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Chapter Text

Chapter Text

(Author's Notes: Hi! So this is a rewrite of the original prologue. You're probably asking yourself. “Why?” Well… Simply put, a situation occurred on Royal Road where someone reported the story for using irl political figures and being too political. 

But with further talks with support, it seems all I may have to do is have more clarity in my prologue. So that is what this rewrite is for. Hope this clears things up. Sorry for blue balling anyone who thought this was Chapter 7. I am going to work on that right after this is up. Also, I was planning on redoing this anyway so might as well now. Enjoy!)

“There are no problems we cannot solve together, and very few that we can solve by ourselves.”

-Lyndon B. Johnson

March 21st, 2023, Sunspot Solar Observatory, New Mexico

Scientists are hard at work at the S.S.O. exploring our star. The Sun. Rumors have been spreading on the reason why. The official reason? Celebration and “checkups” on the telescope for “abnormalities.” 

Students from the New Mexico State University, the same university who operate the telescope had examined the sun on a trip to the Observatory and spotted some anomaly coming from the sun. Of course, this was initially brushed off as a “Telescope malfunction” and the students were ushered away. 

But upon further inspection by the more experienced staff, they also found the same anomaly and declared that it was no malfunction, but actually happening before the Observatory staff's own eyes. Scientists were called in from the University in Las Cruces to confirm their findings. And what they saw was nothing short of extraordinary. Whips of radiation with length half a million miles reaching toward the outer solar system, making the sun look sporadic, almost animal-like, wild, and untamed. At first, the Scientists were baffled.

“S-something must be wrong with this damned thing! Let's open her up and check.” A lead scientist said aloud. 

Nothing. Absolutely nothing wrong that was found.

More scientists were called from other universities and facilities around the country, even some from other countries like Canada, Mexico, and the United Kingdom, and all of them came to the same conclusion. Strange, wild solar whips stretching out into the black. 

The international community all across the globe was then called upon to check their own sun observatories and point their telescope at the sun. The result?

Massive solar storms headed towards the outer solar system, It seems to be a once-in-a-millennium event. At first it was believed that it would be celebrations for all, with rewards going to the Scientists who found the phenomenon.

Upon further inspection, something was amiss. Sure enough, after analysing the speed around the sun, and the sporadic speed of the whips. One whip will hit Earth in mid-October, so little over two years from now. All of sudden, the celebration turned into dread.

The world must know, but how do you tell a planet of eight billion souls that they all might be dead in a few years if no action is taken? Simple answer? The Truth. To survive as a species, humanity  must put aside their differences and work together, at least for a while.

A U.N. Emergency General Assembly Session is called with every major scientist to present their findings to the world, many do not believe what they are hearing. Is a solar storm coming to destroy us? Impossible some would say!

All representatives are given time to correspond with their respective national scientists to confirm the findings. And every single one of them, confirms the fears. “The time to act is now!” The lead scientist says to the assembly, “If we do nothing, We die.” He says. Voice Shaky with fear.

The days counted up to weeks, weeks become  months, and months became years. The two years, six months, and a handful of days became a living hell for the nations of Earth. Plans to be made, and resources need to be acquired. Shelters built. But time is counting down. The clock is ticking. Tick. Toc. Tick. Toc.

A special council was devised through the U.N. on how to shield humanity from the coming storm. Of the thousands of ideas brought from every corner of the world. “Project Ant Hill” was chosen.

“Project Ant Hill” is very quite simple, in each major country, there would be main bunkers underneath the capital cities. Tunnels would be dug to other cities for connection to smaller bunkers, storage caves, etc. The bunkers would be deep enough to block out the whips of radiation. 

With this task of the gargantuan scale, came the equally gargantuan hurdles that needed to be jumped. Conflicts need to be solved. Differences to be put aside. Right now. Trade needed to be established. Resource caps to even everything out underpopulation density. Wars needed to end.

The United Kingdom, still reeling from the economic impact of Brexit. Decides to swallow their pride and forgo their Euroscepticism. Re-joining the European Union for easier trade of goods, and for connecting their “Ant Hill” to the main European Ant Hill network.

The Russo-Ukrainian war fell into a standstill. No side gained ground, and no side lost it. Slowly, the war devolved into a game of who blinked first. And the Russians blinked first. With a mix of bleeding resources, losing young men, the sons of mother Russia, and the increasing cost of building bunkers. The country was on the verge of collapse, pressure from the incoming solar storm could be felt in the streets of Moscow. Feeling the wind change direction, the President of Russia conceded. The war became “No longer viable” he declared on state/national television. 

The puppet states of Donetsk PR and Luhansk PR, feeling betrayed, decided to keep fighting. But with both the support from Russia gone, and the determination of the Ukrainian government and peoples, they soon also conceded defeat and surrender. Of course, none of this came without a price, an oil price. With the involvement of South-Eastern Europe, and parts of Central Europe. Russia was to become their sole provider of Oil to the region. At least, until the eventual replacement comes around. 

In the Middle East, tensions rise with the stress of goods going to and throwing. Feeling the time was right, after calls from Palestinians within Gaza and the West Bank, protests then sprung around the borders of Israel. Calls for “Freedom” and “Justice” were shouted by men, women, and children. Yearning for a proper country to call home. 

Feeling the intense pressure, almost like an over-shaken soda can. It finally popped. No one knows who fired first. Some say it was an IDF border guard, others say it was Hamas fighters who joined in the protest as provocateurs. The reports are so conflicting that no one even knows who said what. The shooting started before the body hit the ground, and the fog of war only got worse from that point.

Not wanting for another war to erupt in the Middle East, the U.N. forms a coalition of nations, which include the United States, the United Kingdom, France, Germany, Italy, Turkey, Russia, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, India, and China, to figure out how to settle the matter between the two bitter rivals, once and for all. The reasons are very clear, to stop the fighting, save lives for generations to come, and with the resources critical to the survival of the world being located in this area of the world. 

As no one can afford a major conflict in the face of the incoming storm. The U.S., The U.K. and EU shocks the entire world by putting an uncharacteristic amount of pressure against Israel to accept the terms. Doing so by holding “Ant Hill” resources over their heads to comply. After much debate, the Israelis reluctantly accept the proposals from their principal allies. 

The conditions are as follows. 

1. A Two-State solution shall be implemented, with the Republic of Palestine to be formed in the bottom half of the current Israel, with Jerusalem located in the middle point of the border. Splitting the countries in two. 
2. All holy ground is to be neutral ground. Enforced by a U.N. force made up of non-conflict-of-interest troops. Meaning, there would be no soldier in Jerusalem whose religion is part of the Abrahamic group. Countries like India, China, South Korea, Japan, Thailand, and Vietnam has offered their respective armed forces to contribute for the mission 
3. The new “Republic of Palestine” is to hold new, fair, democratic elections for their new secular government. No militant groups involved in previous conflicts are allowed to participate in the new government, especially the ones with a history of extremism, including various Sunni, Shia, Zionist, and socialist groups. 
4. Israel is to pay a yearly sum of money for the next fifty years to rebuild the areas over the decades tattered by destruction in the new country. Including reparations for harm and misdeeds. Negotiations finished in September 2025. No maps have been updated yet.

The solar event is officially dubbed, “The Storm”.

October 18th, 2025, The day finally arrives.

All flights and shipping are locked down for The Storm. Every non-essential flights were grounded months in advance, these were the stragglers. The International Space Station is sent into orbit to be behind Earth before “The Storm” hits.

All essential Satellites are put into a similar orbit, and the non-essential ones are left to record their final moments, collecting as much data as their storage can hold and transfer to the surface. And if they survive, it will make the world's space agencies' lives better. The cameras are pointed in the direction of the sun, to catch the whips of radiation hitting the blue marble.

10:30 am, EST

Worldwide Air Raid sirens sound, and all civilians are notified to enter underground shelters. The world waits and prays for its survival. Tendrils of radioactive light begin to come from the sun, the sun begins to make sporadic sparks of light. The rays of light heading toward the Earth look like Kraken tentacles, reaching out for their prey.

