NOVEL NEXT Chapter 5: Chapter-5
January 24th, 1945
The Rusty Manor
General POV
"Yes, we were kings—kings of the North," Adrian Stark replied, his voice heavy with nostalgia as he recalled the glorious past of their house. "Our ancestor, Cregan Stark, the son of Bran the Shipwright, embarked on a grand voyage beyond the uncharted waters around 9600 BC. He was accompanied by his trusted companion, Howland Reed."
"The old records suggest they encountered another ship manned by a rival house—the Lannisters. The journals recount that Trytos Lannister boarded the northern ship and launched a surprise attack on its crew. Cregan Stark and Trytos Lannister, both young and eager to prove their worth, clashed in a duel of epic proportions. The storm was raging, with the sea rising and crashing around them."
"You were fighting even back then?" Joanna interrupted, her curiosity piqued.
"Don't interrupt," came the unified response from everyone at the table, their attention riveted on the story. Joanna sighed, her exasperation evident. Even Aryan was engrossed, hanging on every word.
Adrian continued, "The storm worsened, and turbulent waves crashed violently against the ship. The men fought fiercely onboard, but then, something extraordinary happened—a black, cloudy mist appeared out of nowhere. The fighting ceased as men began losing consciousness one after another." He paused for effect, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "What followed remains shrouded in mystery, but after being stranded and losing most of their men, Cregan and Trytos were forced to make a temporary truce.
A few days later, they encountered two women floating at sea—twin sisters, Artemis and Despoina. The Starks and Lannisters rescued them. Cregan later married Artemis, while Trytos married Despoina. They parted ways, with the Starks eventually landing on an island that is known today as Iceland."
Cornelius Lannister, eager to continue the tale, picked up the narrative. "Trytos Lannister and his crew eventually made landfall on the coasts of what is now Norway. Both the Lannisters and the Starks were said to possess unique magical abilities—Greensight and skin-changing for the Starks, and sharp intellect and heightened senses for the Lannisters.
The children of Cregan and Trytos were rumored to be powerful full blooded wizards, their bloodlines intertwined with magic."
Adrian added with a hint of pride, "The Starks went on to conquer the island, ruling as its kings, while the Lannisters established themselves as a prominent merchant house, masters of seafaring and trade.
Though their paths crossed often, and many battles were fought, neither side ever emerged as the clear victor. The Starks ruled the island for centuries before eventually leaving, their legacy etched into the very fabric of the land."
He continued, his voice growing somber, "Humans are all the same—our language and clothes may change, but at our core, we remain driven by greed. Muggles were always eager to plunder, loot, conquer, and sow chaos. In the beginning, we ruled with peace and harmony.
Conflicts existed, but the lives of the general populace were not greatly disturbed. Then, human nature began to show its true colors. Greed took precedence over Love and harmony, leading to frequent conflicts both within and outside the Kingdom."
Adrian's eyes darkened as he spoke of the past. "Back then, the Kingdom of the North was a powerhouse and a paradise. With fertile lands, a rich culture, and a vast network of trade, it was truly a heaven on earth. But greatness breeds envy and greed.
Many tried to plunder its riches and failed. Eventually, three allied nations betrayed us, allying themselves with pirates and enemy nations to launch a massive attack. Even with a mighty army and the odds in their favor, the alliance was defeated."
"But our victory came at a terrible cost," Adrian continued, his voice heavy with the weight of history. "Many lives were lost, and as a final blow, news of the assassination of Lyanna, the youngest princess, arrived. It was a devastating blow to the nation and its people.
The youngest princess was beloved by all, and her assassination ignited a fury among the populace. What followed was an incident that cemented our house's reputation as one not to be trifled with. The incident is known by many names, but the most common is 'The Bloodborne Verdict.'"
A palpable tension filled the room as Adrian recounted the tale. "For months after the attack, no retaliation came from the Kingdom of the North. The allied nations boasted that the North had lost its values, honor, and pride. But we were merely in mourning. Then, without warning, the carnage began.
All allied houses and their members started dying, killed by their own leaders and family members. No one associated with the allied houses was spared—maids, workers, slaves, even pets. Every blood relative of the attackers was eliminated, leaving only the leaders and those who had taken part in the attack alive."
A chill swept through the room as the guests listened, their attention riveted on Adrian's every word.
"Many of the leaders went mad," Adrian continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Some hanged themselves, others drowned. But the three original heads of the houses did something even more chilling. They assembled their citizens, knelt before them, and said, 'THE NORTH REMEMBERS,' before unsheathing their knives and beheading themselves slowly and painfully."
The room fell into an eerie silence. The gathered guests exchanged nervous glances, their faces pale with the weight of the story.
Suddenly, Adrian's voice boomed through the hall, "People may have forgotten the North, but THE NORTH REMEMBERS. It remembers every favor it received and every slight it endured. And, like the Lannisters, we too know how to pay our debts—good with good and bad with worse."
Everyone trembled at his words, one person more than the others. The feast continued, but Adrian's words lingered in everyone's minds, casting a shadow over the evening's festivities.
[A Few Hours Later]
Night had settled over the great hall of the Stark stronghold, its warmth replaced by a chilling quiet. The last of the guests had departed, their laughter and chatter replaced by the soft crackling of the dying embers in the hearth. The Starks, their vassal houses, the Lannisters, and their retainers lingered, drawn to a more private and solemn gathering.
Markus led the way through the winding corridors of the ancient fortress, his son cradled carefully in his arms. The grand halls, once bustling with the energy of celebration, now felt heavy with a sense of foreboding. The guests followed, their faces shadowed by the dim glow of torches lining the stone walls.
[January 14th, 1945]
[Ten Days Prior]
[An Unnamed Place]
In a dimly lit room, a large tub filled with a black, tar-like liquid began to bubble ominously. Without warning, a man emerged from the tub, gasping for air. His rugged face was etched with worry, and a hint of fear flickered in his eyes.
Gellert Grindelwald's POV
"It's still the same," I thought, frustration gnawing at my resolve. "My visions have never failed me before, but no matter what I do, the outcome remains unchanged: defeat at the hands of Albus. Why must my sight betray me now? What should I do?" I mused, my mind racing.
A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. "Enter," I commanded, my voice sharp.
A man with a fearful expression stepped into the room, his posture submissive.
"What do you have to offer me, Lord Briggs?" I asked, my tone laced with expectation.