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Leaving her to her meditation, Nox gave her one last passing glance through the Force before leaving her alone. He had no fear of her not doing exactly as he'd instructed. She'd made that mistake only once before. And he made sure she fully understood what it meant to disrespect her Master in the future. And since then, she'd not once failed to do as instructed.
Descending through the Tower, Nox passed by the empty chambers that would soon belong to the two new initiates, as well as the ones belonging to Bethany and her daughter before making his way across a short bridge and entering the First Keep.
Much like the once 'Broken Tower', the First Keep had been renovated. Though, granted, less than a third of the Keep had been cleaned up and made useable. And that third had been divided up into staging rooms for the printing press, apartments for glassmakers and smiths, as well as a public bath. In time, Nox hoped to renovate the entirety of the First Keep so that the upper layers were primarily apartments for the workers, while the lower levels would become production facilities. He was still trying to introduce the idea of somewhat modernized manufacturing to Lord Stark and the rest of the North. But they were starting to come around to his way of thinking. Especially as they began to see just how efficient some of the processes could become.
Walking out of the First Keep, his ears immediately picked up on the sounds of sparring and loud voices coming just a short distance away. Knowing exactly what was going on, Nox walked towards the commotion. The training grounds of Winterfell were near standing room only as hundreds of men of the North trained under the careful eye of the Captain of the Guard, Ser Jory. Keeping his distance to not interrupt the training, Nox reached out with his senses to get a better look at how the men were faring.
Unfortunately, this was one aspect that Nox had not been completely successful in. While many aspects of his training program were being utilized, it was nowhere near what Nox thought to be enough. He'd wanted Ned to form a professional army that numbered in the tens of thousands. But unfortunately, that just wasn't feasible. Mostly due to the current mindset of Westeros as a whole. Lords had Knights that they could call upon and levies that could be raised during times of war. But no Lord, not even the King, had a true standing army of professionals. That, and the fact that the North simply couldn't afford to keep such an army paid for a long time all but killed his first outline.
But Stark had seen the value in much of what he'd suggested. So, he'd implemented a new order. All men and boys of age that lived on the Stark land would attend military training for one month each year. For that month they would live in Winterfell and train day and night under the guidance of Ser Jory, Ser Rodrik, and even Nox himself when he had the time. It wasn't perfect, nor anywhere close to what Nox wanted, but it was better than nothing. At least now, when the time came to call the banners to war, the levies would at least know the difference between their polearm and their cock.
But now, with winter fully set in, there were many in Winterfell that had nothing but time on their hands. Which meant more time to train the men. Currently, the men and boys were doing circuits around the obstacle course Nox had designed, and then ran when Jory said that such a course could not be done in the any reasonable amount of time. "Come on, you lackwits!" Ser Jory yelled, picking up a man who'd just fallen to the ground and forcing him to keep moving. "You're men of the North! Not some silly southern pussy! Now get your asses moving!"
'Well, at least they're actually managing to complete the course. Although the amount of time it took for them to realize that they would need to help one another to complete the course is more than a little worrying. But, hey, better late than never, I guess.'
Deciding not to interfere with the drills, Nox quietly made his way away from the First Keep and towards the godswood. Despite the changes to the once Broken Tower and the First Keep, relatively little else had changed throughout the rest of Winterfell since his arrival over two years ago. The only real noticeable difference in the layout of the castle was the extra glass garden behind the main keep, and the expansion of the forges to accommodate the glass smiths and metal smiths that'd begun making their way towards Winterfell looking for work.
Passing by the great keep and the glass gardens, Nox made his way into the godswood, the two guards stationed just outside the entrance not even bothering to stop him as he passed them by. Making his way through the trees, Nox wasn't surprised as he made it to the weirwood in the center of the godswood and found that he was not the first one to arrive. Jon was already there, dressed in training clothes and holding a weighted training blade in his hands as he moved through the steps of Form III Soresu, one of Nox's preferred forms due to its ability for defense and to allow him time to utilize the Force during combat.