11:45 am

The tendrils reach the moon's orbit, and the whips of light begin to move close together, aiming for its target. The theory was that these whips of radiation would cover the earth and eventually move past it, like all other solar storms. But they're too precise, too logical, too intelligent. 

Light whips begin to reach out on the North American continent. Violent worldwide earthquakes begin, and the whips break into the earth’s crust across the northern national lines of Canada and The United States. To the south, whips break into the lines between the United States and Mexico. The continental United States is surrounded by these red whips of light. Alaska and Hawaii are surrounded, and all territories of the US are surrounded.

11:59 am

The ground starts to crack, shaking, pulling in and out. Then stops, and the earth stands still. The field of tentacles surrounding the landmasses begins to pulse colors of Red, Green, Blue, Yellow, and Orange. All non-essential satellites capture this event. The rope is pulsing faster and faster, the sun pulses these colors. Separate tendrils form and reach for all satellites American-owned, wrapping around them.

Noon

Pulsing sounds emanating from the ground and begin to erupt. A loud pulsing hum grows louder and louder. “Thump Thump” “Thump Thump” getting faster and more rhythmic “Thump Thump Thump Thump” “Thump Thump Thump Thump” “Thump Thump Thump Thump”. The sound reaches into the bunkers, scaring the innocent civilians. Screams and cries emit from children, and mothers and fathers cower, covering their children.

12:01 pm

A final pulse from the sun shoots out towards its spread-out tendrils, making an electronic swoosh hitting the atmosphere. In the blink of an eye all objects covered in the field of lights simply disappeared. Just vanish like that. In their place, water, crystal-clear blue water where they once lay.

12:02 pm

On the calm waters of The Sunset Sea, sits a lonely fishing ship, called “The Bright Stone”. Her captain, Viktor Godwin, is a simple fisherman making just enough to make a little coin and to feed himself, his wife, and 5 children. His oldest, Elrik Godwin, was Viktor's first mate. He and his family live in a small cabin near Flint's Finger of Westeros in The North under House Stark. Originally, the family was from the Westerlands, near Lannisport.

The captain has decided to test some new fishing spots out west, deep in The Sunset Sea. A very dangerous move, no one ever catches fish out that way. But Viktor had a dream of a fresh catch enough to feed his family for the coming months, and plenty of coins to be made in the markets of Lannisport. He was determined.

The sea was calm, too calm, not a bite in hours. Elrik raises his concern, “Father, I told you this would be a bad idea. No one has caught fish out here before.”

Viktor annoyed, “Shut it, boy! I know what I’m doinn. The Smith came to me last night and told me to come here and fish. An that's what I’m gonna do!” Viktor yells angrily to his son. Trying not to show worry in his voice. 

“This could be bad, if we don't catch any fish, we won't eat tonight.” He thinks as he stares out into the blue water with a worried look on his face. He knows The Smith would never lie, right?

As the captain looks out, a bright light appears in a flash with a monstrous roar and thunderous clap. He shades his eyes from the brightening light, his bagger arm sleeve protecting the rest of his face. Elrik, in confusion, jumps down to hide from the light. Viktor shakily lowers his arm in fear, praying for no Leviathans, Krakens, , or any other sea creatures that could be lurking in this side of the ocean, to be coming for them. 

As he looks out westward in fear, he sees. Land? There's no land out here. Never been recorded, at the very least. Land mass this size should be hard to find. He squints and sees pillars. Pillars of glass? His son and other crew members of “The Bright Stone” look out Port-Side, and see land.

Dumbfounded, Elrik Says to his Captain “Father, What should we do?” looking up at his father he sees something he has never seen on his father's face. Fear. Pure fear, eyes wide, and his heart racing. He yells to his father “Father! Are you alright?” Viktor still not hearing his son stares at the landmass. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears getting louder and louder, eyes beginning to get dry.

Sweat dripping from his brow and getting in his eyes. Stinging but not paying attention. He keeps staring, “Why would The Smith give me a dream to come out here? A warning? A message from the other Seven?” He feels a hand on his shoulder. He jumps and screeches a horrible scream of pure fear.

It was his son Elrik, “Father” in a calm tone, “Are you alright?” he looked into his father's eyes.

Viktor still with a fearful look “Y-y-yes. M alright. Let's get the ship ready and get the seven hells out of here! I don't want to find out what that land mass is.” Panic ensues, shipmates pulling lines up, packing boxes and barrels getting the ship to sail for the mainland. Many tripping over one another.

Elrik Stops before entering his cabin to get some more rope. He looks up into the sky squinting, he sees a little dot in the sky moving. “A bird?” It moves fast across the open sky. He has a shaking feeling, whatever it is watching him. Shaking off the feeling, enters his cabin.

254 miles above the planet, the ISS sits in its strange new orbit. Solar radiation burns on its outer shell and sits 6 astronauts inside her safe interior. Her commander, Johnathan Daniels looks out at the surface of the planet. “Any news from Houston?” still looking at the alien planet. His eyes may be old to some, but they're still as sharp as they were 20 years ago. “This isn't Earth” he confidently says in his mind to keep the others from panicking.

Patricia Wilkins pulled herself over in zero gravity. “Still nothing yet, They all must still be in the bunkers underneath waiting for radiation to return to normal levels. Which by the computer's calculations should be a couple of minutes from now. 10–20 minutes.” she says, looking from her commander to the tablet in her hands.

Still looking through The Cupola, Johnathan sighed, placing his finger at the bridge of his nose “Will we still be in contact range with Houston?” his eyes pressed closed trying to stop the coming headache.

Patricia looking back at her tablet in surprise exclaims “Maybe, of all the essential and non-essential satellites, an estimate of around 1500 are still in various orbit levels. Mainly the essential ones survived The Storm.” she clicks another section on her tablet. “Of the ones we can contact though, is a different story. About 200 are fully online. But the good news is that the Medium Orbit refueling center is still online. Which we can use to get the other back as well.”

Johnathan looks over at her with a surprised look. “That many? The original estimate was that we would lose about 4000. But 1500? And how many are ours? Other nations must be there as well?”

Patricia looks back at her tablet. “So far, Just ours.”

Looking back down to the planet, Johnathan orders “Get in touch with the Russian Engineers on their side of the station. They must have some idea as to what is going on”.

“On it!” Patricia turns herself to move to the east side of the station. Pulling herself forward, passing scientific equipment, and computers with errors on screen. Her other crewmates are Daniel Santiago, Bruce Chang, Amanda Cruz, and Mia Thomas. We're working on the other computer for information from the other working satellites.

Patricia taps Daniel's shoulder, “Rookie, I need your help opening the Russian airlock door. It takes two because they're old.” This was Daniel's first time on the ISS, which made him the “Rookie” in space.

Looking up from his work, “Yes sir” he said respectably.

Patricia laughs “You don't need to do that here newbie. It'll only take a minute, but mind the smell that comes out. One of the Ivans snuck a bottle of vodka inboard the last flight up. So it's bound to smell like alcohol.” Daniel, at hearing this little fact, awkwardly smiles, pulling the handlebars in the direction of Patricia.

Making it to the airlock, splitting the station into sections, it has a worn Russian flag at the top. It’s been there since the beginning, seeing crews come and go. Patricia and Daniel grab the worn lever of the airlock and heave. Whizzing and mechanical noise of gears of the old door opening.

Patricia yells to the crew inside “Aleksei? Dimitri? Are you guys alright? Did you survive? We need help getting in touch with Houston.” Floating inside the section, no one’s there. “Hello? Anyone?” Patricia says confused.

Looking further inside, it's empty except for a floating bottle of unopened vodka. “Daniel, stay here and look around for anyone. I'll be back.” Patricia said in a panic, pulling herself back to The Cupola to her commander. “Commander! Commander! We have a situation with the Russians!” She yells grabbing a bar to stop her speed.

