Dragon Hidden in the Wolf's Shadow - Chapter - 48 (Patreon)

The waters of the Mander River stretched out wide and calm beneath the small ship carrying the Tyrell family and their retinue. Golden roses of House Tyrell fluttered on the flagpole at the stern, though there was little wind to propel them. Lord Mace Tyrell stood at the bow, clutching the railing with a firm grip as the vessel rocked gently in the water. His face was set in a grimace, and a sickly hue had already settled upon his cheeks. He hated sea travel.

“This is a dreadful way to travel,” Mace muttered, his voice heavy with displeasure. “A man was meant to ride on the land, not float on water like some floundering fish.”

His complaints had been constant ever since they’d boarded the ship back at Highgarden, and though the journey was expected to be quicker by water, Mace Tyrell was no fan of the sea. His discomfort only worsened as the ship made its way down the river, passing through the Mouth of the Mander and venturing out into the open waters that led toward Seagard and, eventually, to the North.

Behind him, Lady Alerie Tyrell sat comfortably in the shade of a canopy that had been set up to shield her from the sun. She smiled faintly as her husband grumbled, though she’d heard the same complaints time and time again on any journey that involved water.

“You’ll survive this, Mace,” she said lightly, turning her attention back to the embroidery in her lap. “The sea isn’t going to swallow you whole.”

“I’d rather it did,” Mace retorted, casting a glance over his shoulder at the rest of their traveling party. “This is no way for a lord to travel. Land routes would’ve been more suitable for our purposes. The lords of the Reach weren’t meant for such indignities.”

But the land routes had been slow and treacherous, with bandits and unstable roads slowing down previous journeys. The decision to take the river and then the sea had been practical. Their destination—Moat Cailin, in the North—would be reached far faster this way, and it was safer. The need to reach the North quickly had outweighed Mace’s personal disdain for the sea.

“The seas are calm enough,” said Lord Tarly, who had taken his place further along the deck, standing with a few of his men. His eyes remained focused on the horizon, sharp and unyielding as ever. “Besides, you should be grateful. At least the Narrow Sea isn’t tearing us apart today.”

Mace grunted in response, his discomfort growing as the ship made its way farther into the open waters. The horizon ahead grew wider as they left the familiarity of the Reach behind, and the sounds of the bustling ports were replaced by the eerie quiet of the ocean.

“I’ve always hated these northern waters,” Mace continued, fidgeting with his cloak, though it wasn’t cold. “Too unpredictable, too wild. Give me the rolling hills of the Reach any day.”

The rest of their retinue—guards, fellow Reach lords, and a few merchants—were spread out across the deck, some playing cards, others talking quietly as the ship made its slow and steady progress. The towering presence of Lord Tarly lent a sense of order, but even he seemed out of place on the water. This was the first time in years that House Tyrell had ventured so far north by sea.

As they sailed further to North, the waters widened even further, and the sea breeze became sharper, carrying with it the salty scent of the ocean. The ship adjusted its course to sail toward Seagard, where they would briefly dock before continuing their voyage toward the Riverlands and beyond. The Riverlands had become a vital part of their journey—a necessary stopping point before they could continue to Moat Cailin.

“We’ll stop at Seagard soon,” announced the ship’s captain, a weathered man with a deep tan and a steady hand. “Restock and prepare for the final leg of the journey.”

Mace gave a curt nod, clearly relieved at the idea of stepping back onto solid ground, even if only for a short while. “Good. The sooner we’re off this cursed boat, the better.”

Lord Fossoway, another of the Reach lords traveling with them, leaned against the rail beside Mace. “You’ll have to endure a little longer, my lord. But rest assured, the seas grow calmer once we pass Seagard.”

“That’s little comfort, Fossoway,” Mace muttered, looking out at the endless stretch of water that surrounded them. “Little comfort indeed.”

The ship swayed gently as it cut through the calm waters, heading northward with the full Tyrell family aboard. Lord Mace Tyrell had retreated to his quarters for some respite from the sea, leaving the deck to the others. Lady Alerie Tyrell sat with her daughter, Margaery, beneath a wide canopy, enjoying the sun’s warmth. Meanwhile, Garlan, Loras, and Willas Tyrell gathered near the railing, gazing out at the distant horizon.

