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The ravens had been arriving at the Hollow Vale for three days straight, each bearing increasingly incredible reports from King's Landing. Lyanna Stark stood in the center of Arthur's private solar, surrounded by scattered parchments, her young face a mask of controlled concern as she read the latest dispatch for the third time.
"He defeated Jaime Lannister in front of the entire court," she said aloud, though she was alone in the room. "Then somehow rendered the King catatonic with a look."
Outside, she could hear the sounds of the training yard—steel on steel, shouted instructions, the thud of arrows finding targets. Arthur's absence had not slowed their routines, but it had changed the atmosphere entirely. The company moved with a restless energy, like wolves sensing a distant storm.
A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. "Come," she called, and Redna slipped inside with the fluid grace that made her Arthur's most effective spy.
"Three more ravens," Redna reported quietly, producing sealed messages from her coat. "One from our contact in the capital, two from southern lords requesting audiences at the Hollow Vale."
Lyanna accepted the messages with steady hands, though her heart raced as she broke the first seal. The coded message from their King's Landing contact was brief but disturbing: Target has departed capital via sea route. Crown agents, Faith militants, and eastern operatives deployed for intercept. Situation deteriorating rapidly.
"He's in danger," Lyanna said, the words escaping before she could stop them.
Redna's dark eyes flickered with something that might have been amusement. "Is he, though? The reports from the Red Keep suggest he's become more dangerous than anyone anticipated."
Before Lyanna could respond, heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor outside. Garron's distinctive gait announced his arrival moments before he appeared in the doorway, his massive frame filling the opening entirely.
"The southern lords' messages," he said without preamble, nodding toward the unopened parchments in Lyanna's hands. "What do they want?"
Lyanna broke the remaining seals quickly, her eyes scanning the formal language that barely concealed desperate ambition. "House Manderly offers marriage alliances and trade agreements. House Cerwyn requests a formal demonstration of... 'northern techniques' in exchange for grain shipments and gold. Lord Umber wants to know if we're accepting new trainees and hints at providing armed support if needed."
"Word is spreading," Garron observed, settling his bulk into a reinforced chair that creaked ominously under his weight. "Every lord in the North has heard what happened in King's Landing by now. They smell opportunity."
"And beyond the North," Redna added softly. "My contacts in White Harbor report southern merchants asking pointed questions about the Hollow Vale. Gold is already flowing northward from lords who want to secure Arthur's favor before he returns. Some are offering ridiculous sums just for introductions."
Lyanna set the messages aside and moved to the window, gazing out over the training grounds where Arthur had transformed a handful of determined individuals into something approaching legend. Below, she could see Sarra instructing a group of new recruits in archery, her movements precise and economical as she demonstrated the breath-control techniques Arthur had taught them all.
"He's changed the game entirely," Lyanna said quietly. "Before, we were Lord Stark's retainer and his trusted companions. Now we're seen as the inner circle of someone the realm believes could reshape the balance of power."
"The question," Garron said grimly, "is whether we're ready for that kind of attention. And whether we can protect what he's built here while he's gone."
The door opened again, this time admitting Vaeren with his perpetually ink-stained fingers and the sort of concerned expression he wore when dealing with particularly volatile compounds. In his arms, he carried a leather satchel that clinked with the sound of glass vials.
"We have multiple problems," he announced without preamble, setting the satchel down carefully. "The new recruits are asking uncomfortable questions, our supplies are running low due to increased numbers, and I've detected... unusual substances in samples from our perimeter."
"What sort of questions?" Redna asked, though her tone suggested she already suspected the answer.
"The sort that come from men who've heard impossible stories and want to know if they're true. They want to know about Arthur's... abilities. His methods. Whether the training they're receiving here will make them capable of the feats described in the southern reports." Vaeren opened his satchel and withdrew a small vial filled with dark powder. "This was found near the eastern approach. It's not local—the composition suggests Essosi origins, possibly Braavosi. Someone's been watching us."
Lyanna felt a chill that had nothing to do with the northern air. "Watching or preparing?"
"Both, I suspect. The powder could be used for tracking, marking locations, or as a component in more... aggressive applications." Vaeren's expression darkened. "My knowledge of eastern alchemy is limited, but I recognize the base compounds. This isn't merchant reconnaissance—it's professional work."