Johnathan, not saying a word, quickly pulls himself with full force to the other side of the station. Patricia follows, trying to keep up with him but he's moving too fast. Bruce, Amanda, and Mia noticing the commotion quickly follows their commander. Reaching the Russian it became instantly aware something was wrong.

Two Russian cosmonauts are supposed to be in this section of the station, and yet no one is here. Just a lonely bottle of Vodka floating in zero g. “What the hell? Where could they have gone? We would know if they left in the escape pod.” The commander says going further into the section of the station. One of the computer screens shows a video ready to play. Johnathan clicks play, the screen starts to play a video of the two Russians speaking Russian minutes before and right when The Storm hits.

“Солнце выглядит красиво. Лучи радиации похожи на танец Лебединого озера.” (“The sun looks beautiful. The rays of radiation look like a dance of Swan Lake.”) Aleksei says, looking out the window.

Dimitri performing final lockdown checks chimes in “Меня не волнует, как красиво это выглядит, закройся и отойди от окна, чтобы не выжечь глаза, идиот.” (“I don't care how beautiful it looks, lockdown and get away from the window so you don't burn out your eyes you idiot.)

With a smirk on his face, Aleksei is about to lock down the window when he notices the rays of light splitting up. With a worried look, he says “Ох, Дмитрий, вам стоит прийти и посмотреть это!” (“Uhh Dimitri, You should come and see this!”)

Dimitri pulls himself over, “Что это, черт возьми?” (“What in the hell is that?)

The Camera starts to shake violently, the station starts to creak and groan as multicolor light comes through the window. Aleksei trusts himself back in fear and yells, “Что это за херня!! Что происходит!!” (“What the fuck is that!! What is happening!!”)

Jonathan turns to his 5 other crew mates, horrified by the events that have just occurred. Not looking, he says “Patricia”.

She replies shakily, “Y-y-yes sir?”.

He locks eyes with her and calmly says, “I don’t care what you have to do, what rules or laws you have to break. You get us back in touch with Houston. NOW!.”

Chapter Text

The bunker was quiet, sirens on the computer screens still wailing with red radiation warnings in the Central Command Center of the bunker. Across the room, a heavy steel door sits. A bright yellow sign sits atop it saying “Authorized Personnel only. Solar Storm Protection Class One'' In the center of the one-ton door sits a metal wheel that can be opened outside if needed. 

Siren lights begin to flash on the wall, the wheel begins to turn rapidly. A sharp hissing noise and smoke come out of the door and swing open with a heavy creek. Opening wide enough for multiple people to enter at the same time, men in protective armor come out with weapons in their hands scanning the area. 50 men rush out with their SIG Sauer MPX in mat black, their lights scanning the room for intruders. One pulls out a slender device to scam the area for radiation, and the screen ticks from red, and yellow to green in all clear. 

With the device giving the all-clear, he pulls off his black gas mask to give himself a better view of the Central Command Center. “All clear? Status Report!” the Secret Service member yells to his team.

“Clear!” One yells in a hallway.

“All Clear!”

“Clear!” 

“All clear sir! No one in the mess hall or main entrance to the lower bunker.” another member of the Secret Service says, his voice muffled by the standard MCU-2/P gas mask. He waits for orders.

“Good, I want the Secret Service spread across the bunker just in case.” He turns towards the now-open doorway. Two guards are at the door.

“Seems to be all clear,” He says to them, looking to the one on the left. “Turn on the air circulation system, the air is stale in here.” the guard salutes and makes his way. Looking to the other guard “Guess the shaking we felt wasn't the main entrance being blown off.” 

“Then what the hell was it?” the guard asks his superior.

“I have no earthly idea, your guess is as good as mine.” turning his head to the main screen on the wall, it was blue and in white lettering saying “ERROR, PLEASE RECONNECT”

“Now is not the time for guessing games, I need to get the POTUS and chiefs of staff out of the inner bunker,” he says looking at the screen with a concerned look on his face.

Inside the inner bunker sits everything that keeps one of the most powerful nations on Earth running. The president, Vice-President, The Cabinet, and Joint chiefs of staff. As well as Unified Combatant Command. Sitting and waiting for the all-clear to leave this cramped confined room not built for this many people.

“Did the scientists at NASA mention anything about earthquakes?” Seth L Mckinney wonders no one in particular. At 40, he was the youngest U.S. president in history. 

“I do not believe so. At least that I know of. Do you remember how hard it was to get an estimate from them? They ran around like headless chickens the minute after the U.N. session!” Lilly D Jefferson exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood of the whole situation. That's one of the reasons why she was chosen as Vice President, she knew how to lighten the mood in trying times. 

“Ain't that the truth? Ha” Seth replies, going along with it.

The Intercom speaker above them all comes to life “Alright everyone the main entrance door to the bunker through The White House is still sealed. We are ready for you to open your side of the inner bunker. That is unless you all like sitting in there like a can of sardines.” The Secret Service member says to lighten the mode. A few of the generals chuckle 

Seth gets up and walks over to the microphone on the wall “Hilarious director. Now get us out of here. That's an order.”

“Yes sir!” The director says with a chuckle before turning the microphone off in the inner room. He pulls out a key. In the inner bunker, the President and Vice-President pull out the same key. Placing their keys into the lock, a timer on the wall counts down.

5,4,3,2. At the stroke of one, they turn their keys and the door slowly begins to unlock its extremely complicated locking mechanism. You could hear the gears turning. Clicks and clacks and a large THUMP sound from the titanium door. Taking 3 military generals to push the damn thing open. 

With the door finally open, everyone begins to rush out of the stuffy and cramped room. Many moan with stiff joints as they try to lose themselves from the squeezing room. Other doors of the same making open, civilians clamber out for fresh air. Mainly White House staff, scientists, and special communication operators for the Central Command of the bunker. 

After taking in fresh air not filled with the smell of men and women, “We need to get The Network online and see how our allies held up.” President Seth Orders his top advisor in a stern professional tone he had learned during his years in the Senate.

“The Network” was created to be impenetrable to any electromagnetic disturbances. Originally set up for N.A.T.O. allies to communicate with one another during a Nuclear event. But with the announcement of The Storm, The Network was opened up to all nations of the world. Taking thousands of man-hours to construct and program. With the revelation of how vital The Network is, the U.N. declared it to be a planet-wide requirement.

“Yes Mister President,” the advisor says quickly, turning with a sense of urgency.

The Central Command is a flurry of activity, with operators running all over the place getting to broken hardware. Many parts were fried because of The Storm. It looks as if sheep are being ordered around by a sheepdog, running and yelling orders.

Dread.

Dread was the feeling in the large room. You could see it on their faces. Many try to hide it in their work to get The Network running. It was in the air, thick as a morning fog. Many of the generals have seen combat for most of their lives. Sending men and women into the fiery pits of hell known as war. But this. This was a feeling that no time behind the stock of a rifle, killing foes who want to kill you could prepare you for. The Unknown. 

Of course, it’s not The Unknown that scares us. It’s what lies past The Unknown. 

“I’ve got the East Coast online over here!!” an operator to the front right side of the room yells.

“Put it on the big screen then!” Seth orders

The large screen covering the wall lights up with a map of the U.S.A. With the add-on of islands and territories. The East Coast lights up with indications of all major underground bunkers.

On the right of the screen, it says: 

East Coast cities Central Command -

• Portland, Maine (Online)
• Manchester, New Hampshire (Online)
• Boston, Massachusetts (Online)
• Providence, Rhode Island (Online)
• Bridgeport, Connecticut (Online)
• New York City, New York (Online)
• Newark, New Jersey (Online)
• Philadelphia, Pennsylvania (Online)
• Wilmington, Delaware (Online)
• Baltimore, Maryland (Online)
• Virginia Beach, Virginia (Online)
• Norfolk, Virginia (Online)
• Richmond, Virginia (Online)
• Charlotte, North Carolina (Online)
• Charleston, South Carolina (Online)
• Atlanta, Georgia (Online)
• Miami, Florida (Online)

It would have been nearly impossible to make a bunker large enough for an entire country’s population. So smaller ones were built at or near major cities, with the major city bunkers being the command posts of the states. Each bunker works like an Ant Colony, tunnels interconnect the Major cities to the other smaller bunkers in the state itself. 

