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Wildfire was a volatile liquid that burned fiercely and for a long time. It was extremely dangerous—once it touched anything flammable, it would ignite with wild intensity. Even water couldn't extinguish it; it would continue to burn right on the surface.
The Alchemists' Guild was responsible for producing this deadly substance. Back during the reign of the Mad King Aerys, the guild held great influence and even had a seat on the royal council. They manufactured vast stores of wildfire for him.
The Mad King used it cruelly, burning countless people alive. One of his victims was the father of Eddard Stark.
Eventually, Aerys planned to destroy all of King's Landing with wildfire. But before he could give the order, he was slain by Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard.
Since that day, Jaime had carried the name Kingslayer—a man who had murdered the very king he had sworn to protect. It became a permanent stain on his legacy.
Cole had told Davos about the wildfire's existence.
Above the sea, the white dragon circled, keeping watch over passing ships. Soon, Cole intercepted one—a merchant vessel traveling between Dorne and the Stormlands.
Camilo had been urgently recalled, leaving the training of both soldiers and civilians in the hands of José and himself.
The military camp was set up just outside the city walls.
"My lord, let me go with you," José said earnestly.
"No," Cole replied. "I need to leave trusted men behind at Storm's End. I don't know how long this journey north will take. But you must hold the castle until I return."
He gave clear instructions. "Avoid unnecessary conflict with Gilbert Farin. Stick to routine training and patrols. Your only duty is to garrison Storm's End. Refuse any outside missions. If you face a problem you can't solve, have someone write a message and hang it from a rope on the southeast wall corner."
"If word of a defeat comes from the front lines, gather all the militia into the keep. Declare them official soldiers of House Julius. I'll personally cover their food, clothing, shelter, and wages. Those who distinguish themselves in battle will be knighted and granted land in Summerhall."
"Yes, my lord," both men replied in unison.
Cole smiled. "Do you remember the first time we met?"
"You told me to take over a company, and I had no idea what I was walking into. I wasn't even a knight back then. When I arrived, I realized it was an army of serfs and fishermen," José recalled with a chuckle.
"Sir, I remember you asked who was willing to follow you," José added. "I was still deciding, but Camilo stepped up first. That boy always moved faster than the rest."
"I recognized Lord Cole's potential from the beginning," Camilo said proudly.
"Ha! Don't think I've forgotten what you actually said," José shot back. "You said he looked like some pampered noble's son and that if we followed him, we might not even see battle."
The two men had always teased each other like this, but there was no real malice. Cole, for his part, had always treated his people with kindness.
"Are you disappointed?" he asked. "Following me has only led to danger."
Camilo grinned. "The war isn't over, but I trust you—just like I did back then. Storm's End is yours, my lord. I'll guard it until you return."
Both men suddenly turned serious.
José said, "My lord, after you rescued me from those mercenaries, my life has been yours. Don't worry—if I fall in battle, I'll still be holding my sword when I hit the ground."
Camilo added, "Lord Cole, I will not fail you."
After entrusting them with the defense of Storm's End, Cole went to speak with Eddard Stark. He'd already sent word about the ship, but the journey would be long and storms could strike. Preparations had to be thorough.
As he walked through the corridors, he passed Arya Stark, who was still practicing her sword-dancing.
"Jon's little sister," Cole called out to her.
Arya turned around with an unhappy expression."My name is Arya. Arya Stark."
"Well then, Arya," Cole said as he approached, "Are you practicing your dancing again?"
"Where's your father?" he asked.
"Why do you want to see him?"
"To talk about sending you home," Cole replied.
Arya blinked in surprise. Was her father planning to send her back to Winterfell? Just like he had wanted Sansa to board the ship with her? Sometimes she imagined what it would've been like if they had all left King's Landing together—her, Sansa, Father, and even Syrio.
She often tried to reassure herself: Syrio had stayed behind to protect her from those Lannister guards and Ser Meryn Trant of the Kingsguard. Syrio was strong—surely, he'd be fine.
"Back to Winterfell?" she asked cautiously.
"Of course."
A smile spread across her face, and without another word, Arya led Cole to her father.
"My Lord."
The two men spoke for a while.
Eddard studied the young man before him. He was more handsome than most men Ned had met. He'd seen Renly Baratheon and the Tyrell youth they called the Knight of Flowers at court in King's Landing—but both fell short of the presence this young man held.
Eddard was never one to judge by appearances. But in the time they'd spent at Storm's End, Cole Julius had proven himself. Again and again, he had shown not only strength and bravery, but also compassion—qualities that had truly moved Eddard.
There was something familiar in his look. The silver hair, the quiet strength... He reminded Eddard of someone from long ago. Catelyn had told him what Cole had done at the Eyrie. Her uncle, Brynden Blackfish, had spoken highly of the boy. And Eddard believed him—he would've done the same, were he there.
At times, Cole's presence stirred old ghosts—memories of Rhaegar Targaryen, the man whose actions had set everything in motion. Painful memories, shared with Robert, that refused to fade.
But that couldn't be. Eddard had seen the bodies of Rhaegar's children with his own eyes. The baby wrapped in bloodstained cloth... they had called him Aegon—a name passed down through the Targaryen line for generations.
Still, every time he saw silver hair, he couldn't help but think of Rhaegar—and then of Lyanna.
His gaze drifted to Arya, standing silently nearby.
"I've secured a ship," Cole said. "We'll have men escort you to White Harbor. But the road is long, and the seas are dangerous. We must be well prepared."
"Gods be merciful... Thank you, truly," Eddard said. His family had always worshipped the Old Gods, and in the dungeons of the Red Keep, he had prayed to them more times than he could count.
He now sat in a chair, bathed in sunlight. The maester had said the attic was too cold for healing, so each day, Catelyn helped him to this spot by the window.
"Is there any news from the North?" Eddard asked, unable to hide the hope in his voice.
The North felt so far away. Even ravens seemed to take forever to reach it.
"No word yet," Cole replied.
Still nothing. No news from Robb. No news from Winterfell.