His body shivered and shook akin to a leaf caught in wind as he pulled his clothes over his body, silently cursing himself for being adamant in washing off the days of travel. Aoza quickly dressed inside his poorly insulated room.

'Did they give me this room out of spite!?' He wondered briefly before dismissing the thought.

'It's likely, this entire castle's decrepit.' From what he could see, every room in this deary place was likely the same- dark and drafty due to withered brick and poorly sealed windows.

One couldn't just chalk it up to the primitive mortar and construction practices of the mainlanders. The building was just too old and damaged.

He winced as a particularly cold draft of wind washed over his body after slipping into the room through a crack in the wall. Honestly, this castle black or dark was much like the castle at the eastern coasts, he was just hoping it would be grander as a headquarters. Something one would expect from the ones who claimed to be protecting the rest of the mainland from roving band of savages and nightmares beyond the massive wall.

He envisioned the headquarters of this order would be similarly magnificent in comparison to the wall, but from what he could see the place was in dire need of repair and funds.

Even he, a scholarly man could pick put the feebleness of the order. How would they get attacked by barbarians south of the wall? Why would the path connecting Eastwatch to Castle Black be allowed to be obstructed by snow? The wall was such a massive structure which covered an extended distance; the force needed to effectively patrol both sides needs to be massive. Yet from the abandoned forts he'd seen during the journey, the main deficiency of the organization was manpower.

'Just how many savages have slipped through with these brothers being left unawares?' He wondered while polishing his smudged spectacles with shaking hands.

'How could the mainland powers allow this order to fall into disrepair? Why is this place so improperly manned?' Folktales of evil ice spirits aside, the situation between the barbarian and civil mainlanders was rather similar to the many barbarian clan and petty bandit king raids on the more civil domains of the ancient, decentralized Earth kingdom.

It would take some time to subtly uncover questions and report back to base. He was charged with three objectives while on the mainland. He was to quickly improve his ability to speak the local language, from that, he'd analyze their culture and document it for future interaction.

He was eager to do so...but first dinner.

He took a moment to gather his things and adjust the heavy cloak over his body before leaving the room. Aoza nodded to the guards outside and they all began walking through the empty halls of the chilly castle black. It didn't take long to reach the mess hall full of dining black clothed men.

The room was poorly lit-the entire castle was. The few tallow candles struggled to brighten the place with the constant wind which seeped in through the walls and windows. It didn't help much with the dark attire of the occupants either. With each flicker of the candle's flames, deeper and deeper shadows seemed to be casted inside the space.

The sounds of eating paused as the men noticed their entrance. He was a poor excuse for military man, however, even he could sense the tension in the room. The men were looking at the with fleeting or suspicious glances.

Thankfully, this didn't last long and soon they went back to their meals, Aoza and his retinue was escorted down the mess hall to the high wooden table near the lord commander and his elderly scholar.

They shared a greeting nod at each before he took a seat before a steaming clay bowl of grey mystery stew.

'Ugh.' He loathed to eat it. He was a Fire Islander, spices and herbs were in everything he consumed since a young age! With the constant stream of herbs and seasonings from the colonies, fire islanders like himself were used to and explosion of flavours with every bite!

However, since the damnable storm, his meal satisfaction took a nose dive. What's worse, it likely will continue to do so until more spices could be sourced somewhere in this new world. Those newly sourced spices would have to hold them over until greenhouse facilities were constructed. Perhaps then, there would be enough spices available to season their food in true fire nation fashion.

Resisting the urge to clamp his nostrils, Aoza spooned the mystery stew into his mouth and took a few cautionary slurps. It wasn't awful, just criminally under seasoned and very dull.

'it's warm though.' He could get comfort with that.

Dinner passed quickly and quietly with a little tension in the air. Though it lessened as the men trickled out after finishing their meals. In no time, the gloomy hall was populated by the Lord Commander, a few armed men, the wizened scholar and themselves.

