>>6190690You glance over at Anya. Her face betrays nothing, occupied wholly with the oatcake she was currently drowning in honey. How much the world turned on the smallest things. All their efforts for weeks of effort and they had managed to bring onboard just seven people of the requisite ability. But five would never have been enough.
By the end of the meal, you’re still trying to decide what to do with the rest of the day, so ask the table what they might have in mind.
“I was considering simply wandering,” Emíl says.
“Not much else to do, is there?” Soren echoes, leaning back with his hands behind his head.
“Unusually, I’m inclined to agree,” Anya says. “I wish to begin scrying attempts on the Nightrunners today, at least those few whose names are known to us, but we ought to know this castle as well.”
“A tour it is then,” you say. “Well, let’s be off.”
The experience of wandering somewhere one does not know the language is, as ever, an awkward one. Most of the inhabitants of Winterfell give you a wide berth. The noble hierarchy is rather strict here, you’ve already gathered, and most of the staff in the castle do their best to avoid obstructing their highborne guests, though the men-at-arms do politely bar from a few locations, including the main gatehouse.
Walking the place on foot, you gain a new appreciation for just how large the castle complex is. There are half a dozen major free-standing inner castles including the Great Keep and the Guest Keep. One, a distinctive squat drum tower, languishes in disuse, the statues around its roof are weathered to formless lumps. Nearby across the yard is a tall and slender tower which is missing its top and shows signs of fire in its relatively recent history. But the biggest surprise are the greenhouses. An extensive complex of them, in fact, built right next to Brandon’s Shrine and the godswood.
“I thought glasswork of that scale or quality without spellcraft to be beyond them,” you remark.
“The winters here are pretty harsh, they say,” Eva says. “I bet these’re a godsend in bad years.”
Before too long you find you have admirers. Many are curious children, but others are among the ladies of the castle. Some just watch, others come to greet your group, others pretend they’re not looking. By the time you all pass the training grounds, where a few men and boys are sparring and drilling with spears and swords, you start to draw considerable attention. Soren especially. Though you don’t understand their words, their meanings aren’t hard to guess at. What kind of warriors are these foreign men? What kind of lady wears a sword? (You aren’t carrying your rapier openly at the moment, but Anya is, and Senna carries several daggers at her hip and in her boots.)
“I believe they may want us to fight,” Anya says flatly.
“Probably not us in particular, sister,” you reply.