Washington, D.C. is the main Central Command of the entire country.

“With the East Coast online we should be able to get in touch with at least Canada and Mexico’s Central Command” A tall, slender woman by the name of Ava Donaldhue, was the mastermind of “Project Ant Hill”.

“They should be getting their Networks online now, Try calling Canada,” Seth says Eagerly 

“There's no point in trying video, we just need to know their status and see if they took any damage.

Buzz

Buzz

Buzz

Buz-

Nothing.

“Call didn't go through sir” a command operator claims.

“Try Again”

Buzz

Buzz

Buz-

“Still nothing sir” The operator now has a concerned look.

“Did anyone try Mexico?!” Seth blurts out to the Command Center Operators.

Blank Faces

“I tried sir! But nothing got through, it’s as if they just. Vanished” An operator exclaims.

The room grows silent, the dread is worsening. To not start a panic Project Manager Ava tries to ease the tension “It's most likely just a malfunction, we’ll get it online. Now everyone. Back to work, that's an order!” 

The room comes to life again with activity. With their marching orders, they began to work on the problem at hand. 

“Miss Ava, A word for a moment please?” Seth whispers to the Project manager.

Towards the back of the room stands both Project Manager Ava and President Seth. Both try to keep the concerned looks off their faces, partially succeeding only to those not paying attention. 

“Cut the bullshit, Ava, why can’t we reach Canada and Mexico?”

“I saw your face. I know that face VERY well. What’s going on?” With a stern lowered voice Seth questions Ava. She hesitates to give her professional opinion. But looking at him, she could see the concern in his intense violet eyes. 

“We are hardwired to Canada and Mexico, the only way to lose connection would be to cut the cable” 

“And that cable is 150 ft deep to be sure it’s not affected by the radiation.”

“You would need a plasma torch to cut the damn cable, and getting to the cable before The Storm would be suicide!” Ava exclaims to Seth.

“What all did you test?” Questioning her. Ava’s face scrunches up in offense of her professionalism. She is the lead of this project, she should be praised for the idea that united the world in communication. 

In anger “Well. We shot at it in every caliber. Used everything imaginable, blades, fire, electrocution, we even threw it into a volcano to see what happens!” Her voice slowly gets louder.

 “For god sake, we even tried a nuk-” She stops. Realizing what she was just about to yell. The room became silent, all eyes on the two of them.

“Get back to work!” She orders

The room goes back to a flurry of activity. Turning her head to the president, “Forgive me sir I shouldn't have been yelling.”

“It’s fine, but what were you about to say? A nuke? What are you talking about? I never authorized such a test.” Questioning her. The anger slowly builds in the arrogance of using a nuclear weapon to test a stupid cable.

“We had to test every possibility, and couldn't leave it up to chance.”

“We tested it deep underground so no one would get hurt, the test went surprisingly well. Until the mountain came down and crushed that town.” She said calmly with no remorse for the 2000 townsfolk crushed in the mountain collapse. 

In shock “Christ Ava, that was you!?” Seth was now furious that she would have the program perform such a stupid test. 2000 people are now dead because of her. Just the irresponsibility of that action left him in shock, but there was no time for that now. Contact must be established with someone.

“We’ll chat about this later, and get in touch with someone.”

“Now!”

Time passes. Still waiting for word from the Command Centers of Canada or Mexico. All major cities' Command Centers are online and in contact with D.C. The surviving satellites are still operational but not able to get in contact with one yet, just the transponders showing they are still in orbit are. 

Ping

An operator nodding off at his desk straightens his head and rubs the sleep from his eyes. He was looking at his computer in confusion.

Ping

Another sound comes from the computer. Leaning in to read the monitor more clearly. 

Ping

It’s a message. The name I.D. reads “Hermes 15”. The message read as the following “Command. Do you read? This is Commander Johnathan Danials of the ISS. Please respond.”

“Holy shit!”

“Ava!” The once nodding-off operator yells for his project manager, scaring the room awake and aware. Turning around in his chair and waving both her and the president over to look at the impossible message.

The crew of the ISS was given two choices weeks before The Storm. One, come back down to Earth and be safe from harm. But at the cost of losing almost every satellite in orbit. The other, stay on the ISS, which had them at a twenty-one percent survivability rate. They would likely be weeks out of communication from home, they had orders if comms were lost to get every satellite in orbit operational to their best abilities. Every Astronaut and Cosmonaut agreed to stay aboard. 

Ping

Just as Ava and Seth reach the operator's desk another message comes through, “Is anyone alive down there, we have a major problem.” Ava swiped the keyboard from the operator in the blink of an eye, “This is D.C. Command Center, what is your status?” 

The seconds felt like hours waiting for a reply from the one hoping to connect with someone across Earth. If anyone was still alive to contact. 

Ping

“Me and the other 5 Astrounats are alive and well. Shocked. But alive. The 2 Russian Cosmernauts are MIA or KIA. We are not sure. They. Vanished. Sending video now.” 

A video file is attached to the message. 

“Play it on the screen,” Seth says gesturing to the screen on the wall. 

Looking up “Seth. I don't think that's a good idea. Maybe we should watch this somewh-” 

“I don’t care. We all should know what happened. So play the damn video.” Now ordering her. 

With a few clicks of the keyboard, the video plays. It’s not a pretty watch. First, they’re fine joking, then chaos. Screaming and crying for their mothers. The screen flashes with bright light. Then. Nothing. The 2 Cosmernauts vanished. The only thing left was a vodka bottle floating in the air. The video cuts back to The Network of the Nation. 

The Command Center was silent, like a tomb. No one knew what they just witnessed. 2 men just vanished before their very eyes. A few operators retch into the small trashcans to the sides of their desks. A General ran to the mess hall and hurled his stomach into a trash can. Was it god? Finally, punishing humanity for its sins? Or was it Aliens finally coming to attack? Who knows. But these thoughts ran through everyone's mind. 

Ping

A new message from the Commander “I have more bad news Command. It appears we are. Well, I don't know how to say this but I'll say it bluntly. We’re no longer on Earth. All the satellites still in orbit are scanning the planet and making a rough map. The entirety of North America is here, but no signs of Canada or Mexico. All their populated areas are now forested or empty. Greenland is not here with us. Hawaii appears to our estimates 50 miles off the coast of California. As well as smaller islands are dotted along the West and East coast. Words cannot describe what we are looking at up here. We will send the satellite images when they are finished”

“Is this a joke? Tommy your pranking us right? Ha Ha Ha” An operator says to another beginning to laugh panically. Others begin to speculate. 

“Another world? I call bullshit.”

“Maybe aliens? But why would they put the time and energy into moving a portion of a continent? With all that seems to be territories as well. Makes no sense!”

“Maybe this is god punishing us! Maybe this is Judgment Day.”

The Command Center uproars in conversation and speculation on the message from the ISS. The noise grew louder and louder with each second. 

“Alright!” Ava yells at the top of her lungs. “Enough with the speculation crap! We have a job to-!”  

Ping

Another message “The satellites finished their scan of the planet. We have put it together on a map. Sending you a file now. A few things we can say at the moment that are not included. The planet seems to be smaller than Earth, about 89% the size. But from what we can tell the gravity is relatively the same. Theirs multiple oceans, we don't know the names of course. Multiple high-density populated areas we think. The map scan is not perfect with the number of satellites we have in operation. There’s a large white structure north of the land mass we are next to. On another continent an area of land mass looks burnt, possible volcanic activity” 

Ping

A High-resolution image file, the name is almost poetic. “The New World” The file size is 150 TB, in normal times this would take hours to download. But desperate times call for desperate measures. 

As the map file is downloaded the speculations of this “world” float around the Command Center, “An alien world? I wonder what they’ll look like” “Maybe small and grey with big black eyes! Ha Ha” “No No. Maybe Lizards! Nissssse to Meetsssss youssss. Ha Ha” the operators joking with each other. It’s nice to see some semblance of joy in the Command Center. 