With the meal concluded, they were led to what he assumed to be the lord commander's office. It was a dull linking place as any other in the building; sparsely furnished and bereft of any grandiose ornaments.

"Well, let's hear it. What brings you to our shores? What is the purpose of your people's presence here?" The stern-looking man asked as he took a seat while motioning him to do so in the seat directly in front of his simple desk.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Lee pondered the questions as he settled into the uncomfortable, but firm chair.

He ignored the crackle from the little fireplace in the corner and ruminated over the individual words so that he could fully interpret them before responding. "By the will of His highness: Prince Iroh, we come to your shores in peace lord commander. As I'm sure you already know, our ships encountered a terrible storm during a voyage. By the time we recovered ourselves, we were in what your people called the.... Shaking sea? As the storm damaged our ships, we had to seek refuge on the stone islands." Lee replied- or at least what he hoped the man could understand from his reply. While he wished to speak eloquently, the language was too new and his vocabulary was too limited. He watched as the black cloaked man across from him frowned and massaged his grey beard in thought.

"How long do you plan to stay? I'm sure you already know the lands you inhabit belong to house Stark." The man asked.

Aoza made sure to ruminate over the words before replying: "We intend to remain until repairs can be made to our damaged ships so that we can safely return to our lands."

"Where exactly would that be? Your people seem to be rather adept in maritime travel and vessels. Could your people not return with the ships you do have for aid?" The maester spoke up for the first time.

He took an extended period to answer that particular question despite already understanding what was asked. 'This is it.'

"Well, that's the issue... our maps are... very different from yours. I've brought one personally, as the map would be too heavy to send by bird." He dug into his clothes and removed a sheathed scroll.

Slowly, he removed it from its casing and handed it to his accompanying attendants, who then presented it to the man.

The Lord commander handled the scroll gingerly. Lee assumed this was because he was unfamiliar with it.

'The natives of the mainland bind their words in thick booklets....' While it was becoming more and more common for leaves of paper to be bound, especially in universities, most still preferred to use the scroll. Actually, this particular scroll was to be sold as merchandise and was one of the few deemed to be suitable for gifting to the mainlanders.

The man across from him scanned the scroll's surface, though lee doubted he could see much with the rooms poor lighting.

Still, he could tell the man was a bit shocked due to his slightly widened eyes and the extended time he took to gander at the map.

"As you can see commander, our maps of the known world are very different." He added as the silence dragged on.

"... That they are..." The man said after some time.

Lee cleared his throat to get the man's attention after assembling a response to his second question.

"Our prince wishes to correspond with the wolves in time. We hope you may be able to aid us in this."

The lord commander did eventually decode his words and nodded. Soon the moved on to discussing trade possibilities and even the overlord of the region. Like all the natives, they had a peculiar name: Stark. It seems they mis-interpreted the words of the Stone islanders. While this house Stark did take a giant species of singular attribute wolf as their symbol, they weren't actually named wolves. By the end of it all, Aoza was mentally burnt out and exhausted.

So much so, that he didn't even sweat it when the lord commander said: "I've heard of the supposed abilities. I'd like to see them myself."

After getting the gist of what the man was saying, he looked at Lieutenant Min Seok and nodded; they'd prepared for this after all.

The lieutenant stepped forward and raised is right hand; small tongues of flame sprouted above his palm.

Lee eyed the face of the Lord commander as Min Seok willed the flames to dance around each other.

To his credit, the lord commander didn't jump or scream as most natives had at the first sight of Firebending. The only thing different in the man's expression was the widening of his eyes.

(-)

The next day, Lee strolled through the cold halls of castle black with a much-diminished retinue. Most of the men were busy guarding their rooms or tending to the beasts. He on the other hand had another task.

He swallowed a yawn; still exhausted from the journey and questioning of the leader of the night's watch. After seeing the flames, he began asking various questions which lee wasn't sure he would ever understand until he was better at speaking the local tongue.