Staying out of sight, Nox observed the boy as he went through the motions. Of the four he was training now, well three really, and only two of them officially as Theon unfortunately had next to no Force sensitivity unlike his sister. Jon was without a doubt the most promising pupil he had. Outside of his high Force aptitude, which was well more than enough to make him a favored student on Korriban, the boy had a drive to prove himself that far outmatched any of the others. And he knew exactly why that was. He wanted to cast aside the title of bastard that a select few in the castle made sure he was reminded of almost daily. He wanted to prove that he was more than that. And that desire to prove himself and the anger that festered at the title gave him the ability to progress at a rate that was almost astonishing.
"Left foot forward by six inches and angle your right arm down more during that sequence to help maintain your balance."
Jon stopped almost immediately, turning on his heel and bowing to him. "Master Nox."
Stepping out from the trees, Nox made his way towards his most promising acolyte. "Again."
Nox didn't need to clarify as Jon immediately began running through the Form again. As he went though, Nox would periodically make him hold certain positions or ask him questions as to why some moves were performed as they were, testing both the boy's stamina and his knowledge. After running through the entire Form twice more, Nox called a stop to the exercise. "Enough. Your brother and Theon have arrived as well as the others."
Turning his back on Jon, Nox faced towards the lone path that led through the godswood. Ned was walking in front of the group with Ser Rodrik next to him along with Theon and Robb. And behind them were fifteen men at arms that were carrying tourney blades and looked more than slightly nervous as to why they'd been allowed access to the godswood while Nox was instructing. It was no secret in Winterfell that Nox was instructing the boys, but in the past two years, no one had seen the boys use the Force at all. But today, that was going to change.
"Nox," Ned nodded to him in greeting before taking his customary place near the weirwood with Ser Rodrik following close behind him.
With the Lord of Winterfell moving away, the Stark men at arms awkwardly shifted in their place while Jon joined Robb and Theon in a line before Nox. As he did, he couldn't help but notice the slight spike in resentment that wafted off Theon. It was obvious to all that there was no love lost between Jon and Theon. Theon was older, larger, and the 'heir' to the Iron Islands. And in his mind that made him inherently better than anyone else, especially a 'bastard'. Yet Jon had managed to utterly defeat Theon in everything that the two boys competed in. Be it during their studies or in the yard under the watchful eye of Ser Rodrik.
"Today, you three will be sparring under my direction," Nox informed the three, garnering a spike of excitement from each of the boys. "And you will be using tourney blades today. Weighted tourney blades."
While Ser Rodrik was a competent teacher, he tended to almost…shelter the boys. At least he did in Nox's opinion. If it were up to him, the boys would be using live steel. But Ned had put a stop to that. It was tourney blades at the most, at least for now.
"Are we going to be sparring against one another, Master Nox?" Robb asked, nearly bouncing in place.
Nox's lips twitched upwards as he wondered just how long the boy's excitement would last. He intended today to be much like a training session under the blade masters of Korriban. In other words, pushing the boys to their limits and beyond. "Not at first." Nox explained motioning towards the fifteen men at arms behind them. "First, you will have to spar with the men behind you. First, one on one. Then, two on one. Then another round of two on one. The round will be over when you make a killing blow on your adversaries through whatever means you have available to you. After each fight, you will then make four laps around the perimeter of the godswood before returning to this spot and proceeding to the next fight. Once you have defeated all the men standing behind you, you will then spar against one another until there is only one of you left standing. And as for you men, should I believe that you are hesitating or taking it the slightest bit easy on them, you will face me. And I won't be holding back against you."
All three boys' eyes widened as they cast passing glances back at the men lined up behind them. "That's…That's impossible!" Theon almost yelled.
"Is it?" Nox asked, making the three boys shift their weight nervously as he pulled on the dark side of the Force and expanded his presence. "Then why am I wasting my time training you? 'Impossible' is merely a state of mind. But if you truly believe it, then the way out is that way and quit wasting my time."
"What's the matter, Greyjoy? Afraid you'll fall behind?" Jon taunted.