The map was. Detailed. To say the least. By zooming you can see the tips of mountains and you can see a goat shitting. There were intricate details of wooden ships in ports and ruined cities sunken into the Earth of this strange planet.

The full view of the mapped-out planet was the best part. The entirety of North America to the left in almost all her glory. But she was missing Greenland, her icy wasteland. 

To the east, lay two elongated continents with a mix of large islands. The first is elongated vertically with an icy top. 

The other is horizontal and monstrous in length, larger than Russia. Most definitely larger. The map is darted with islands big and small in the North and South sea of this one continent. 

What looks like a broken hand sits at the bottom, burnt and smokey. Hot red magma seeped out of the volcano. Pouring into the sea causing smoke and ash to rise in a cloud of black death. It was as if the land was pleading to the sea for mercy, reaching out its broken hand for the burning death to take it finally. 

All were studying the map in astonishment. The landmasses looked ancient. The mountains alone were proof. Cutting natural walls into the land. 

On looking with the others, Seth notices something odd. “Zoom in to the top of that continent!” Pointing at the closest continent, now zoomed out. 

As the operator zooms into the pointed section, a thin white line appears. Getting bigger and bigger. It wasn't a simple white line of snow. But a wall. Massive in size, the satellites calculate it to be about 700 ft high and 300 miles in length touching sea to sea. For a wall, it is massive. Let alone made out of ice, nothing natural about it.

Looking back at an operator “How's the surface level above us?”

Looking down at his monitor “The radiation levels are lower than safe levels. Everything should be back to normal” Looking back at the map, “Well. Relatively speaking.”

“In that case, send out the order for all bunkers to empty. We need all civilians to be calm, we can't have a panic.” Seth orders the Command Center lost in a train of thought, pacing back and forth. “It must appear as if nothing has changed for a couple of hours minimum, 5-6 at least, we need time to address the nation on what has happened.”

“We need to get up top now.” Looking to a chef of staff “Get the writers together for a speech to address the nation. I don't care how long it is, or how detailed it is, it must include any and everything we need to do to survive. Updates on the ISS crew, the Cosmonauts, everything.” 

Turning to the main generals, “The military needs to be on high alert, we don't know who or what's out there and I’m sure as shit do not want to find out with our pants down!” 

The generals salute and walk away. With marching orders in hand, the greatest mobilization in military history since World War 2 will be witnessed.

Turning to Lyla K. Summers, Commandant of the Coast Guard, “I want the entire coasts of our continent guarded, every ship, and plane, every helicopter. I don't care if it's rowboats strapped together all along the ocean. If so much as a fish pops its head up we must know about it.”

“T-minus 10 minutes to surface vault unlock. Repeat. T-minus 10 minutes to surface vault unlock” robotic voice from the wall-mounted speakers rings out with low sirens blaring

“Alright! You heard the man, get to your stations! I want everyone ready to go up in 5 minutes! And at the stairs 3 minutes before it opens! Move!” James G. Hutcherson Barking orders left and right to his men. The flurry of soldiers running around the bunker could make a man sick. 

“I need a few minutes to myself. I’ll be in the mess hall. Alone. Let me know when it's almost time.” Seth exclaims walking to the mess and closing the door behind him. Sitting down on a metal chair, Seth begins to, weep. Tears of fear, something he hasn't felt in a very long time. Not since the days leading up to his adoptive parent's death. Seeing that map, brought something back to him, he could feel it in his gut. Telling him to run as far as he can, and never look back. And at the same time, run head first, fists clenched to fight. 

“Be Brave, but don’t be stupid. We all burn. But, from the ashes, we rise. Higher than before.” Seth's mother told him on her deathbed hours before she passed. After his mother closed her eyes for the final time all that was left were 2 beds one occupied and one empty, folded sheets on top. Looking out the window it was grey, dark, and raining hard. 

“You know” Cough “It was just like this when we found you.” Looking up from his bed at Seth. Skin pale and withered with age. Needles and wiring all along his body. A multitude of hospital machines to his sides. “Just a baby boy in a handmade basket left behind in the back of our store. You were so small.” Looking at his skinny hands, then back to his son. “A gift from god, your mother called you. We tried. Before you came along. Did we ever tell you that?” 

Looking at the man who raised him. “Yes, twice I think. Dosen’t matter now. Does it?” tells his now weak father. Seeing him like this is possibly the worst thing Seth has ever been through. 

“No. It doesn’t. But don’t be sad for me. I’ve lived a good life, a great life. You and your mother are the best things to have ever happened to me. Do you understand son?”

“I do fath-”

Knock Knock  

“Mister President? Everything alright?” A soft feminine voice comes through the mess hall door. “We are at the 3-minute countdown to the surface door opening”

Wiping his tears away with a napkin, “Alright. I’ll be out in a second.” he says as he cleans himself up. Walking up to the door, inches away whispers to himself “Be Brave, but don’t be stupid. Be Brave, but don’t be stupid.”

Opening and walking through the door from the mess hall. The Command Center still has a flurry of activity with operators conversing with state Command Centers. Being escorted to the main elevator entrance to the now lower levels of the bunker. The room was full of Secret Service, White House Staff, and Military personnel. Noticing the President, they all move to the sides to let him join his Vice President, Who was talking with the Director of the Secret Service. 

“Still in a happy mood after all this?” nudging her a little to get her attention. Even after everything that’s happened in the past few hours she somehow can be in a good mood. 

“You kiddin? This is probably some of the most excitement I’ve had in a while. Imagine a new civilization to interact with! This type of thing doesn't happen often.” Lilly is grinning from ear to ear in excitement. 

“Aren’t you excited?” she asks Seth. 

“To be perfectly honest,” he says while scratching his chin. Trying to form the words. 

“I’m not quite sure how to feel. Doesn’t that map look kinda? Familiar?  Just something about it.” he can tell she's not too happy with his answer. She opens her mouth to respond to him when the speakers above them go off. Repeating twice.

“T-30 seconds remaining. Please stand clear of the platform. Thank You”

“T-30 seconds remaining. Please stand clear of the platform. Thank You”

The heavy elevator doors open with squeaks and groans of heavy metal, and the elevator shaft is bare with the only thing blocking people from falling in being metal cage fencing. The room begins to vibrate as the elevator comes down the shaft, brakes squeak as it slows into position. A final puff of air releases from the braking mechanism as the elevator settles into its boarding position. 

“Doors opening. Please stand clear of opening doors. Have a good day.”

The elevator door opens smoothly revealing the nice elevator interior.  

“Shall we?” Seth says walking into the spacious elevator. 10 others walk in with him, and there is still plenty of space for more people. No more enter so they aren’t cramped together. 

“See you all up top. We have a lot of work to do” Seth says giving a simple wave as a Whitehouse staffer pushes the elevator button.

The elevator doors closed with ease just as they opened. A simple Bing Bong plays when it finally closes. Everyone prepares for the assent when a final voice from the speaker comes on.

“Going Up. Enjoy the ride.”

Chapter Text

The Sunset Sea is vast. No man has ever seen all its waters, but dragons have. To man, it's seen as a watery desert with little to no islands, and no civilization. Nothing. That is unless you know where to look. 

A dragon can fly so high that hundreds upon hundreds of leagues can be seen from its naked eyes. If, of course, the legends are to be believed. It is written in old sailors' journals that there's an island owned by dragons of Old Valyria. Ancient ones, bigger than Balerion the Black Dread. Some accounts say there's only one dragon, others say three, many say hundreds.

Hundreds of sailors in the past have tried to venture to this dragon island and hundreds have perished, they are stopped by many things, storms, giant sea creatures, poor wind conditions, and madness from the never-ending ocean. Those lucky few, or unlucky depending on who you ask, that step foot on its black sand is never seen again. They are only legends on ancient documents. No one knows the official name of the island, there may not even be one. The name it has been given is told through stories, The Black Rock.

