Song of A Northern Sorcerer

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Standing next to the helm of the Sea Wolf, former Darth Nox, Lord of the Sith, member of the Dark Council of the Sith Empire and a current Lord of Westeros and the Northern Sorcerer, watched through the Force as the massive ship cut through the waves of the ocean with barely a tremor felt. The ship's massive size granted it such stability that unless they encountered a large wave, the calm to choppy waters of the Narrow Sea did little to disturb the passengers and sailors on board as they sailed down the coast of Essos heading ever closer to their destination. Leaning his head back, Nox took in a deep breath of sea air.

He hadn't really realized it before, as he hadn't had a chance too, but he'd missed this. Not the sailing, although that too was enjoyable to a point. No, what he missed was the adventure. Heading off into the unknown. Searching for secrets long since lost and returning with knowledge worth more even more than raw coaxium. Ever since the end of his 'apprenticeship' under his former master Darth Zash, Nox had not had a moment to truly head out and pursue this type of venture again. After Zash's death, he was stuck running for his life from Darth Thanaton before wading through the swamps of Taris and then the frozen wasteland of Hoth. And after that, he was stuck trying to keep his body from deteriorating from the Force Walking ritual so that he could finally confront Darth Thanaton and kill the son of a bitch. Which then led to his ascension to the Dark Council and the end to any potential 'free time' he might've had as he suddenly found himself responsible for an entire sect of the Sith, maintaining his own fleet of Imperial ships and soldiers, while at the same time keeping an eye out for any potential upstarts within the Sith that thought they had a chance at taking what was his.

The only thing that could've truly made this little venture of his more enjoyable would be if Nyra was by his side. It had honestly surprised him how fast the once timid girl had worked her way into his life. But now, now she was as much a fixture of his thoughts as Ashara had been, and still was. But while the two women might be equal in his heart now, they were quite different. Oh, they both had the same fire and drive that attracted him so. But if he were being completely honest, Ashara was the stronger of the two. He'd tried to teach Nyra to fight, but she'd been…well, miserable at it. He'd been persistent with her, and while she did learn a few things and could probably hold her own for a time against most, she would never be able to truly stand by his side on the field of battle as an equal. But while she might not be the warrior that Ashara was, she was strong in other areas. Which was why he'd had no qualms about leaving her in charge of his affairs while he was away. He trusted her, probably above all others, to do what needed to be done.

'At least this time I won't be going skinny dipping in a toxic waste dump on Balmorra.' Nox thought, chuckling lightly to himself as he remembered the defector Imperial doctor that he dragged back from a Republic base. 'Although, based on what I've learned of the so-called 'Doom of Valyria', I could very well be walking headfirst into a similar situation.'

Ever since he'd had the vision before the weirwood tree in Winterfell all those years ago, Nox had been dedicating almost every moment he could to deciphering it. While some aspects of the vision he could make sense of, for every one of those occurrences there were still ten or more that did not make much sense. The great darkness that was threatening to overrun Westeros for instance was still a mystery to him, although after digging through the library and speaking discreetly with the denizens of the North, he had a fair idea of just what, if not who, the darkness was. But the other dark presences around this world still eluded him. Not something that he was accustomed to, nor something that he was comfortable with. And due to the lack of effective transportation, he was unfortunately stuck with dealing with the threat's closest to him for the time being.

Whenever he entered a deep state of mediation, he could almost feel the individual dark presences across the globe. And besides the strangely clouded presence far to the north of Westeros, there was only one that was close by. And it resided in a land that few dared to tread. Valyria: the perfect place to hide. And there was not a doubt in his mind that whatever this dark presence was or is, it had something to do with the 'Doom of Valyria'. 'It had to be some sort of Force Ritual gone wrong. Or right, pending on one's point of view.' Nox pondered while idly drumming his fingertips against the railing of the ship.

Nox could think of several rituals off the top of his head that could have a backlash, intentionally or not, that could equal the devastation reportedly caused by the Doom. And none of those rituals were pleasant. Well, not that many Sith rituals could be considered 'pleasant' in the first place. But still, there were a few rituals that any Sith with barely a mediocre amount of sense in their heads knew to stay well away from.

