The tension in the great hall hung like fog over the Skagosi village leaders, thick with uncertainty and murmured resistance. They stood in a loose semicircle before Hadrian Peverell, whose commanding presence now held their reluctant attention. The flickering torchlight cast their faces in alternating shadows and light, reflecting the conflict in their hearts and minds. These men and women, hardened by the harsh reality of Skagos, had never known change. Tradition had ruled their lives for as long as they could remember, and the island had always been a place where strength dictated law.
The murmuring of voices grew louder among the leaders, some of them still voicing their misgivings in hushed tones, while others discussed what they had seen and heard. The younger leaders, in particular, seemed torn between skepticism and hope. They knew the ways of Skagos were brutal and old, but many had never imagined anything else. This new vision for their homeland was both terrifying and intoxicating.
At last, it was the elder who had spoken earlier, the one with the scar down his face, who stepped forward again. His name was Torrek, a man who had led his village through years of raids, wars, and bitter winters. He was a man of action, a man who had always relied on his strength and cunning to lead. But even he could not deny what stood before him now: a leader unlike any Skagos had ever known.
"You speak of a future we can barely imagine," Torrek said, his voice gruff, but with a hint of grudging respect. "Of cities, schools, laws... of roads and farms where our people will live better lives than we've ever known. We've lived by the old ways for generations, but you... you've shown us something that none of us have ever seen."
He paused, glancing back at the other leaders, as if to gauge their reactions before continuing. "But how is it possible? How could you raise a castle from the ground as you did? How could you change everything so quickly? No man has that kind of power. Are you... a god?"
The question hung in the air, the weight of it causing a few of the leaders to shift uncomfortably on their feet. It was a question that had been whispered among them from the moment they had seen the city. They had heard of magic, of course, but magic was something distant, something from the stories of old. To witness it firsthand was something else entirely.
Hadrian's dark eyes met Torrek's, and he smiled faintly—not a condescending smile, but one of quiet understanding. He had anticipated this question. He knew that the Skagosi, steeped as they were in old traditions and beliefs, would eventually question the nature of his power.
"I am no god," Hadrian said, his voice calm but resolute. "I am a man, like any of you. But I am also blessed."
The leaders exchanged glances, their skepticism tempered by curiosity.
"The old gods," Hadrian continued, "the gods you and your ancestors have prayed to for generations, have granted me a gift. I have magic, yes, and with it, I have the ability to shape the world around me in ways that others cannot. The weirwoods know my name, and through them, I have been granted the power to do what I have done here."
He gestured to the towering walls of the castle, to the city beyond. "This is not sorcery, nor is it the work of demons or dark forces. It is the blessing of the old gods, and it is through their will that I will guide Skagos into the future."
The hall was silent as his words sank in. Some of the leaders, those who had been raised with deep reverence for the old gods, bowed their heads slightly, as if acknowledging the divine nature of what Hadrian was saying. Others, however, remained wary. Magic was a dangerous thing in their eyes—unpredictable, untamable. But the evidence was undeniable. The castle around them was real, the city outside was real, and Hadrian had shown them that he wielded this power with purpose.
"How can we trust magic?" one of the younger leaders, a woman named Alara, asked. She had a sharp, calculating mind, and though she was not yet an elder, her village had sent her as their voice. "The old gods may have blessed you, but we've all heard tales of those who wielded magic for their own gain. What makes you different?"
Hadrian met her gaze, unflinching. "Because I do not seek to rule Skagos for my own gain. I seek to make it stronger—for all of you. The old ways have kept you alive, yes, but they have also kept you weak in the eyes of the world. The Seven Kingdoms see you as raiders, as savages. They fear you, but they do not respect you."
Alara's sharp eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.
"Skagos has potential," Hadrian continued. "It has the strength of its people, the untamed wildness of its land. But you are isolated. Cut off from the rest of the world, you've clung to traditions that have long since lost their meaning. I offer you something different. I offer you a future where Skagos is respected, not just feared. A future where your children will not grow up in a world of endless bloodshed and raids, but in a world where they can thrive."
He took a step closer, his voice steady and commanding. "That is why I must change the laws of this island. That is why the rite of strength, the old customs like the right of the first night, must end. They are relics of a past that no longer serves you. Skagos will still be Skagos, but it will be stronger, more capable of standing on equal footing with the rest of the North."