The Black Rock sits in The Sunset Sea, a vast, open ocean. The island has sandy beaches that are black as night. Farther out in the water surrounding the island lies a graveyard of sunken ships. Whalers, Longships, Galleys, Dromons, Great Cogs, and a handful of Carracks. The ones that made it to shore are burnt black with dragon fire. The black sand riddles with metal armor, swords, spears, and charred bones. The burnt black ones that were able to be beached are now home to the wildlife of the island. The island has one very distinct feature, a massive dormant volcano. 

Besides the massive black dormant volcano, the island of black rock is lush with vegetation, making it a type of green no ordinary painter can come up with. Many plants, trees, and animals from old Valeria call this island home. Of course, the main animals are the dragons. 

Wild berries and grapes that have been said to make very special wine that has been lost to time since the fall of Valeria call the black rock their home. Herbs for special potions and healing ointments were so valuable that men would sell all they owned just to get a few drops to save themselves. 

Such hidden treasure is worth more than kingdoms. So tempting for those who don’t know any better. Every few generations of new sailors think about venturing forth to this strange and mysterious island. And to those that do, only grow the graveyard of burnt ships and black bones surrounding the island.

Facing east, the volcano has a man-made extension of the beach. A mixture of black sand melded into the Valyrian stone brick pathway. The pathway is roughly sixty yards long from the sand to the volcano, and forty yards wide. Over the centuries, the pathway and area around it have become riddled with burnt ships and charred bones. Metal armor fused to the corpses, and swords melted to the stone, making them a permanent fixture. 

The pathway leads to a massive cave entrance made of Valyrian stone. Two black stone pillars sit on both sides, facing east. The pillars are decorated with a large silver dragon, a golden phoenix, and a midnight blue background. The centuries have tarnished the metal works, but the blue backgrounds still gleamed in the daylight sun. 

The tunnel leading into the volcano is much larger than the cave entrance it leads from as if it was designed for something much larger and was never completed. The walls are covered in scratch marks, pockmarked walls from ancient fighting. The outlines of bodies are too numerous to count, scorched and melted, now part of the walls. 

There is light at the end of this massive tunnel. High in the wall sit fireplace torches, they lay black and cold, waiting to be lit again. In Between every few torches sits a small pathway, no bigger than the average man. Many collapsed with bones sticking out from the rubble. Banners hang high on the wall, dusty and old. But still vibrant as the day they were hung. On them, a silver dragon entwined with a golden phoenix on a field of midnight blue. The farther the tunnel goes, the darker it gets, the light slowly getting brighter at the end.

The end of this tunnel opens up to a massive hall carved out of this dormant volcano. Black stone covers the walls from floor to ceiling, all the way up to the skyline of the volcano’s opening that lights the massive hall. Ornate decorations linger on the walls and floor of this massive chamber. Shelves with dozens upon dozens of books.  In the middle, sits a massive pool of steaming water, kept hot by the dormant underground magma. 

There are three massive openings in a triangle formation facing each other. One-hundred and fifty feet high and ninety feet wide. On the left, a large crimson Ruby Sits atop the opening. On the right, a large piece of quarts, milky white. The middle opening is different, larger than the other two, sits a blue sapphire, as big as a wagon wheel. 

 The earth feels as silent as a tomb, when it awakens. Roaring to life. Old tables began to creak and groan with every movement. Ancient books on bookshelves fall, hitting the floor with a thud . Candles fall from the walls. The shaking seems to go on for an eternity. Then, it stops. The hall fell silent as a tomb again. Not a sound. 

The cave to the left, with the Red Ruby, is home to a dragon. Collared in shiny crimson red, its scales look to be made of Rubies. This dragon is curled up, snoring softly. In a deep dream, not feeling the earth shake. Above it are loose rocks from years of wear and tear waiting to fall. The earth shaked just enough to set them loose. Breaking loose with a crack , the rocks fall in just the right way to hit the crimson dragon in the head. Hard. 

Its eyes shoot open, and without thinking, it quickly raises its head, hitting the wall with a hard thump . “Thousand Hells!” “What now! I just got comfortable!” it says, quickly searching its chambers for what woke it from its deep slumber to see it. “Oh fine, I’ll get up. You stupid rock.” It flicks the rock with its giant paw into the back corner with such speed it could tear a man in half. The rock stuck into the wall, now its new home. 

Slowly, but surely, the dragon begins to get up on all four of its legs and starts to stretch. With little Cracks and Creaks from its stiff joints. Slowly, it begins to walk out of its cave, stretching with each movement. “You would think I could get a decent 50 years of sleep, but no. I have to be woken up by some stupid rocks,” it muttered angrily.

The dragon, now out of its chamber, stands on its hind legs stretched high and mighty. Head stretched high in the air, arms reaching out for the emptiness from the room. Now fully elongated, its full length is double the height of the chamber opening. Its tail stretched out back into the cave, quivering as its muscles became nimble from its long sleep. 

The stiffest parts of it were its wings, from being curled up for so many years. The numbness irritates the beast, missing the wind flying in between its wings. With the rest of its body finally stretched out and nimble, slowly it moves its wings, in and out, little by little. With a sudden burst, the wings fly open with all its renewed strength. Years of dust and bits poof off, revealing a beautiful crimson color. The shine at first was almost blinding. 

Still tired, it raises a massive paw to its mouth to yawn, five black razor-sharp claws shine in the sunlight. After, it examines the great hall that has been its home for many, many years. Many books have fallen off their shelves, ancient scrolls rolled all over the place. Now annoyed seeing the mess, “The hall is a mess now, just what I need to start my morning”

Looking up at the skyline, it judges the time of day. “Well, afternoon, I suppose.” Feeling parched, it walks over to the steaming pool, the dragon leans down and takes a long drink of hot water. Feeling it wash down its neck to heat its center. Coming up to get some air, something feels off. Looking around the great hall, no one was with it. It was something in the air, “Yes”, it thought. Something it had not felt in a long time.

Walking around the pool, he stares up at the milky quartz stone, shining in the afternoon sun. Walking over to the front of the chamber entrance, it calls for someone or something. “Maegorion. Time to get up, sister. We have been asleep for too long. The earth shakes.” 

“Sister?”

Not hearing an answer, the dragon bangs on the wall to awaken the creature inside. It gets an answer, its tone of voice is much different from its own. A light feminine, sweet voice, made for a singer. “What do you want Vhaegorion?” Annoyed, “I want to sleep!” The voice exclaims softly but affirming. 

“I don’t care if you want to sleep. Something is off” 

A skeleton flies by the dragon’s head. Then another, hitting it in the face. “You may be a male, but I’m older and bigger. I can still kick your tail!” “Now fly off!” Hearing the anger rise in his sister’s voice, he backs up as quickly as he came to the cave.  

Leaving his sister to sleep, he walks over to the middle cave, the massive blue sapphire gleaming brightly. Looking up at the jewel, he slowly lifts his front arm to knock on the front wall to the entrance. A deep female voice comes from the cave. The age. The experience of combat can be heard with each word.

“What is it little brother, you know I don’t like to be woken. But it is too late for that now. So please explain yourself.” the voice shivers down the crimson dragon scales. They may be kin, but she still scares him.

“Something is amiss, sister. I feel it in the air. It feels familiar” Vhaegorion looks around the room, still empty. “Do you fee-”

“Yes. I do. Almost the same feeling since the day Valeria fell. But not of danger. It feels.”

There was a long pause before the mysterious voice from the dark depths of the cave spoke.

“Good” 

“Exactly!” The crimson dragon, with its energy of youth coming back to it, exclaims. “What would you have me do, Rhaelys? You lead us as the last great dragon of House Maeryn. We’re presumably the last dragons from Valyria.”

The seconds felt like hours to Vhaegorion, making him anxious, he wanted to search for this feeling, a feeling of home, a feeling of familiarity. But since he was the youngest, he couldn't just go out and look. He had a responsibility here first. Until he's given the go-ahead. 