The only other theory he had for the Doom was a natural disaster like a volcanic eruption. But that seemed more and more unlikely with each new fact he learned about Valyria. The land was rife with 'magic'. And even a novice Sith Acolyte would've been able to sense such a disastrous event well before it occurred. Then there was the Smoking Sea itself, a simple strait that became a sea after the Doom shattered the peninsula that Valyria once sat upon. The sea constantly smoked, and the water boiled. And then there were the demons and stone men were said to room within its depths. Not something that Nox considered to be a 'natural' phenomenon.

Hearing a commotion from the main deck of the Sea Wolf, Nox pulled his senses back into himself and to the ship. Standing on the main deck of the ship, surrounded by a good portion of the crew, were two individuals who, despite sharing the same name, were complete opposites in terms of size from one another. 'Small Jon' Umber, although Nox was sure the name was ironic as the newly turned twenty-year-old man stood even a full head above Nox, was making small circles around his much small opponent, Nox's own acolyte Jon Snow. While to the passerby it might look like the two were sparring, they were instead playing a game that Nox had introduced to the crew as an attempt to alleviate some of the boredom and stress that can come from long voyages such as this. On each of their backs, they had a strip of red cloth the size of a man's arm tucked into the waistline of their pants. The objective was simple: the first one to get the cloth from the opponent won. And the only rules were no weapons and no drawing blood.

However, despite the severe size mismatch, Jon was holding his own as he used his smaller frame to deftly dodge around Small Jon's light punches and attempts to grab him while those who were surrounding the two were shouting words of encouragement or taunts as coins and verbal bets were being passed between one another. Of those trading the taunts and barbs, the ones who surprised Nox the most were Dacey Mormont and Asha Greyjoy. Not because the two were in the crowd joining in with the others, but rather because the two were standing side by side and laughing with one another.

Despite the long history of animosity between the two young women's Houses and their relatively frosty introduction to one another, the two women had developed a strange comradery during the voyage. And now, it was almost strange to find one during the day without the other right next to her. Their relationship was probably helped by the fact that, being the only two women onboard the vessel, they were placed into the same cabin with one another. So, they were forced to either try and find some common ground between themselves or be faced with a very long voyage ahead.

Hearing a chorus of cheers and groans as well as the sound of coins changing hands, Nox focused on Jon and Jon. His Acolyte had managed to jump and flip over the much large man's head and had grabbed hold of the red cloth on his opponent's back, before tucking and rolling away from him. Ending the match between the two as he came up with the cloth in hand and a grin that nearly split his face in two.

Even though this voyage had only just really begun, the changes in Nox's young Acolyte were astonishing. The boy had grown by leaps and bounds, not necessarily in terms of power, but rather in confidence. Something that he needed desperately but was heavily stunted due to his time in Winterfell and to his status as a bastard. While Nox had noted that the Northern people did not care for a man's status but rather his deeds, the title still held a heavy weight over the boy's head. 'Primarily because it had been drilled into his head for years before I arrived and could cease the berating.' Nox thought sourly. 'It's taken a long time to undo years of conditioning.'

Their brief stop in Braavos to resupply had done wonders not only for Jon, but for many of the men of the North. Most of whom had never stepped foot outside the Northern territory in their entire lives. Of course, he was sure that many of the men were just happy with the few silver stags that were presented to each member of the crew. Which Nox had no doubt immediately went into the hands of the brothels near the port. Small Jon certainly hadn't been shy about boasting about his own trip to the local brothel where, by his more than likely overstated claim, he had been able to satisfy four whores to such a degree that he actually had to convince them to keep the coin he paid them with.

Jon of course, had turned red at the tale. His acolyte might have already bloodied himself in battle, but he was still just a boy of twelve, nearly thirteen years of age. And while puberty had set in, due to his upbringing, the boy was far too timid around the fairer sex for Nox's liking. 'The boy needs to get over his unease towards women. In Braavos, the boy went completely red and he lost his focus simply because a whore flashed him her tits and offered him the time of his life. Should he ever come across a female opponent, either on the field of battle or off, he could and will be easily distracted if she knows what she's doing. And such a distraction can prove fatal. It's why a few female Sith I knew fought in such skimpy outfits. They used their bodies as a distraction to a great effect against those who were not ready for it.'