A commotion in the courtyard below drew their attention to the window. Thom was emerging from the infirmary, his weathered face grim as he approached a group of new recruits who had been gathered around Sarra's archery demonstration. Even from their elevated position, they could see the tension in his movements, the way his hand rested near his weapon.
"Trouble brewing," Redna observed, her own hand instinctively moving to the knife at her belt.
They watched as one of the newer recruits—a young lord's second son from House Karstark named Torrhen—stepped forward to confront Thom directly. The distance made their words inaudible, but the aggressive postures and pointing fingers made the nature of the conversation clear enough.
"He's demanding proof," Lyanna said, recognizing the body language of frustrated ambition. "He wants to see demonstrations of the techniques that defeated a Kingsguard knight."
"Demonstrations we cannot provide," Vaeren said grimly, pocketing the suspicious powder. "Because what Arthur did in King's Landing goes far beyond anything we've learned here. The fundamentals are the same, but the applications..."
"Are we even teaching the right things?" Garron asked bluntly. "If these recruits expect to leave here capable of Arthur's level of ability, and we can't deliver..."
"They'll assume we're hiding the real techniques," Lyanna finished. "Or worse, they'll think we're frauds trading on Arthur's reputation."
The confrontation escalated quickly. More recruits gathered around, their voices rising in support of their spokesman's demands. Sarra had stopped her archery instruction entirely, her bow held loosely but ready. Thom stood his ground, but his position was becoming increasingly precarious as the crowd grew larger and more agitated.
"Torrhen's got them worked up," Garron observed. "He's been spreading stories about what 'real' northern warriors should be capable of. Claims his grandfather fought alongside men who could break stone with their bare hands."
"Dangerous talk," Redna said quietly. "It creates expectations we can't meet and makes them question everything we do teach them."
"We need to intervene," Garron said, already rising from his chair with the sort of controlled menace that had made him Arthur's most effective enforcer.
"Wait," Lyanna commanded, her voice carrying absolute authority despite her youth. "Let's see how this resolves. We need to understand what we're dealing with before we act."
Below, the situation reached a breaking point. Torrhen grabbed Thom by the shoulder and spun him around, his voice carrying clearly now: "Show us something real, old man! We didn't come here to learn tavern tricks!"
Thom's reaction was instant and devastating. A precise strike to a nerve cluster dropped Torrhen to his knees, followed by a pressure point technique that left the young lord gasping and temporarily paralyzed. The demonstration was over in seconds, but its effect on the watching recruits was immediate and profound.
The crowd stepped back, but instead of fear, their faces showed awe and hunger. Torrhen, once he could speak again, looked up at Thom with something approaching worship.
"That," Lyanna breathed, "is both exactly what we needed and exactly what we feared."
"Thom's technique was flawless," Garron admitted. "Arthur taught us all variations of those strikes, but Thom's developed it into something more refined. More... precise."
"We all have," Redna said quietly, her words carrying a weight of realization. "The training Arthur gave us was just the foundation. We've been building on it, developing our own applications, pushing the boundaries of what he showed us."
Vaeren nodded slowly, his alchemist's mind processing the implications. "We're not just Arthur's companions anymore. We're practitioners of his methods in our own right. Students who have become teachers, but teachers of techniques we're still developing ourselves."
"Which creates a cascade of problems," Lyanna said, watching as Thom helped Torrhen to his feet while the other recruits pressed closer with eager questions. "If we can demonstrate advanced techniques, if we can show abilities that approach Arthur's level, then every ambitious lord, every rival house, every foreign power that sees Arthur as a threat..."
"Will see us as either assets to acquire or threats to eliminate," Garron finished grimly.
A new commotion in the courtyard interrupted their discussion. A rider was approaching at full gallop, his horse lathered with sweat and foam, his colors bearing the direwolf of House Stark. He pulled up before the main building and immediately began demanding to speak with Arthur Snow's representatives, his voice carrying the urgency of important news.
"Lord Stark's summons," Redna said, recognizing the formal urgency in the messenger's manner. "He'll want explanations for what Arthur has done. Answers we don't have."