Seated with them was Samwell Tarly, who, despite his shy nature, had been brought along for the journey because of his familiarity with the North. Sam had spent time in the North as a boy, and his father, Lord Randyll Tarly, had arranged for him to foster there, hoping to toughen him up. Though the experience had been more than successful in Randyll’s eyes, Sam had learned much about the North—and more specifically, about Jon Frost, the enigmatic Lord of Moat Cailin.

"Sam, you've been up North before," Willas Tyrell began, his voice curious but kind, as always. "What can you tell us about Jon Frost? He’s become quite the figure of interest in recent years."

Sam shifted nervously in his seat, casting a glance toward Lady Olenna Tyrell, who sat nearby, her sharp eyes watching the conversation with interest. "Well, Jon Frost is... different from the other northern lords. He’s not like Lord Stark. He’s, uh, much more... ruthless, I suppose, but also fair."

"Ruthless?" Loras asked, intrigued. "I’ve heard stories about him leading the wildlings south of the Wall. Is that true?"

Sam nodded quickly. "Yes, he did. He convinced the wildlings to bend the knee and brought them into his lands. They live under his rule now, as part of the North, but it wasn’t easy. There was a lot of fighting at first. He had to... well, show them that he could protect them, and in return, they had to obey his laws."

"Impressive," Garlan said, leaning against the railing. "But how did he manage to control them? The wildlings are notorious for their refusal to follow any lord’s rule."

Sam swallowed, clearly uncomfortable with being the center of attention. "Jon Frost is... strong. He’s a warrior, but more than that, he understands people. He knows how to give them what they need while keeping them in line. The wildlings respect him because he doesn’t treat them like enemies. He treats them like people who need a home and safety. But if they cross him..." Sam trailed off, his expression growing grim. "Well, they don’t cross him twice."

Lady Olenna Tyrell chuckled softly at that. "So, the young lord is not to be trifled with. Good. The North is not a place for the weak."

Margaery, who had been listening intently, spoke up. "What is the North like, Sam? I’ve never been there, but I hear it’s a harsh and unforgiving place. How do the people live, especially under Jon Frost’s rule?"

Sam seemed to relax slightly at Margaery’s gentle tone. "It is harsh, my lady, but the people are strong. They have to be. The winters are long, and the land isn’t easy to farm. But under Jon Frost, things have improved. He’s brought new farming techniques to the North, and he started a shipping company that’s made trade easier. Northern goods are now being sold in cities all over Westeros. He’s made the North... well, it’s flourishing, in a way it hasn’t for a long time."

Loras raised an eyebrow. "So, he’s not just a warrior. He’s a businessman, too."

"Yes," Sam agreed, nodding. "He’s made Moat Cailin the center of trade in the North. It’s not just about defending the land anymore. He’s building something bigger—an economy that can compete with the southern lords. And the people love him for it. He’s given them stability."

Willas, ever the thoughtful one, stroked his chin. "It seems Jon Frost is more than just a lord. He’s a leader with vision. The North has always been seen as cold and barren, but it sounds like he’s turning it into something much more valuable."

Lady Olenna gave a small smile. "A lord who understands how to wield both sword and coin is a rare thing. He sounds like someone worth keeping an eye on."

Margaery, who had been listening with growing interest, asked, "And what of his character, Sam? He’s built a kingdom and made peace with wildlings, but what kind of man is he?"

Sam hesitated for a moment, clearly trying to find the right words. "He’s... quiet, most of the time. He doesn’t speak unless he has something important to say. But when he does speak, people listen. He’s not cruel, but he doesn’t tolerate weakness, either. I think... I think he’s a man who’s had to survive in a world that’s tried to break him, and now he’s making sure it never does again."

Garlan gave a thoughtful nod. "It sounds like he’s earned the loyalty of his people, then. A man like that doesn’t need to shout or bluster. His actions speak for him."

Sam smiled a little, clearly relieved that the conversation had shifted away from him personally. "Yes, exactly. He’s not like other lords, but he doesn’t need to be. The North respects him because he’s proven himself over and over."

Loras leaned back, crossing his arms. "I’m looking forward to meeting him. A man who can tame wildlings and build an empire out of the North? That’s someone worth knowing."

Lady Olenna gave a sharp nod. "Indeed. And if Robert Baratheon is as interested in Jon Frost as we’ve heard, there may be opportunities for the Tyrells in the North as well. Perhaps a marriage alliance with one of our own?"