The simplest answer was simply to get Jon laid. But considering the boy was only twelve years of age, that was not really an option. Sure, there was no true 'age of consent' on this backwater world. But it still wasn't a route that Nox was willing to go down. 'Asha has been a good influence on the boy, and Dacey as well.' Nox thought as he watched the only two women, who had both opted for loose fitting clothes that left little to the imagination due to the heat they were experiencing on the ship, walk up and congratulate Jon on his victory, which made the young man freeze and go red slightly. 'But it is not enough. Perhaps locking him in a room with a dozen naked women…not to have sex, but rather just to get him used to the female form would work?'

"Lord Nox."

Turning away from the scene occurring on the main deck, Nox turned his attention to Ser Wendel Manderly, who was considered to officially be second-in-command of the Sea Wolf even though he was said vessel's Captain. Although, unofficially, on this voyage he was third after Asha who'd taken to the ship as if it were her own. And while he certainly wasn't as robust as his father, the man had some girth to him. Such that Nox was surprised that the floorboards of the ship didn't groan whenever he walked across them. "What is it, Ser Wendel?"

"I just finished going over the charts, Lord Sorcerer," Wendel stated, pawing at his long mustache that fell around his lips and down past his chin. "Should the wind hold, we should be reaching the Stepstones within two days, my Lord. Was also wondering if you want us to stop in Tyrosh to resupply before we make our way through. The men could surely use another day at port. Braavos did wonders."

"That it did," Nox nodded in acknowledgement. "But no, we will not be stopping in Tyrosh. We'll be sailing past the Sea of Myrth soon enough, and Tyrosh is too close to Myr for my liking. And considering all the Wolf and Mermaid banners and emblems on this ship, I'd rather not give Myr the chance to organize some sort of accident to befall us as we make our way through the islands and around the Disputed Lands."

Wendel didn't necessarily look pleased, but he nodded his head in agreement. "Aye, I can see your point, Lord Sorcerer. The North certainly isn't high up on Myr's list of friends as of late, considering how much coin we've cost them. I'll inform the crew that we won't be stopping in Tyrosh, my Lord. But, if not Tyrosh, then where will we make port again?"

"Volantis," Nox answered without hesitation. "I want us to be well and clear of the Disputed Lands before we make port."

"Very well, my Lord." Wendel nodded, moving aside as Nox strode past him towards the steps that led down to the main deck.

Without saying another word, Nox turned the moment he was on the main deck and made for the back of the ship where the cabins belonging to the Captain and the First Mate lay. Though, right now the captain's cabin belonged to Nox and the First mate's cabin belonged to Dacey and Asha while Wendel and his first mate had moved down into the lower level of the ship and had taken one of the cabins below deck for their own.

In true Northern fashion, the captain's cabin wasn't overly ornate nor large. There was a bed, a cloth screen that sectioned off a small corner of the room where his lavatory was, and the middle of the room was dominated by a table. Once in his cabin, he moved immediately to the table where several charts and dozens of books were scattered. Letting his fingers glide across the surface of the table, he stopped when his fingers brushed across the spine of one of his many books. Without even having to focus on it, he knew exactly which book it was. 'A History of Volantis since the Doom of Valyria,' Nox thought, reading the title of the book without even looking at it.

While almost all the crew, including Asha and Dacey if the rumors were to be true, where chasing pleasures of the flesh in Braavos, Nox had spent his time chasing something else entirely. Something that was far more valuable than a few brief moments of relief. Knowledge.

The library of Winterfell was extensive, almost unbelievably so. Some of the books and scrolls that Nox had stumbled across while perusing the shelves dated back thousands of years, almost to the time when this world first began to learn the written word. But despite the deep history found in the Winterfell, it was lacking significantly in anything related to the lands outside of Westeros. Which was why, the moment he'd stepped foot off the Sea Wolf in Braavos, he'd set off for the nearest bookstore he could find.

