emotion. Without a word, they turned and walked away, their boots crunching softly in the snow.
"What the hell are they even doing here?" Borros asked, glaring after them.
"No idea," Landry muttered. "And I'm not about to ask."
As the operatives disappeared into the shadows, Landry let out a long breath. The world was changing—the North, the Wall, everything. But some things stayed the same. No matter how many wonders Eden brought, life on the Wall was still a fight—against the cold, against the wildlings, and sometimes, against the man beside you.
And Landry Flowers knew he'd keep fighting until the end. Because the Wall was his home now—and there was no going back.