Lyanna straightened, feeling the weight of leadership settling on her shoulders like a heavy cloak. At fifteen, she was the youngest member of Arthur's inner circle, but her Stark blood and natural authority had made her their unofficial leader in his absence. The responsibility felt heavier with each passing day.
"Specific instructions," she said, her voice taking on the crisp decisiveness Arthur had taught them all. "Garron, gather the others—everyone who was part of the original company. Full council meeting within the hour. Redna, activate all our contacts. I want to know everything happening between here and King's Landing, and I want contingency plans for extraction if Arthur doesn't make it back."
"What about the new recruits?" Vaeren asked, gesturing toward the courtyard where Thom was now conducting an impromptu demonstration for his audience of converts. "They're expecting advanced training, and after that display..."
"They get the truth," Lyanna decided after a moment's consideration. "A carefully edited version, but the truth nonetheless. They came here to learn from Arthur Snow's methods. They'll get exactly that—from us. But we need to manage their expectations while keeping them committed to the training."
"And if they're not satisfied with 'carefully edited truth'?" Garron asked.
"Then we find out how much they've learned about loyalty along with combat techniques." Lyanna's expression hardened slightly. "Arthur didn't just teach us to fight. He taught us to think, to adapt, to make difficult decisions. If our recruits can't handle the complexity of real training, they weren't suitable students anyway."
As her companions dispersed to carry out her orders, Lyanna remained at the window, watching the controlled chaos below. Arthur had built something remarkable here—not just a training ground, but a community of individuals pushed beyond their normal limitations. Now that community faced its first real test: surviving Arthur's absence and the attention his actions had brought upon them all.
The messenger from Lord Stark could wait another hour. First, she needed to understand exactly what they had become in Arthur's shadow, and what they would need to become to survive the forces gathering around them.
The full council meeting convened in Arthur's private study, seven individuals who had been transformed by his training now facing the challenge of leadership without his guidance. The room felt smaller somehow with Arthur absent, as though his presence had been essential to maintaining its sense of purpose and direction.
"Report," Lyanna said simply, taking Arthur's usual seat at the head of the table.
Thom spoke first, his weathered face showing the strain of the day's events. "The demonstration was necessary, but it's accelerated everything. The recruits now expect daily advanced training. They want to learn the pressure point techniques, the breath control methods, the mental disciplines. Some are demanding to know when they'll be ready for 'real missions.'"
"How much can we actually teach them?" Sarra asked. "I've been working with the archery students, and while they're improving, the gap between what Arthur showed us and what we can pass on is... significant."
"That's the core problem," Vaeren said, pulling out a collection of notes and diagrams. "I've been analyzing our training progression versus Arthur's capabilities. We learned perhaps twenty percent of what he knows, and we can effectively teach maybe half of what we learned. The mathematics are troubling."
Maelen, who had been silent until now, spoke with the careful precision of age and experience. "There's something else. My... abilities have been expanding since Arthur left. The range, the clarity, the connection with animal minds—it's all growing stronger. I can maintain contact with ravens across hundreds of miles now."
"That's good news," Garron said, though his tone suggested he suspected complications.
"It would be, except for what I'm seeing through their eyes." Maelen's expression darkened. "Arthur is being followed. Not just by the obvious pursuit vessels, but by things that move beneath the waves, shadows that fly without wings. The eastern powers are mobilizing resources that go far beyond conventional assassination techniques."
The room fell silent as the implications sank in. Redna was the first to speak.
"If they're willing to deploy supernatural assets against Arthur..."
"Then they'll certainly use them against us," Lyanna finished. "We're not just Arthur's allies anymore. We're legitimate targets in our own right."
"The question," said Thom grimly, "is whether we're strong enough to survive that kind of attention. Arthur built us into something more than ordinary fighters, but are we ready for enemies that require his level of ability to defeat?"
Lyanna looked around the table at faces that had become as familiar as family. Each had grown in Arthur's shadow, developed skills and insights that set them apart from ordinary warriors. But Arthur had always been their anchor, their reference point for what was possible.
"We have advantages," she said finally. "We know Arthur's methods, we understand his thinking, and we have resources he helped us develop. More importantly, we have each other. Arthur didn't just train us individually—he built us into a coordinated unit."