Theon scoffed. "You wish, bastard, just concerned you won't be able to keep up with us trueborn heirs is all."
Jon began moving towards Theon, nothing more than a slightly shifting of his weight, but he was stopped almost immediately as Robb held his hand out, stopping his brother. "Theon, don't call my brother a bastard," Robb, ever the peacekeeper between the two, said to the elder boy before turning towards Jon. "And, Jon, don't taunt him if you can't handle taunting back. You know he's just trying to get under your skin."
"Well-spoken, Robb," Nox congratulated the young man, who immediately preened up the rare compliment that Nox gave out. "Now, what are you three standing around here for? Get your asses moving before I start using your behinds as target practice."
He emphasized his words by raising his right hand and letting a small amount of Force lightning dance across his fingertips. While he wasn't as harsh as the Overseers on Korriban, mostly since he doubted Ned would approve of such treatment, he wasn't above giving his acolytes some motivation. One that all three had been the recipient of at some point and time. Nothing more than a slight jolt, but enough to not want it to happen again. The three boys nearly kicked up a cloud of dust amongst the snow as they hurried to gather a tourney blade from one of the men at arms.
As the boys took their positions, the men at arms wasted no time in attacking the young boys. None of them wanting to face the prospect of going against himself. 'Good,' Nox nodded, watching as the boys began fighting against their much larger and more skilled opponents. 'They need to push themselves and reach their limits if they're going to have any hope of surpassing them.'
Walking out of the small sept that had been built for her in Winterfell, Lady Catelyn Tully-Stark paused momentarily to tighten her hold on her heavy over cloak as she fought against the chill of the Northern air. Even after nearly ten years and two true winters in the North, she had not adjusted to the cold bite of the northern air as it kissed her skin. During these times she usually stayed to her rooms and would throw another log or two on the fire to fight against the cold. But today she couldn't. She'd received joyous news from the Maester earlier that day. Joyous. And terrifying. She was with child again. A blessing from the Seven. But at the same time, she was terrified. For while the Seven had blessed her with four, soon to be five, strong healthy children, the old gods of the North and the First Men had cursed her children with the taint of magic. So now she prayed and prayed to the gods of her family that the Seven would intervene and not allow the newest life growing within her to also be cursed with the taint of magic.
As she began her trek back to the great keep, she couldn't help but hear the hammering of anvils and the sound bellows blowing as the newly made glass was quenched. While she might despise the sorcerer for his unholy powers and his corruption of her children, even she could admit to his usefulness in helping to aid the North. But that, in and of itself, was another problem altogether. He was becoming too powerful. His influence amongst the Northern Lords and people was growing by the day. How long would it be before he was more influential than her husband? How long before he usurped her children's place as Lords and Ladies of the North? She knew in her heart that was exactly why the man was favoring the bastard so much. To give him a puppet to install so he could truly lead the North. But, unfortunately, her wolf husband did not share her concerns. One of frequent points of contention that had been arising between them as of late. But hopefully the child growing in her womb, a child she prayed would not be cursed like her other children, would be able to begin to heal the gap that had been forming between them.
"Lady Stark, I fear I must have words with you once more."
Turning, she found Septa Mordane making her way towards the small Sept from the direction of the great keep. From the time of day, and the look on the Septa's face, Cat knew exactly what the Septa wanted to talk to her about. "Very well," she nodded, motioning towards the Sept. "But let us have words inside, out of the cold."
The Septa nodded and obediently followed Cat into the Sept and out of the cold. While she appreciated what her husband did in building her this Sept so that she might pray to her gods, it was almost insultingly small. Just barely large enough for a handful of people to stand side by side along with the statues of the Father, Mother, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, and the Stranger.
"The girl has to leave Lady Stark!" Septa Mordane nearly shouted the moment the door shut behind the two of them. "She is no proper lady and never will be! Honestly, I don't know what the King was thinking sending her here. She should've been sent to the Silent Sisters the moment she stepped foot off those godless islands."
