House of the wolf

After I spoke with Greg and sent him away, I sat down with Tobho Mott the mysterious blacksmith I met in Kings Landing.

 

Remembering the giant Wierwood door carving that he had in the shop and the fact that he could work Valyrian steel. 

 

Now that I have traveled a bit in the rich lands of Essos I have come to understand that even if you are rich, things like Wierwood are not easy to buy, especially on that scale. 

 

Only the House of the Undying that burned down, had something comparable. The ominous giant face with a gaping jaw acting as the entrance to their house still lingering in my mind.

 

The fact that the Undying ones were warlocks, even if I was skeptical before. Witnessing one melting into shadow after my axe struck his chest left no doubt.

 

Mott claims to be able to work Valyrian steel and to work Valyrian steel it is said to require magic. 

 

The fact that Wierwood was front and center on two separate magical establishments is not a coincidence. 

 

Wierwood is no doubt connected to magic. 

 

That fact is not a big surprise to me, I always had my suspicions and read all that I could about myths and facts about Wierwood. 

 

But no matter what I learned, it only served to confuse me more. Magic in this world is not like the stories I used to read in my past life, where the hero would sit on a cliff and meditate for years collecting energy and storing it in his body.

 

Or the young boy leaving his home to an academy of the crafts and then returning a superhuman wielding the elements.

 

No, the magic here is much more subtle and more confusing… more cruel.

 

The most documented magic in this world is blood magic and fire magic. What they both have very much in common is sacrifices.

 

Better said, almost all magic is involved with sacrifices. The most jarring thing about this world is how much human sacrifice is practiced and even worse there seem to be genuine reasons for those sacrifices.

 

We in the North have sacrificed to the Wierwood for thousands of years. Even my Father every time he beheaded a criminal or a deserter, he cleaned his bloodied blade by the Wierwood of Winterfell after, like some sort of ritual.

 

If I was still in my old world I would scoff at such acts of barbarity but can I do the same now? I have seen for myself the supernatural nature of this world.

 

I feel goosebumps all over my skin at the implications of my thoughts.

 

It´s not only the Wierwood that people are sacrificed to. There are the Others, the Deep Ones, the Drowned god, Rhollor, and the Old gods. And many more. Are they all real gods? 

 

Or might they be beings of magic or both? Or might they not even exist and just be a backlash of blood magic being invoked by so many sacrifices?

 

It is said to wield magic in this world is like grasping a double-edged blade, there is no safe way to grasp it. My head feels like it is about to explode, it is all so cryptic.

 

What about the undying ones, what are they? When I killed it there was no body that was left behind, like some wraith being released in the air.

 

Did it sacrifice its physical form to live longer? Is that why there was no body left behind? Did my axe going through its heart, could it have released some sort of binding spell?

 

I am a novice in these arts but even if magic is a double-edged blade, ignorant actions to wield magic won´t do me any good. But neither will cowering in fear of magic be productive.

 

Asking the learned man in front of me some questions will be a start.

 

“Mott, you promised to work for me because you wanted to study the metal of my weapon right?” 

 

“Yes, it is very rare for someone of my expertise to encounter something new,” The old man says his eyes shining.

 

“What if I told you I would not only allow you to study it but also work it and reforge it,” I say surprising the man.

 

“What is the catch?” He eyes me warily.

 

“I am not ignorant of the fact that you must have some connections to important people around the world, all I ask for is your word that you keep the business of Winterfell to yourself and that you accept an apprentice of my choosing and teach him all that you know” 

 

He frowns “Not just anyone can learn my teachings” 

 

“Don´t worry I will carefully gather a good group of lads who you can pick from” 

 

“Hmph, fine! Enough of this boring talk, what is the weapon you want me to reforge”

 

I take out my axe at my side and lay it on the table “Can you tell me the materials in this metal first”  

 

He studies it closely, his eyes wide “This weapon the material is strange, might be meteorite or an undocumented mix, there is definitely bronze and iron infused, one thing is certain though, it has changed from when I last saw it, the is magic in it is alive now” 

 

His words remind me of how the axe shined when it killed the undying one and the metal felt colder to the touch.

 

“What do you mean? Does that mean there was magic slumbering in it?” I ask for clarification.

 

“I am not certain, I am not like the Valyrian blacksmiths how old who could create such magic. If I knew the source of such things I would be a much richer man than I am already. What I do know is this material should now be able to wield magic, it is ready all I to do need is to inscribe glyphs or runes on it and mix in your blood as the wielder of the weapon”

 

Blood magic, it does not surprise me that he knows how to use that as someone who can reforge Valyrian swords.

 

He continued “I might not be able to recognize what it is made of, but I can reforge it and keep its magical properties the Wierwood too, I can work with. What kind of weapon did you want me to reforge it into?” 

 

“Not a weapon, I want you to make it into a crown.”