Torrek crossed his arms over his chest, his brow furrowed. "And where will our people live in this new Skagos of yours? You've raised this city, but not all of us are city folk. Our villages—what happens to them?"
Hadrian inclined his head, acknowledging the concern. "I understand that not everyone will want to live in the city. It was built to be the heart of Skagos, a place where trade, governance, and learning will take place. But I do not intend to uproot your people from the lives they've known. There will still be villages—farming villages, where your people can work the land, live as they have for generations. I will ensure that these villages are well-supported, with roads connecting them to the city. Trade routes will be established, and the people will be able to move freely between the city and the countryside."
"Farming villages?" a skeptical voice called out from the back. "You mean to say we'll just become like the soft southerners, tilling fields and planting crops while the real men rot in the city?"
Hadrian's eyes flicked toward the speaker, a wiry man with a scowl etched permanently on his face. "There will always be a place for warriors, for those who wish to defend their homes and people. But strength is not only found in battle. The land itself must be made strong if the people are to survive. You will not be abandoning the ways of Skagos by farming. You will be ensuring that your people are fed, that they have the means to grow and prosper."
He let his gaze move across the room, catching the eyes of each leader in turn. "The city is not meant to replace the villages. It is meant to complement them. To give your people a center of strength, a place where knowledge can grow, where trade can flourish. And speaking of knowledge..."
Hadrian's voice shifted slightly, becoming less formal, more conversational. "One of the greatest weaknesses of Skagos has always been its isolation. The people here have been cut off from the wider world, and with that isolation comes ignorance. I intend to change that as well."
This drew curious looks from several of the leaders. "What do you mean?" Alara, one of the elders, asked.
"Schools," Hadrian said simply. "I will build schools in the city, and in time, in the villages as well. Every child, regardless of their station, will be given the opportunity to learn—to read, to write, to understand the world beyond Skagos. Knowledge is power, and it is power that will allow Skagos to grow, to stand strong against any threats that may come."
A ripple of surprise went through the room. Schools were a foreign concept to most of these people. Education was not something they had ever considered for their children. Life on Skagos was about survival, not learning letters and numbers.
"Schools?" Torrek repeated, his voice filled with skepticism. "You think we'll become scholars now?"
Hadrian smiled faintly. "No, not scholars. But your children will be able to read the maps that show them the seas beyond Skagos. They'll be able to calculate the stores needed to survive a harsh winter. They'll understand the wider world in a way that none of you ever have. And that knowledge will make Skagos stronger."
There was a long silence as the leaders absorbed what Hadrian was saying. For many of them, this was a radical idea. But there was something in his words that stirred a sense of possibility, of hope. Even those who had been the most resistant to change could not deny that the old ways, while familiar, had kept them in a constant state of struggle. Hadrian was offering something more.
Torrek finally spoke again, his voice softer this time. "You speak of change, and you have shown us power we've never seen before. But Skagos is not a place that accepts change easily. There will be resistance."
Hadrian nodded. "I expect that. Change is never easy. But it is necessary. And with your help, we can guide Skagos into a future where it is not just surviving, but thriving."
Alara stepped forward again, her sharp eyes fixed on Hadrian. "You've convinced us to follow you, for now. But how can we be sure that your vision will benefit us all? How do we know that this isn't just another lord's promise of a better future, only to serve his own interests?"
Hadrian met her gaze, unwavering. "Because I am not doing this for myself. I have lived long enough to know that power for power's sake is meaningless. The old gods have given me this magic, this long life, not for my own gain, but to see their will done. And their will is to see Skagos rise."
The room fell into a thoughtful silence once more. The leaders exchanged glances, nods of understanding passing between them. Hadrian had laid out his vision clearly. Some still had their doubts, but they could not deny the power he wielded, nor could they ignore the sense of purpose that radiated from him.
At last, Torrek spoke, his voice firm. "We will follow you, Hadrian Peverell. You have shown us what is possible, and we will give you the chance to lead. But know this: Skagos does not bow easily. You may have our loyalty now, but we will be watching. You claim to be blessed by the old gods—prove to us that their will is truly in your heart."
Hadrian nodded, accepting the challenge. "I will. Together, we will build a future worthy of Skagos."
With that, the leaders began to disperse, their footsteps echoing through the great hall as they left to return to their villages. They would carry Hadrian's words back to their people, spreading the vision of a new Skagos. It would not be easy, but Hadrian knew that the seeds of change had been planted.