There was no need for the Septa to elaborate on just who she spoke of. Asha Greyjoy. The young girl who had become the bane of the Septa, and indeed Cat's, life. The girl absolutely refused to accept what was expected of her as a noble lady of the realm. She outright refused to dress properly, even going as far as burning the dresses Cat had delivered to her. Her manners were atrocious as she proved when she outdrank several guardsmen one night. And instead of performing proper womanly activities like sewing or learning how to manage a household, she instead constantly sought out the training grounds for a fight or she sought out the sorcerer to pester him to teach her. Which, thankfully, he had refused.
Under normal circumstances, Cat would've had the girl banished from Winterfell within the first moon of her arrival. And indeed, she had tried, suggesting to her Lord Husband that the girl would do better in another house, far away. Like the Mormonts, for example. But her husband had refused her request. Stating that it was the King's desire that he raise the two Greyjoy children as his wards, and that was what he intended to do.
After failing to rid Winterfell of her presence, Cat had done everything in her power to try and lessen the girl's potential to corrupt her two young daughters. But in that, she was only partially successful. Sansa, her rapidly growing and beautiful red wolf, was becoming a fine example of a true lady. Her manners were perfect. Her singing was excellent. Her sewing was better than even Cat's. Truly, one day she would make a southern lord a great wife. Perhaps she would even be graced with becoming the next queen. And, indeed, that was a possibility with her husband's close friendship with the King. And, best of all, despite the sorcerer trying to tempt and corrupt her by saying she had the capability to learn magic like her elder brother and the bastard, she at least had the fortitude to resist the temptation. A fact that she thanked the Seven for daily.
Arya, however, was the complete opposite of her sister. Arya had a near obsession with Asha and seemed to idolize her, much to Cat's dismay. Her little girl had even taken to trying to forgo wearing proper women's clothes, until Cat had put a hard stop to that, which had caused quite the tantrum from her younger daughter. Then there was the fact that, unlike Sansa, Arya was proud and excited with the fact that she had the ability to use magic and was pestering herself and Ned almost daily about when she would be able to join the boys in their training. Gods blessed; Ned had refused so far. But she knew that it was only a matter of time before he relented and allowed her to be trained. When that happened and when word got out, she would never be able to attain a marriage to a proper lord.
"What did Asha do this time, Septa Mordane?" Cat asked, bringing herself back to the present and putting the despair she felt with her younger daughter to the side for now.
"I told her that she needed to start behaving as a proper noble lady of the realm. Or I would punish her accordingly to try and prevent her behavior from affecting young Sansa and Arya." Septa Mordane said, her head held high as she did. "And she responded with the most vulgar of insults."
Shaking her head, Cat was at a loss. She could discipline the girl, and would do so, but she knew that it would be a fruitless venture. Perhaps if Asha had arrived at Winterfell when she was still Theon's age, she could've molded her into a proper lady. But now it was far too late for the girl. 'May the new gods watch over her future husband.' "I will speak to my Lord Husband about the matter and see to it that the girl apologizes and is properly disciplined for her words."
The Septa nodded, seemingly pleased with the decision before moving aside so that Cat could leave. Once outside, she immediately tightened her hold on her cloak to fight against the cold. Looking around the courtyard, Cat noticed the denizens of Winterfell going about their duties, few seemingly bothered by the cold or the wind. 'Even after all this time, do the gods of the North still reject me?' She wondered idly to herself as she shivered. 'Is this because their curse for not being able to love the bastard? To give him the name I promised them? No! I will not allow the thought.'
Holding her head high while trying to not to show just how much the cold bothered her, Cat set about to find her husband. Entering the great keep, Cat let out a breath of relief as the warm air of the interior of the keep hit her. 'Not quite the same as sitting before a warm fire, but better than nothing,' she thought, setting off towards her husband's solar. But to her dismay when she arrived, she found the room empty. 'Where could he be at this hour?'
Stepping out of the solar, she spotted a servant walking away from her. "You, girl. Where is my Lord Husband?"
When the servant girl turned around, her arms laden with scrolls, Cat just barely fought back groan at her misfortune. 'Of course, it would be the sorcerer's whore. Nyra.'