“First, we need food.” the voice finally said, calming the young dragon. “It has been too long since the three of us last ate, search the ocean for food. As you do, scout the area for anything out of the ordinary. And come back if you do.”

He feels the eyes on him now, digging deep into his flesh. 

“Do you understand? No going forth on your own.” The order stabbed deep into him. But he understands the reasoning.

“Yes, sister,” he says as he gives the cave entrance a bow of his head. He turns and walks softly, but quickly, excitedly. Upon reaching the exit cave, Rhaelys calls him. “Vhaegorion. Be careful.”

She was just walking out of the cave, he hadn't heard her footsteps. Most likely some spell he wasn't taught yet. Lifting her head high, she was looking down at him from her cave. Her full body was still inside. She was standing fully up, her shoulders barely touching the edges. Her neck came out at an arch, her neck alone was 80 feet from torso to head, thick and scaly. Her head is as big or bigger than 2 carriages, it has a type of beauty to it. Natural. As a sapphire. Her scales looked like individual sapphires, each meticulously carved by a highly trained stone sculptor.  Her horns were kept neat and sharp, impressive for her age.  

Vhaegorion bows his head in acknowledgment.

He turns back to the exit, the hall entrance has two holes on both sides, making for a dragon to put its face in. He levels his head with the first hole and sticks part of his face in and sucks in a large amount of air. His mouth heats up, the fire awakening after many, many years. He roars, shooting fire into the first hole, bright red. He could hear the faint screeching of small animals inside the long hole give a final call, before being turned to ash. 

As his crimson-red fire rushed through the torch, fireplaces on the walls burst with light. After all these centuries, they glow bright, lighting the way out of the hall. He stops his onslaught of fire, pulls his face out, goes over to the hole, and breathes fire into it. With the exit hallway now lit up with the once-slumbering torches, he makes his way through. Feet-pushing dust-up with each step.

Vhaegorion takes a few final steps out of the cave, and what he sees is almost breathtaking. The ocean looks so much bluer since the last time he saw it. It feels like a lifetime ago he was standing here breathing fire on some invaders, he still has the scars on his right front foot from that pikemen getting the better of him. His ashes and melted armor are still in the stone. Looking to his left and right in front of the cave entrance to see any easy prey. Nothing. Taking a long look out into the ocean, scanning for ocean creatures popping their head up to the surface. Still nothing. 

“I guess I shall have to go up and out more for a better view,” he says to himself, confident in his abilities. He readies himself on the black stone pathway, he stretches and spreads his mighty wings. Going from a speedy walk, then gallop. Now into a full gallop, he jumps and flaps his wings, pushing all the sand and dirt off the stone.  

The wind. It feels fantastic, all the dust from his long slumber coming out from under his scales feels like nothing has ever felt before. As if he was a renewed dragon, given the gods' blessings. He gets the urge to go higher, putting all his might into his wings, and he flaps.  With each movement of his large wings, he feels the force of the air being pushed down. Gaining speed and altitude. 

Reaching the clouds, the air is fresh, it has almost a sweetness to it. A soft smell of the Jasmine flower. The smell reminds Vhaegorion of Valyria. So many things he missed from then. Home. The training grounds at Castle Ash. Flying over the port city of Draconys. All of it. 

        As he reminisces, still flapping his wings high in the sky, something in the water catches his eye. Looking down hard into the ocean. He spots the prey! Two whales, a sperm and a humpback whale, both around a hundred yards from each other. Orienting his large crimson body into a downward angle, he stops flapping his wings and begins to rapidly descend. Pulls his wings in for more speed. Gaining more speed, moving through the air faster and faster, as the wind moves between his scales the air vibrates making a whining sound, almost like a screeching an animal makes when attacked. The faster he goes, the louder the sound gets. 

He reaches the water, splashing headfirst into the blue water with grace. The two unsuspecting whales are deep. In a swift motion, Vhaegorion opens his wings and pushes himself through the water with such speed. Legs moving with each pull. He decides on the closest prey to catch, the sperm whale. The whale notices the crimson dragon and tries to flee for its life, but it's not fast enough. 

With his front legs outreaching, Vhaegorion digs the razor-sharp claws into the whale, grabbing and puncturing its flesh in its side. Stabbing its heart and killing it. Using his tail to balance his body with the now added weight of the sperm whale, he reorients himself facing the direction of the humpback. The humpback whale hears the final scream and pain of the sperm whale. It pushes itself into action to get as far as it can, away from this apex predator. But its large bulk does not let it get the high speeds it needs to escape its doom. Vhaegorion, wiping his hind legs, grabs the humpback, and with a squeeze, he twists and breaks its back. With a loud crunch , its bones now shattered, he takes a claw and punctures its heart, killing the whale. 

With his two prey in his front and back legs, he races for the surface. He gathers enough speed to be fully launched into the air to get enough clearance to flap his mighty wings. The ocean gets clearer and clearer with each movement. Breaking the ocean's surface, he takes a fresh breath of air and begins to flap his wings rapidly to get altitude. The dead whales bound in his paws with each flap of wings. 

Upon reaching an altitude of six hundred feet, prey still in hand, he begins to get his bearings in order. He has flown quite some time before getting his prey and swam much longer it seems. Judging by how far the sun has lowered, he has been out for hours hunting. Looking southwest towards home, then to the northeast. He sees something odd in the distance. The last time he was out this far from the island was some 60 years prior to get more food, and no land was out this far. 

But before his eyes was. Land. Yes, a great landmass going as far as he can see. Before, just what seemed like an endless ocean now has land. Vhaegorion strains his eyes to see even closer to this mass, he sees. Towers? Of glass? He remembers back to Valyria that there were towers, but they were made of stone. He utters an old High Valyrian spell, one in the tongue of the founders, “Magnify”. 

A subtle shimmering sound comes from the air, and a bright red circle with ancient High Valyrian symbols appears in front of his eyes, wherever he looks the image would be greatly zoomed in. What he sees shocks him. There are humans in these glass towers, actual humans. A site he hasn't seen since Valyria. 

Looking in awe, he notices more humans on the ground outside these giant glass towers. Some were in what looked like carriages, but no sign of horses. Quite strange. With this amazing scene, Vhaegorion almost dropped the whales he worked to find. 

“I must tell the others of this amazing sight,” he told himself, still looking closely at this strange landmass. Just as he’s about to turn around for home, something else catches his eye. What looks like a line of mist leading towards the landmass, farther northeast. It looks to be in the house colors. Silver and gold with blue in the middle.

“What could this mean?” Vhaegorion thinks to himself at the sight of this mist. One thing was for sure, this was much above his knowledge. 

“I must Tell Rhaelys and Maegorion! Quickly!”

The great hall was starting to look much cleaner and proper. Concentrating eyes on each book. Rhaelys utters a word in old High Valyrian.  “Lyft” “Place” The final book takes its place next to the many others. She looks around the hall, satisfied with her work, now pristine.

Not satisfied with the lighting in the hall, she says “Light” in old High Valyrian. One by one candles on the walls and tables light in a stream, like water washing on the beach. Satisfied with the lighting, she decides to get started on her journal. One that she has been writing each time they are woken up, whether it be for food, intruders, or the occasional bad weather. 

Walking over to the pool of steaming water sits a massive desk with a book not made for men. Breathing the steam of the pool makes her feel more comfortable. The book is massive, right next to it sits a specially made quill pen made of wood. Staring at the pen, she says “Lyft” in the ancient language. The pen begins to levitate, dipping its tip into the bowl of ink, and starts to write.

“Events of the presumed date, June first, four hundred years since the Fall of Valyria Freehold” 

As Rhaelys writes down the events of the afternoon. Maegorion finally comes out of her cave. Half asleep. Yawning. “Good afternoon sister. How does the writing go?” she says to her much older and bigger sibling. Without looking up at her, “Just getting started, you almost slept through the day, sleep well?”

“I’m sorry. Not all of us are morning dragons.”

Rhaelys gives a slight chuckle.

“So, What do you think the small earthquake was? The gods are finally ending the world?”

