Chapter 5: Of inventions and war
I ain't got shiiiiiiiiiiiiiet... All rights are own by GRRM and HBO. Not me... Which explains season 5-8...
"speech"
'thoughts'
Circa 287 AC
Beor was a tad nervous. The maester, his cousin Jorah, his mum and his sisters were seated in the Lord's solar, waiting for him to begin his little presentation.
He had wracked his brain on the best way to introduce his ideas and couldn't of anything other than laying it all down in front of them. He was a child in their eyes, yes, but they have already realized how brilliant he was in his studies. He had also commandeered the smithy a few time and harassed blacksmith until he made him a few tools that he was often seen tinkering around with.
It had taken him a few weeks to draw plans and make them understandable for the people around him. Some were simple, like the crop-livestock rotation, an evolved form of the normal crop rotation system. The seed drill was rather simple, as well, especially now that summer was almost there according the maesters at Old Town.
Other plans he had, however were a lot more complicated, and as if now, introducing them was, dare he say, risky.
For now, some for of spirits, maybe whisky or vodka, would be an interesting experiment. He was never much of a drinker, but he really thought the spirits would be a big hit in the North.
The water powered saw mills were next, though he was also thinking about also manufacturing paper, or sugar from beets. The big stuff however, he will implement when the field is more... leveled in his favour. He knew of Jorah's glory seeking tendencies and did not trust him one bit with the more important inventions. But these were a few he was willing to part with if need be. Besides, food security in Bear Island was much more important that evading his cousin's clumsy attempt at controlling him.
So today was the big day. Weeks of preparations led to this moment. He started his pitch, explained in minute details on what machines and processes did. Of course, he didn't have to schematics out, just plain pictures that he drew himself, or simple diagrams.
When he began, he could see they were just humouring him, like the child he was. Slowly, the atmosphere in the room started to change. Jorah and Maege were silently listening, some of the terms and concept going over their heads, but doing their best to keep up.
Dacey and Alysanne, bless their souls, were lost like a miner at sea. They seemed however generally impressed with the presentation, nodding here and there when they recognized a word. Maester Lowry, though, just sat there, eyes wide, slack, his complexion becoming paler and paler at each new invention or process introduced.
The room had been silent a few minutes until they realized he was done talking. Lowry, released a breath he didn't know he was holding. Maege had her usual proud smile on her face, Alysanne and Dacey were chatting quietly. Jorah, however, had quite the pensive frown on his face.
"How do you even know all that? I have seen maesters almost ten times your age, who have spent their whole life researching and compiling notes, and none of them never thought of this. How come you do?" exclaimed Lowry, a tad louder than he intended, maybe. What he just witness was nothing shy of a miracle.
Surprisingly, it was Jorah who interjected, looking sternly at the maester: "Do mind how you speak to my cousin, my good man. He his a boy, but he his a noble, and he will be addressed as such."
"My apologies, my lords. This outburst was unbecoming of me. I beg for your forgiveness, Lord Beor."
"Think nothing of it, maester Lowry. All his forgiven", the boy answered, slightly bemused by the interjection.
" He is right, however," Jorah continued, frowning at his cousin, a confused look on his face " How did you come about such knowledge, Beor?"
"It's the dreams, isn't it? Dacey piped.
"Dreams? What dreams?" This time, it was Maege who talked, now visibly interested in where this was going.
"Hmm", Beor hesitated, seemingly not knowing how to continue.
"Speak cousin, what dreams does she mean?"
Beor took a deep breath, to set his mind straight. All this work was for this moment. "I've been having dreams for the few past months, usually after I pray at the weirwood tree. They come to me sometimes in dreams, some other times in visions. I see things, machines of all sizes. I..." He stopped, taking a deep breath, "I've seen the Others too.
That seemed to break the spell, Jorah chuckling and the maester scoffing at him.
"Sometimes, I'm afraid we forget how young you are, Beor. You are smart, my boy, and you have given us a lot to think about. I will seriously consider your ideas and implement them, if the maester judges them sound. This was interesting, to say the least." Jorah said, moving from his seat and patting the head of Beor, some pride sipping through his playful ribbing. He moved towards the maester and Maege and the three of them were soon busy talking about whatever it is adults talk about.
"Don't worry little brother", Alysanne said innocently, wrapping her arms around Beor, " if the others come for you, Dacey and I will protect you, I promise."
Beor smiled at his cute sisters, knowing they were as serious as the pox. He did feel a bot bad about manipulating them into unknowingly helping him, however. Not a lot, really. Just a teeny tiny bit.
Time skip to 289 AC
Beor watched his sparring partner tumble over from a slam of his shield. He sighed, looking at the teenager silently throwing a tantrum at being beaten by a mere child. 'What was it now, five, six? I have better things to do, you know?' he thought, glancing at his mother who was watching the scene with rapt attention.
Since he turned six, she has been personally supervising his training. It was fun at first, then it got tedious. He was a tad clumsy at the beginning, not being used to moving around in a child's body, but he soon got the hang of it. In his past life, he had never had weapon training. Best he ever did was stick fighting with his friends on the playground.
Not to say he was unfamiliar with fighting. He did compete in wrestling in high school and even got a scholarship to keep going, though he never excelled at that level. Later in life, due to a misguided way to reclaim his waning youth, he took up MMA, loved it so much he even went on to compete on the regional scene. He had some minor successes until he met a young twenty-five year old who proceeded to beat the ever living snot out of him. Not that there was any shame in that, as the young man went on to become the dominant champion in the light heavyweight division. How many can say that they had lost to the champion? 'Well, everybody, I suppose' he thought, wryly.
