Chapter 18 – Shadows and Scrolls

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Year: 271 AC

Location: Winterfell

POV: Arthur Snow

Arthur wiped soot from his fingers and adjusted the blade at his hip. Snow drifted outside the smithy loft, but it was quiet. Too quiet.

Not the peace of Winterfell.

The kind of quiet that came when prey sensed a predator nearby.

He looked up. A raven watched from the rooftop. It hadn't moved in hours.

Another perched near the bell tower. Same black eyes. Same silence.

The third one circled the Godswood tree that morning.

Arthur clicked his tongue and stepped outside.

The raven on the rooftop cawed once.

He didn't bother hiding his movement. In a blur, his hand flashed to the small throwing blade tucked inside his sleeve.

The raven didn't react fast enough.

Thud.

It dropped, neck snapped from impact.

Arthur walked over, picked up the bird's still-warm body, and tossed it into the forge. Fire hissed. Feathers curled.

"One down," he muttered. "Send another if you like."

He wasn't Junghyeok Baek anymore, but his patience hadn't changed. Gods, beasts, or men—watching him too long was a risk.

And Winterfell was watching.

Not just the crows.

Word had spread faster than wildfire.

Everyone knew.

That it was Arthur Snow, the blacksmith's bastard apprentice, who caught and killed the assassin.

Some said he slit the man's throat with a spoon. Others claimed he used dark sorcery.

Arthur ignored all of it.

He'd done what needed to be done.

But what came next needed planning, not swordplay.

He needed knowledge. Of houses. Of alliances. Of histories.

And there was only one place to get it.

The Maester's tower was cold, lit by half-burnt candles and crumbling books. Maester Walys sat hunched over a ledger, ink-stained fingers twitching with age.

"You're not supposed to be here," Walys said without looking up.

"I need to learn," Arthur said. "And you know why."

The Maester finally looked. "A blacksmith's apprentice asking for noble bloodlines and maps of Westeros? What's next? Do you want to write the Annals of the Realm?"

Arthur stepped closer. "You saw what I did."

Walys frowned. "Aye. I saw."

"I didn't do it for favor or coin," Arthur said. "I did it because no one else acted. But if I'm to protect this House again, I need to understand the realm."

The Maester studied him. "You want to protect the Starks?"

"I want to protect what matters," Arthur said. "And I need more than steel to do that."

Walys tapped a quill against the table. "Lord Rickard already ordered me to give you access to my lower texts. He didn't say I had to like it."

Arthur's brows rose slightly. "I didn't know that."

"He said the same thing you just did. Word for word."

Arthur allowed himself the faintest grin. "Then let's begin."

"You'll start by copying every major House's sigil and seat from Great Lords of the Realm," Walys said. "Neatly. Any mistakes, you start again."

"Deal," Arthur said.

"And stay away from my ravens," Walys added. "I've lost three this week."

Arthur looked at the window.

A single raven perched on a tree, watching.

Arthur glared. "You'll be next."

The bird flinched.

That night, Arthur studied beneath dim candlelight. Names, bloodlines, territories. Allies. Enemies.

If the world wanted to spy on him, so be it.

He would learn everything about it in return.

Because the next time someone tried to strike, they wouldn't be leaving alive.