Theon rode at the head of the small column, his horse's hooves crunching against the frozen ground. Beside him were Ser Roderick, Medrick Manderly, and young Martyn Cassel, all stern and silent beneath their cloaks. The mountain surveyor rode a short, thick-necked courser bred for these harsh passes. Behind them came the wagons, laden with workers wrapped in furs. Each wagon was flanked by Stark and Manderly guards, their shields rimmed with frost, spears gleaming like shards of ice.
Among the passengers, Omero Seryn, Corlys Veynar, Tomaso Rullio, Shen Zhenwu, Lin Yueru, and Meiyun Dao huddled together. The North's cold gnawed even through the furs provided them. Lin Yueru and Meiyun Dao shivered the worst, their lips pale, their breaths sharp and visible in the air.
Seeing their suffering, Theon urged his horse closer.
"This is the North," he said with a small smile. "Our welcome may be harsh, but it is honest."
Meiyun's teeth chattered as she gave a small nod. "Yes… we know. But still—it is too much."
Theon laughed, his voice carrying in the wind. "Does Yi Ti not have winter? Snow?"
Lin Yueru raised her eyes from her scarf. "We have snow, we have cold. But not like this. Here, the air bites into your bones. Back home, even in the worst winter, there is still life—green beneath white. Here, it feels as though even the earth sleeps."
Theon grinned. "A fair way to put it. The North is a land that tests all who enter it. Even us Starks."
He rode alongside them a while in silence before curiosity took hold.
"Tell me—what is Yi Ti truly like? I've heard whispers from sailors. They say it is larger than Westeros. Some call it the jewel of the east. But is it true?"
Meiyun glanced at Yueru, then back to Theon. "Larger? Yes, much larger. Yi Ti is not merely a kingdom, but an empire. A thousand gods, a hundred princes, all beneath the rule of the Son of Heaven—the god-emperor. Our cities are vast, grander than any I've heard named in Westeros or Essos. Towers of jade and gold, gardens that bloom even in the coldest seasons, markets where you could walk for days and never see the same face twice."
Lin Yueru added softly, "Our histories go back tens of thousands of years, farther than your maesters believe possible. We remember things Westeros has long since turned into myth."
Theon raised his brow. "And yet, still ruled by one man?"
"Not a man," Meiyun corrected, her tone firm but respectful. "A god-emperor. He does not merely command armies or laws—he embodies the land itself. When he prospers, Yi Ti prospers. When he suffers, Yi Ti suffers. To rebel against him is to rebel against heaven."
Theon chuckled. "Sounds like Targaryens would have liked to claim such divinity. They thought themselves gods once too."
Meiyun smiled faintly. "Perhaps. But in Yi Ti, divinity is not claimed. It is inherited, sanctified, eternal."
Theon shook his head, amused. "In the North, we say every man must prove his worth in the snow, no matter his blood. A god-emperor in Winterfell would still have to chop wood and mend walls or freeze like the rest of us."
Yueru laughed softly, covering her mouth with her gloved hand. "And yet, your people follow your lords. You call it honor, do you not?"
"Aye," Theon admitted. "But our honor is not divine. It is flesh and blood, oath and steel. When a Stark swears, it binds us more tightly than any crown."
The wagons rolled on, the snow falling thicker now, and talk turned to legends.
Theon spoke first, telling the Westerosi tale of the Long Night—the Others with their swords of ice, the raising of wights, the Last Hero, dragonglass, and the Battle for the Dawn. He spoke of Bran the Builder, raising the Wall with stone and sorcery. His voice was steady, but there was weight in it, as though the tales were not merely history but warning.
Lin Yueru leaned forward eagerly. "And this Battle for the Dawn—was it led by Azor Ahai?"
Theon shrugged. "Some say yes. Others that it was the Last Hero, or many heroes remembered as one. Prophecies twist with each tongue that speaks them."
"Yet Azor Ahai is remembered differently in Yi Ti," Meiyun said, her eyes alight. "In our tales, the Long Night began with the Blood Betrayal. The Lion of Night was unleashed when the Maiden-Made-of-Light turned away from the world. The sun itself hid for a lifetime. And it was a woman with a monkey's tail who tricked the Lion and gave hope. The hero who rose against the darkness bore many names—Azor Ahai, Hyrkoon the Hero, Yin Tar, Eldric Shadowchaser. But always he wielded Lightbringer, the sword of fire, and led mankind to victory."
"Lightbringer," Theon mused. "We call it dragonglass. Strange, how many names the truth wears."
Shen Zhenwu, silent until now, spoke in his deep, measured tone. "But before Yi Ti, before the Golden Empire, there was another. The Great Empire of the Dawn. It spanned from the Bone Mountains to the Jade Sea, from the Shivering Sea to the Grey Waste. Its first ruler was the God-on-Earth, son of the Lion of Night and the Maiden-Made-of-Light. He ruled ten thousand years until he ascended to the stars. His children ruled after him—Pearl, Jade, Tourmaline, Onyx, Topaz, Opal. Each weaker than the last, until the Amethyst Empress rose… and was betrayed."
"The Bloodstone Emperor," Meiyun whispered, her tone dark.
Shen nodded. "Yes. He cast her down, practiced dark sorcery, feasted on human flesh, and turned from the gods to worship a black stone fallen from the sky. That Blood Betrayal brought the Long Night, and the Lion of Night walked the world in wrath. The darkness ended only when a great warrior rose, wielding Lightbringer once more. But the Great Empire was broken, scattered. The world was restored, but never whole again."
The wind howled through the trees, and for a time, only the crunch of hooves and the groan of wagons filled the silence.
Then Shen looked at Theon, his gaze steady. "May I ask you something, Lord Stark?"
"You may," Theon said.
"In the yard, when you swore your promise—that no miner's family would be left without care, that even orphans would be raised as your own—was it truth?"
Theon's brow arched, his expression hard as ice. Shen quickly bowed his head. "Forgive me. I mean no insult. It is only my curiosity. In Yi Ti, promises from lords… are often words alone."
Theon studied him, then smiled, laughter breaking through the cold. "You did not offend me, Shen. And to your question—yes, my word is truth. Not because I am a Stark. But because before I am Stark, I am a man. And no man should break his word to another."
Silence fell again, but this time it was different. The foreigners exchanged glances, some skeptical, some thoughtful, others quietly moved. In the endless cold, Theon's words burned like a small fire, enough to make them believe that perhaps, in the North, honor could indeed be stronger than death.
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