"A unit facing enemies we don't understand," Vaeren pointed out. "My analysis of that powder suggests alchemical knowledge beyond anything in Westeros. If our enemies have access to eastern techniques..."
"Then we adapt," Lyanna said firmly. "Arthur taught us that the essence of his training wasn't specific techniques—it was the ability to analyze, adapt, and overcome. We apply those principles to whatever comes."
"And the recruits?" Sarra asked. "They're looking to us for leadership now, but they're expecting miracles we can't deliver."
"We give them what we can and prepare them for reality." Lyanna's voice carried the authority of decision made. "Full disclosure about the limitations of what we can teach, but also about the potential for growth beyond those limitations. Arthur didn't become what he is overnight—it was years of development, refinement, constant pushing of boundaries."
"Some will leave," Garron warned. "When they realize the truth about how long real mastery takes."
"Then they leave," Lyanna said simply. "We keep the ones with genuine dedication and help them understand what they're actually working toward. Quality over quantity has always been Arthur's approach."
Maelen shifted uncomfortably. "There's one more thing. The visions I've been having when I push my abilities to their limits... they're getting stronger. I see fire and blood, dragons stirring in distant places, ancient powers taking notice of events in Westeros. Arthur's actions in King's Landing have sent ripples through forces that most people don't even know exist."
"How long do we have?" Lyanna asked.
"Before what? Before the eastern assassins arrive? Before the political pressure becomes unbearable? Before whatever supernatural forces Maelen is sensing decide to act?" Thom spread his hands. "We're operating without information on multiple fronts."
"Then we prepare for all of them," Lyanna decided. "Defensive measures for the compound, extraction plans for critical personnel, training acceleration for our most promising recruits. And we send a message to Arthur."
"What message?" Redna asked.
"The truth. That his actions have consequences spreading faster than anyone anticipated, and that his company is ready to face them with or without him." Lyanna stood, her slight frame somehow commanding in the lamplight. "Arthur taught us to be more than followers. It's time to prove we learned that lesson."
As the meeting dispersed and the members of Arthur's company returned to their various responsibilities, Lyanna remained in the study, surrounded by maps, reports, and the weight of decisions that would affect everyone she cared about.
Outside, she could hear the sounds of evening training—recruits working with dedicated intensity, unaware of the larger forces gathering around their sanctuary. The Hollow Vale had become more than a training ground; it was now a target, a symbol, and a test of whether Arthur's methods could survive and spread without his direct presence.
A soft knock interrupted her contemplation. "Come," she called, and one of the newer recruits entered—a young woman named Mya, whose dedication had earned her a place among the more advanced trainees.
"Lady Lyanna," Mya said respectfully, "Master Thom sent me to inform you that the evening exercises are complete. All recruits accounted for, no injuries to report. But..." she hesitated.
"Speak freely."
"There's been talk, my lady. About what happened today, about what we're really learning here. Some of the recruits are asking if we're being prepared for something specific. They want to know if there's going to be a war."
Lyanna considered her response carefully. The recruits deserved honesty, but too much truth could cause panic or premature action.
"Tell them this," she said finally. "Arthur Snow built the Hollow Vale to train exceptional individuals for an exceptional world. What we learn here prepares us for challenges most people never face and opportunities most people never earn. Whether that leads to war, to service, or to something else entirely depends on choices we haven't made yet."
Mya nodded, though her expression suggested she understood the deeper implications. "Yes, my lady. Will Master Arthur be returning soon?"
"When he's ready," Lyanna replied. "Until then, we continue the work. We maintain the standards. And we prepare for whatever comes next."
After Mya left, Lyanna returned to the window, watching the last light fade from the western sky. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new decisions, new tests of their readiness for a world that was changing faster than anyone could have predicted.
Arthur Snow had set forces in motion that would reshape the political landscape of Westeros and beyond. His company—his true legacy—would soon discover whether they had learned enough to survive in the world he was creating.
In the distance, she could see lights moving along the horizon—travelers, merchants, or something else entirely. The Hollow Vale was no longer hidden, no longer protected by obscurity. They were players in the game now, whether they felt ready or not.
The real test was just beginning.