Unfortunately for him, there were only a few in Braavos as the written word in the land was still done by hand. And each tome was quite expensive. But thankfully, after years of aiding the North and with his own private income from his business ventures in the North and other parts of Westeros, he'd collected a fair amount of coin to his name. A fair portion of which he'd brought with him on for this exact purpose. After three stores, coincidentally the only three that were housed in Braavos, and spending nearly all of his coin, Nox had collected a small library for himself and had ordered it to be delivered to the Sea Wolf and set up in his cabin.

After procuring nearly a king's ransom in books, Nox had taken his time in exploring Braavos. Outside of Winterfell, Pyke, White Harbor, and a few other Northern keeps, Nox had not had the time to truly look around this world that he found himself stranded in. Braavos had been…enlightening. A massive sprawling metropolis that valued commerce. A step forward from the current way of life in Westeros as far as Nox was concerned. But given time, Nox would be able to elevate the North into a such a land, and later the rest of Westeros. He'd already acknowledged that he would never be able to get Westeros to the point where there might be even the possibility of reaching the stars once more, but the straggler of hope remained in the back of his mind. Constantly reminding him with all his advancements that maybe, just maybe, there would be a chance. But after seeing Braavos, that hope was gone. The best that he could do was to make peace with his new lot in life and hopefully set up a future where his name and legacy would not perish.

Besides reaching that conclusion and killing the last vestiges of potentially returning to the stars, there was one other noteworthy occurrence during his time in Braavos. And that was when he'd stumbled upon a rather unassuming building sitting upon a rocky knoll near the outskirts of the city proper. A squat and sparsely decorated building with no windows and a black and white door that had a moon-like face that was carved half and half onto each opposing door. It wasn't the unremarkable architecture, nor even the strange choice of coloring on the door that drew him in. But rather the strange Force presence he felt from the building. Neither light nor dark…but one that had a note of finality to it.

'The House of Black and White,' Nox had later learned it was called. 'The Temple belonging to those who follow the 'Many-Faced God', or the god of death in layman's terms. Also, home to the Faceless Men, an elite order of assassins known across the world. Even Winterfell's library had mention of the notorious order.'

After discovering the temple, Nox had spent the remainder of his time in Braavos trying his best to discreetly learn as much as he could about the Temple and its inhabitants. Unfortunately, after three days on shore, what he learned could be summed in less than a single written page. The temple was where people went to die or, if you had the coin or something of equal trade, the place you went to contract the Faceless Men. Although none knew what the prices were nor how to even get the enigmatic followers of the Many-Face God to accept their contract. Nor did anyone know what exactly made the 'Faceless Men', well, faceless.

But Nox had a feeling he knew how they did it. It had to be some sort of Force ritual that involved the essences of those that'd passed. Being a practitioner of the Force-Walking technique, Nox had a rather unique relation with the dead, specifically the spirits of the dead that refused to become one with the Force upon their passing. He could sense them, pacify them, and, with time and the correct ritual, even devour them. Though he had yet to do the last part. And it was that unique connection with the dead that flared to life when Nox had approached the House of Black and White that gave him the clue as to how they did what they did.

'And they definitely warrant looking into further,' Nox concluded, letting his fingers slide across the various tomes as he circled the table while his mind wandered. 'Highly trained assassins, even in a backwater world like this one, are dangerous. I should know, given some of the training I went through. And if said assassins had the ability to manipulate the Force to change their appearance into one of the deceased that lay in their halls, then that makes them even more dangerous. Luckily, I should be able to detect such a deception… But still, without actually seeing one of the Faceless men nor studying their techniques, I won't know what even to look for in the first place.'

Letting out a tired sigh, Nox dropped down into the lone folding cloth chair in his cabin and pulled one of the larger tomes that detailed the recent history of Volantis over to himself. 'I will have time to worry about the Faceless men later,' he thought, flipping open the book to where he had left off as he slowly let the Force surround him and be his eyes. 'One issue at a time. And for now, I need to learn everything I can about Volantis well before we make port.'