The Northern wind howled through the bare branches of the Wolfswood, casting cold mist against the towers of Hornwood Castle. The fortress, modest but resilient, stood like a final bulwark between the dark woods and the outside world. There, in that haven of stone and timber, a young lord of eighteen prepared to change his destiny.
Halys Hornwood was no ordinary young man. In his mind, memories of another life, another time, and another world intertwined— a past existence stolen from him to be reborn in this moment and place. He remembered the pain and the losses clearly, but also the wisdom he now possessed. This rebirth was a gift… and a burden.
"I cannot fail," Halys whispered as he looked out the great hall window at his younger siblings playing in the courtyard. Those youthful faces, full of energy and life, were the reason he had to be strong.
Beside him, Danella Hornwood, his older sister, entered the hall with the determination that had always defined her. Her red hair lit up the gray day, and her firm voice echoed.
"Halys, winter is coming. We can't sit and wait for the storms to strike us. If you want Hornwood to survive and grow, you must act now."
"I know," he replied, turning to face her. "That's why I'll use half the house's treasure to organize a caravan heading south. We'll buy furs in quantities no other northern merchant can match, and sell them in the Crownlands and the Westerlands. That multiplied gold will be our seed."
Ricard, the thoughtful brother, stepped forward with an unfolded map, pointing to the lesser-known routes.
"We'll avoid Bolton-controlled lands," he said. "The roads east to White Harbor and then south will be long, but safe if we're careful."
Robert, the youngest and most hot-headed, snorted.
"What about bandits? I don't want some gang of thieves ambushing us and leaving us with nothing."
Then Eddard, the eldest of the younger siblings and a natural warrior, fixed his gaze on Robert and spoke in a deep voice.
"That's what we've planned for. We'll hire the Whitebeards."
Danella raised an eyebrow.
"The Whitebeards? The old men?"
"Yes," Halys nodded. "They've survived many wars, many winters, and know that cold and hunger show no mercy. Many volunteer to avoid being just another mouth to feed during the long, frozen nights. They're the toughest and most experienced, and their scars tell stories no young man could ever understand."
"And will they really be enough to protect a caravan?" asked Lyrra, the youngest sister, doubt in her voice.
"More than any untrained youth," Eddard replied with conviction. "Their tactics, patience, and knowledge of the terrain are powerful weapons. They are a shield worth their weight in gold."
The Whitebeards, a group of grizzled veterans hardened by life, came each winter to offer their service to House Hornwood. Their reputation was feared and respected—no one knew the cruelty of war and the hardships of winter better.
As Halys spoke with the Whitebeards' leader, a man named Bryn with a snow-white beard and a piercing gaze, they began to plan the logistics of the caravan.
"We'll need at least a hundred sturdy wagons," Halys explained. "Strong horses, enough for cargo and transporting men and goods."
"And several hundred soldiers," Eddard added. "House Hornwood has about five hundred men in peacetime, but we can rally up to two thousand with levies from peasants and allies. For this caravan, we'll need between four and five hundred trained, armed men, with at least a hundred Whitebeards as the vanguard and escort."
Bryn nodded solemnly.
"There will be no better protection in these frozen, wooded lands."
The caravan then began to take shape. Over three hundred horses, one hundred reinforced wagons, and nearly five hundred men—warriors, guards, merchants, and peasants—were preparing to head south into unknown, risky, but promising lands.
In the castle, preparations continued. The stables filled with new horses acquired in White Harbor—strong and trained for long marches. The workshops worked day and night to provide weapons, armor, and provisions.
Politics, however, lurked in the shadows. Roose Bolton, lord of nearby Dreadfort, watched Hornwood's growing activity with disdain.
"Do they think they can defy me?" Roose murmured, clenching his fists. "Hornwood is a toy on this board. I won't allow it to grow without paying the price."
That unseen threat loomed over Halys as he led the final meeting in the great hall, carrying the weight of legacy and memories of his former life.
"Siblings, this is only the beginning," he said, looking at Danella, Eddard, Ricard, Robert, and Lyrra. "Hornwood is reborn today, and nothing and no one will stop us."
The day the caravan departed, a mixture of excitement, fear, and hope filled the air. The torches were lit, the horses neighed, and the ground trembled beneath the determined steps of those carrying the future of a house on their backs.
As they advanced into the woods, Halys couldn't stop thinking about the road ahead: long days of travel, hidden dangers, and the power game that slowly moved across the North.
But one thing was certain—this time, he was ready to face it.