'What was a Red God?' He shook his head to clear the stray thoughts. As a fidgety brother of the night's watch led his group up the winding steps of the castle where the smell of grain and bird excrement increased in intensity before peaking as they stepped into what appeared to be a rookery.

The room was lined with hanging, black iron cages. The hunched and withered scholar- Aemon stood throwing grain into to cages as the strange creatures cawed in delight. Aoza fought the cringe coming to his face. It seems the longer he stayed on the mainland, the more he would encounter more strange creatures.

The cawing birds looked so similar to the Raven-Eagle native to his homeland however, these freaky avians lacked the distinct, white Eagle heads, instead possessing pitch black heads with thinner beaks. They were a little small when compared to normal Raven-eagles too.

"Hmmm? What is it?" Lee raised an eyebrow as the man seemed to be aware of their presence while facing away from them. There was no way the man should've heard their approach over the loud cries of the freaky birds he fed.

The brother walked up to the old man and spoke to him. As he was not close enough, he couldn't hear what was being said.

The old man nodded and turned around- his bright yet unfocused eyes were trained upon them. Strangely, Lee had a feeling as if the shrunken man wasn't staring right at him, but through him. Aoza took a brief look at the chain which hung around the maester's thin, fleshless neck. It was made of various metals and seemed to a serve as an official motif of the scholarly order.

He greeted them-though Aoza didn't know what the words meant.

"To what do I owe the pleasure for this visit?"

Aoza nodded to the man adjacent to him before saying: "Greeting maester, as a gesture of good will from my people to yours, we wish to gift you with this Dragon-Hawk so that our peoples will be able to communicate."

The attendant unveiled the thing he carried to reveal a regal avian preening its vibrant reddish-brown feathers within its bronze cage. As if annoyed with the caws of the native birds, the messenger hawk let out a loud screech- silencing them for a moment.

The maester raised his brows at the sound before smiling warmly and saying: "What a feisty fellow."

Lee spent the majority of the morning informing the maester on the particular specifications and needs of the hawk.

By midday, he was led into a vast chamber by the elderly man and his escort. This one was lined with shelves of bound parchment the mainlanders referred to as ... books. The old maester gently instructed a black brother to gather a few of these books and placed them on display for him to gander at.

Some of the books looked aged and tattered while some were in better shape. All of them a testament of the mainlanders' civility. He opened one of the books and eyed the strange text within. These books were key in his mission. They would be invaluable in his learning of the native language and culture of the mainland.

Of course, he'd seen a little of these books and their alien characters before however, he didn't get nearly enough time to analyze them. 'To think there could be a script so different from ours!'

It was rather dazzling as his eyes tried to make sense of the characters. He resorted to asking the polite old man for aid.

Slowly, but surely, Aoza was becoming rather fond of this aemon. The man was patient and helpful. He had an air about him which was grandfatherly and scholarly at the same time. Communication between them was choppy and halting, yet the maester didn't seem to mind. The day wore on this way, with Aoza even sending for writing material so that he could take notes.

"I must say, you have a very impressive collection here." He complimented the rows of books.

"This collection is diminutive when compared to the citadel but I thank you. It is rather unfortunate that, I am no longer able to read them." The old man remarked

"Could you tell me of your symptoms? You may have similar problems I do." He conveyed.

"Ah yes. I did hear of the glass device which aids your sight. I fear even such a device may not help. This vision of mine has been darkening for some time now. Around ten years ago. All I see now are fleeting shapes and silhouettes." Lee didn't know much about vision loss apart from his own affliction. To him, the old man's eyes looked normal- vibrant in fact.

"If that's the case, I'm afraid you cannot be treated in the same way I was. These devices help in correcting sight through bending light. Your affliction may be beyond whatever help my people's physicians could offer." He found it unfortunate. For a scholar to lose their sight... it's akin to torture.

'Mayhaps one of the physicians could take a look at him one day... who knows.'