The Winter kingdom

Version 2.0

As the North remained locked in its unrelenting cycle of skirmishes and raids, time passed like the slow, grinding turn of a millstone. Each kingdom gained, as small forces to harass neighbours, claim resources, and keep their rivals on their toes.

Amidst this chaos, the Winter Kingdom began to distinguish itself not just by its martial prowess but by its medical knowledge. The medical team had started to gain a reputation both in the kingdom and with other Kingdoms. From the love of them soldiers to the people they heal outside of just soldiers, the people and Kings of the North loved the idea of them.

Wounded soldiers returned to good health under the care of these healers, and even peasants who happened to catch the eye of a medic marvelled at the skills and seeming magical powers. The team had started to gain quite a reputation and starting to become quite the prestigious roles in the kingdom, not dissimilar to slingers.

The problem for them was the limited access to this knowledge and soon came a flood of eager aspirants. Elara quickly found herself overwhelmed. Every day, hopefuls from all walks of life arrived at Winterfell, pleading for a chance to join the healers.

The constant attention became unbearable for Elara. She could scarcely walk through the village of Winterfell without being stopped by someone asking how they could join or demanding to know the team's secrets. Frustrated, she told them all to go to Brandon and ask him, hoping that the name of the King would send them away, she underestimated people's willingness and boldness.

Thus, the House of Healing was born after Brandon and Elara thought of a fix, a place where aspiring healers could come to learn the art of medicine. Fortunately for them, one of the long-time healers on the team wanted to start a family and was willing to take command of it.

It worked on charity for those who were healed as they paid for the treatment with whatever they could afford or were willing to give. New trainees would heal and help those taken by sickness after they were vetted by the house to see their willingness to learn and the care that they give to patients.

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Even as the news of the opening of the House of Healing, the skirmishes persisted. Many Kingdoms still struggled with the cold and failing fields except for one, fields of frost-hardy grains and root vegetables spread across the Winterfell field, their muted greens defying the harsh cold.

For the first time in ages, food was plentiful. Families no longer rationed their meals with tears in their eyes, and children finally grew back some meat on their bones as their cheeks red with health. More animals were kept, their numbers growing with the assurance of enough feed through the long winters. And with the guidance of Harlan's brother, Sam, and his selective breeding of animals they were bigger and healthier than ever.

The success of the winter crops didn't stay confined to Winterfell for long. Traveling villages took the news and seeds back to the villages, with most of them coming from villages close to Winterfell. Soon fields will grow again and the spreading of knowledge of selective breeding with it.

Harlen's role in this was undeniable. His research and want had given the Kingdom something everyone desperately wanted and needed.

Brandon, recognizing the magnitude of Harlen's contribution, Harlen was awarded the title of Jarl. Taking the name Whitehill, for the snow-dusted hill where his family had grown up and where his idea had first borne fruit. His family words, he declared, would be "Always Growing."

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The North, ever embroiled in its web of skirmishes and rivalries, carried on as the seasons turned. Villages fortified their walls, kings guarded their lands, and soldiers marched. Until Brandon got odd news.

He got fragmented word carried by travellers and leaving villagers. In the Slate King's lands, something was amiss. Mercenaries were clashing with the king's forces. Brandon could not get a full story as everyone said something different, but they agreed that there was fighting but he got no ask for help so Brandon did nothing.

Then came news of a big battle. The clash was brutal but brief, and the word spread that Edwyn had emerged victorious, crushing the rebellious mercenaries and restoring order to his lands.

And then—nothing.

No traders arrived from the Slate King's lands. Traders had slowed due to winter and all its problems but some still did but none came from Slate Lands. The usual flow of travellers ceased entirely. Roads now sat empty. The borders on the Red King's lands seemed to go quiet if what Harmond and Forst had said was true.

Nothing came back, no news, no ravens, nothing.