Margaery blushed slightly, but said nothing. Her grandmother’s ambitions were always clear, though she had yet to voice any specific plans regarding Jon Frost.

As the ship sailed on, cutting through the waters that would eventually lead them to the Riverlands, the conversation drifted to other topics—southern politics, the Reach’s wealth, and the state of King’s Landing. But the North, and Jon Frost, remained at the forefront of their thoughts.

The sun dipped lower in the sky as the ship sailed on, and soon the distant silhouette of Seagard came into view, its towering walls and watchtowers rising against the backdrop of the Riverlands’ shoreline. The sight of the port brought a sense of relief to the traveling party, particularly to Mace, who had begun to grow pale from the constant rocking of the ship.

“I’ll never understand how sailors manage this life,” Mace muttered again, watching as the crew prepared to dock. “Give me land beneath my feet any day.”

The Tyrell ship glided into the bustling harbor of Seagard, its sails catching the last light of the setting sun. The once-sleepy port town was now a hub of activity, with ships coming and going from all corners of the realm. The booming trade between the North and the western regions of Westeros had transformed Seagard, and the Malisters were reaping the benefits.

As the Tyrell family stepped off the ship, they were greeted by Lord Jason Mallister himself, a broad smile on his face. Beside him stood his daughter, Alysanne Mallister, a beautiful young gitlwith dark hair and a keen gaze. She curtsied gracefully as the Tyrells disembarked, her eyes lingering on the party as they took in their surroundings.

“Welcome to Seagard,” Lord Mallister said, his voice warm. “I trust your journey was pleasant?”

Mace Tyrell, still shaking off his distaste for sea travel, gave a noncommittal grunt, while Lady Olenna took charge of the conversation with her usual sharpness. "As pleasant as can be expected on such waters, Lord Mallister. Though I suspect the roads will be far more to our liking."

Lord Mallister chuckled. "Indeed. The roads from Seagard to the North are much improved thanks to the efforts of Jon Frost. He has invested a great deal in this region, making Seagard an essential link between Moat Cailin and the western parts of the kingdom. His castle north of here has strengthened our defenses, and the new bridge he commissioned has made travel and trade far more efficient."

Samwell Tarly, who had been quietly observing, stepped forward at the mention of the bridge. "Jon's work has really transformed the area," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "The castle was constructed with northern stone, and the bridge was designed to withstand the harshest winters. It was quite an ambitious project."

Lord Mallister nodded, his eyes twinkling. "And you, Samwell, were the one who helped organize the construction, were you not? It’s not every day we see such progress in such a short time."

Sam blushed at the attention. "I—I just helped where I could. The people of Seagard and the North did most of the work."

"Modest, as ever," Garlan Tyrell remarked with a grin. "But from what we’ve heard, the goods from Moat Cailin now flow freely through Seagard, and the trade is benefiting everyone."

Lord Mallister smiled broadly. "That it is. With the new routes established, we’re seeing goods from Moat Cailin—honey, coffee, furs—being transported westward to Lannisport and beyond. Our coffers have never been fuller, and we owe much of that to Lord Frost’s vision. The trade has also made it possible for us to strike up new alliances. In fact..." His eyes flickered to his daughter for a moment before continuing, "Lord Stark and I have agreed upon a marriage alliance between Young Brandon Stark and my daughter, Alysanne. It’s an exciting prospect for both houses."

Alysanne smiled demurely at the mention of her future marriage, though there was a spark of pride in her eyes. "Bran is very nice. I look forward to joining him in the North."

Margaery Tyrell, who had been quietly watching the exchange, stepped forward with a warm smile. "It sounds like you’ll have a grand life, Lady Alysanne. The Starks are a noble and honorable house, and I’m sure the bond between your families will only grow stronger."

Lady Olenna’s shrewd eyes took in the dynamics, ever calculating the benefits such a marriage could bring. She said nothing, but her approval was clear in her sharp nod toward Alysanne.

As they prepared to move onward from the harbor, Lord Mallister led the group toward waiting horses and carriages, all ready to transport them northward. "The journey to the North will take some time, but with the new roads, it’s far more pleasant than it used to be. And, of course, the goods from Moat Cailin that travel this route have made the roads safer, with more regular patrols from both the North and Seagard."

As the group began their overland journey, Samwell found himself riding beside Garlan and Loras, the younger Tyrell curious about the state of the North.