The beating reminded him how much he enjoyed science and he went on to finish a master's degree in biochemistry to go with his degree in chemical engineering. He did continue training but only to stay in shape, as the saying did stay true. Fighting is a young man's game.
So here he was, eleven years of age, staring at his freshly beaten opponent, still struggling to get to his feet. He gave his mother a pleading look. He had been at this for half a hour, and none of his opponents had lasted more than five minutes. And that was a daily occurrence at this point.
He did not win due to some otherworldly talent in swordplay. Indeed, he didn't even use a sword, favouring the mace like his mother and sisters. What he didn't have in talent however, he more than made up in raw athleticism. He was strong, fast and durable, worryingly so. At the cusp of manhood, at ten and one, he stood a five feet and eight inches, much taller than the average woman in Westeros, he was much stronger than most teenagers and could hold his own against men grown, though nothing could bridge the experience gap.
All that to say, he had no real interest in fighting children, and the competition didn't make it any more enjoyable.
"Well done, little bear!" Maege exclaimed, a proud smile on her face. "Now", she continued standing up, stretching her arms and back, " it's time for you to learn from the best"
'Oh, come on!' Beor thought, paling. He had never, in all of his bouts been able to best his mother.
She took the center of the training ground, about fifteen feet away from him. " Have at me, boy. Don't let me come to you, if you know what's in your best interest." she said beckoning him, a smug smile on her face.
Sighing in resignation, he adjusted his helmet, adopted a defensive stance, shield up and mace at the ready. Slowly, he made his way towards his mother, cautious of any sudden move. When he got about an arm length away, he threw a feint, experimentally, to see her reaction.
Maege barely acknowledged it, albeit she did lift het shield higher. Beginning the hostilities, Beor swung his mace, throwing a overhand blow, aimed at his mother's weapon wielding arm. She deftly sidestepped the attack, a throw an attack of her own on the opposite side. They continued like that for a minute or so, Maege unable to overpower him, and Beor not making any headway.
They continued their bout, the mother scoring a few hits on her son, and him just absorbing the damage and hanging in there. One lucky blow from Maege however, whipped around his shield, held to close to him a caught him square where the neck met the shoulder. What happened next , the boy would never know for sure.
He didn't know if it was the exertion, the fact that he was being forced to do something he didn't want to do, or maybe it was that damn smug smile on Maege's face.
Maybe it was a mix of all of these. But whatever it was, he saw red.
To the spectators they saw the boy grit his teeth, and ram his shield into his mother, lifting her off her feet. Maege, in an impressive show of dexterity quickly regained her footing and went straight back into attacking. She started raining blows on her son, some he blocked with his shield, some he didn't bother with. He grabbed her wrist mid swing and letting go of his shield hoisted her over his shoulders, slamming her into the ground. Not wasting a second, he pounced on her, and curling his fists started wailing into her, not aiming for any spot in particular, all the while roaring like a wild animal.
Torrhen and the others snapped out of their daze, seeing Maege losing was a rare sight indeed, and tried separating the fighters. Beor still, in the fog of war, bowled into a poor guard that the misfortune of being too close. He picked up the man over his head, and threw it like a log at another spectator. The berserker rage not abating, he started fighting everything in sight.
It took his father and three other grown men to restrain him until he calmed down, out of breath and drenched in sweat. The last thing he heard, before passing out was the merry laugh of his mother, no doubt pleased at the chaos her son caused.
To say that the boy was contrite was an understatement. Although no one got seriously hurt- A black eye and a few bruises ribs for Maege and a few loose teeth for some other unfortunate souls- he was still shaken by how he lost control.
Having always been a calm and reasonable person before, it was weird for him to get into those bouts of rage. He didn't quite know how to deal with the anger issues. They seem to flare up randomly, though the occurrences seemed to be getting closer and closer , which why worrying him to no end.
He made his way to his mother quarters. only to find them empty. He kept on looking around trying to find where she might have gone, wondering until he stumbled into a large gathering in the mess hall, Jorah was speaking to the servants, the mood somber.
"The Iron Islands have broken the peace and declared war upon the Iron Throne. Lord Stark has called his banners to arms, and I intend to answer the call. We shall find and show the reavers and pirates who maintains the King's peace in Beat Island! Fight with me, my friends and brothers, fight with me for honour and duty!"
The room exploded in clamour, the people eager to finally stick it to the Ironborn for once. Jorah looked at him, and motioned to follow him. They walked quietly into his solar were Maege and Lowry seemed to have bee waiting for them.
His mum smiled at him, but the smile did not reach her face. Lowry looked as somber.
Jorah cleared his throat, redirecting his attention to him. He looked at Beor pointedly.
The boy felt a lump form in his throat.
"Beor, he begun, solemn tone to his voice," you have been real boon to house Mormont, your ideas have kept food in our granaries and made our life much richer and much better. However, you are almost a man grown. It is time for you to do your duty as a man of this House. I have talked to your mother, and she agreed. It is high time you made your claws. It is time for you to show our enemies where we stand. You and I, cousin, we are going to war."
And that's a wrap. it's late and I'm tired. didn't really proofread this one, so forgive the grammar on that one. Hope you enjoy it though.
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