“No. It's something else” “Check the archives for anything, there must be something about it”

“Yes, Sister” Maegorion gives a slight bow of her head and walks over to the massive bookshelf. Her white scales looked freshly polished. 

Vhaegorion flaps his wings faster than he has ever before, making it back to the island in record time. Deciding instead of going through the main cave entrance he exited, he flies to the top of the dormant volcano, clouds blocking the hole at the top. Having to use his senses, he almost hits the side of the volcano. Startled, he drops both of his prey he worked too hard to find, leaving them to fall to the ground. He now has better balance and control without them. He notices the volcano top, gaining speed, he whooshes down into the hole towards the main hall. 

Noticing a loud sound of wind, both Maegorion and Rhaelys see their youngest brother gliding down with such speed, that they fear he might hit the side and fall. “Slow down, you fool!” Maegorion yells at him. Startled, Vhaegorion flaps his wings to slow himself as quickly as he can, just feet from the floor, he gently lands on all four of his paws.

“Have you lost your mind!” Maegorion questions, “You could have flattened yourse-”

“Silence Maegorion!” Rhaelys commands with her booming voice, echoing throughout the volcano. 

Looking down at her young brother, “Now, tell us what you clearly rushed here for.” 

Vhaegorion, panting “Land! Buildings of glass! Humans in them! Bigger than anything from the Valyrian freehold! Hundreds of them, maybe more!”

“Go on.” Rhaelys moves her head down to Vhaegorions level, now intrigued. 

Looking at both his sisters, “There was something else, like a stream, a misty line leading towards the landmass, farther northeast. It was in our house colors. Silver and gold with blue in the middle.”

House Maeryn was the first major house in Valyria to adopt the Westeros model of house colors and banners; others were going to as well. But then the Doom happened. The records of each house and the whole history of Valyria were lost to history, all that’s left of that history is here. 

Deep in thought, Rhaelys thought hard about what these events could mean. Then it hit her. She has seen misty colors like that centuries ago when the doom happened. An old memory, one she had pushed back in her mind. 

“It could mean he’s returned.” She says to her younger siblings. 

“Him?” “But you said he was dead! Along with his mother. The foreign one who took the heir and vanished. How could he still even be alive? They died centuries ago.” Maegorion argues, expelling this possibility. 

“You forget yourself!” Rhaelys snaps back at her.

“We are the dragons of House Maeryn! If there’s a chance of one of our human brethren being alive, we must take whatever lead we get. Especially if it’s the heir to our house.” 

“We must prepare and gather our strength. We will leave in 6 moons to see if it is our heir and if not. We burn whoever got our hopes up to ash!”

Maegorion and Vhaegorion begin to discuss all they will need to take with them. The journey may be long. Food, maps, books, etc. Rhaelys goes back to the journal to finish and add the new accounts for the day. She just wants to jump for joy at the prospect of the heir being alive. She looks up to calm herself.

Likewise, she looks at the upper wall, and on it sits two banners hanging. One on the right, House Maeryn, with its blue midnight field background, silver dragon, and gold phoenix intertwined. 

She looks to the banner on the left, the foreigners’ houses. The alliance was supposed to start anew for the countries. A kingdom and a freehold coming together to prosper. A memory comes back to her, the wedding ceremony between the soon-to-be lord of House Maeryn, Vaelarys Maeryn. And Princess Lucia. 

The banner was quite simple. A white field with a green hand in the middle. She studies the banner as she relives that night. The house's words come to her. She begins to say the words, almost like a prayer, hoping to guide the long-lost heir. “Spring Forth” And she believed King Garse VII Gardener was the king at the time, and his title was “King of the Reach. Lord of Highgarden. Defender of Marches. Protector of the Mander. Stalwart Hand of the South” 

Chapter Text

“For everyone's safety, bunker dispersal is extended for 6 hours. More tests are needed above ground for excess radiation.” A loudspeaker fills the bunker with its booming robotic voice

“Bullshit” 

October 19th, 2025, 8:00 am

A man and his family were the last ones to enter the safety of the Buffalo, New York bunker. They had planned on leaving much earlier, but when you have two young children nothing goes according to plan. Making the final turn into their suburban neighborhood one word passes through the two parents' minds “Finally”. As they drive into the driveway of their home, the father is careful to make the parking as soft and quiet as possible to not wake his kids. The car stops with a subtle squeak of the breaks, the mother looks back at the kids, still sound asleep.

They both look at each other and smile, getting out of the car each one unbuckles and picks up a child. Both are still sound asleep, all the excitement of the past 20 hours has worn them out. Walking up to their house, it looks like a stereotypical icon of middle-class living. Perfectly preserved and updated 19th-century home just off the border with Canada. Having everything parents of two could ask for. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a basement. 

Upon unlocking the front door, with his daughter still in his arms asleep. Open the door, the windows covered with blankets just in case they break because of The Storm. Thankfully so far nothing seems broken. Both Parents walk upstairs and put their children to bed. Walking downstairs not saying a word to not wake the sleeping kids. The father gestures over to start taking the blankets off the windows to let light in. 

The final touches of the living room are complete, both parents are satisfied that the room doesn't look like a Tasmanian Devil came in and tore up the place, they decide to go and make breakfast. 

“Still don’t understand why we had to stay in the shelter for so long, I don’t buy the “radiation” nonsense,” the father says as he grabs eggs from the fridge.

“Now John, they are the professionals. What they said goes. I mean, it’s better to be sure than sending people outside and getting radiation sickness or something.” “I mean, do you want Sally to grow another arm? She is Six and already a handful with two,” the mother points out, heating a pan on the gas stove. 

Handing her the eggs and bacon, “You’re probably right Susan, I still have imprints from George holding on to me when the actual Storm hit, he was shaking like a leaf.” John says, giving a little chuckle. 

“I saw that. Sally was surprisingly calm, I think I heard her whispering the “Wheels on the Bus” song to herself, I started to go along with her and it calmed my nerves surprisingly.” “Wanna turn the TV on and see what the news is saying? It’s a little past eight o’clock”

“Sure, didn't they say the news channels were the first to cover the aftermath?” He questions

“I believe so, yes. We might as well see what they have to say” Susan says. John kisses his wife on the cheek and goes to find the kitchen TV remote, which is in the junk drawer. Pointing it to the wall-mounted TV and pressing the power. Changing the channel to “Buffalo Channel 7 News” which was just starting

8:25 am

“Good Morning Buffalo!” The TV bursts out at almost full volume. John frantically turns it down so as to not wake up the kids. A man and woman anchor show up on the screen. “I’m Jim” “And I’m Jennifer and this is Channel 7 for Buffalo”

The camera pans over to the anchorman, he's wearing a black suit and tie combo. He has his iconic million-dollar smile showing his bright white teeth. “If you are seeing this now, that means that you were one of the first lucky few residents of Buffalo to get out of the shelter and beat the traffic, and I have to say ‘Congrats’.”

John, looking up at the TV screen sipping his coffee, was not too impressed with the remark “Jackass”

“Language” Susan gives him a gentle jab, “George and Sally will hear you”

“Sorry” 

The camera pans over to the Anchorwoman, clearly not too impressed with the remark but has to remain professional “Yes, our on-the-ground reporters will take it from here” The picture changes to a scene of a reporter on the side of a major road. “Can you hear us, Audry?”

There is a small delay before the reporter replies “I can hear you loud and clear Jennifer!” She has to speak up with the cars passing by slowly. “We are here on Humboldt Parkway right next to the Main Street bridge that crosses over Scajaquada Expressway!” “As you can see!” The camera pans to the main roads, it’s hectic. “There is bumper-to-bumper traffic going both ways, it is at a standstill! Reports of multiple accidents on the roads! Police are working very much overtime here Jennifer! No reports of any fatalities so far! We have been getting a few reports of loved ones not being able to get in contact with relatives who live just beyond the Canadian-American border, but we believe that it is very likely because of The Storm!” The camera pans up toward the sky, news choppers fly overhead. Like bees. 

“It looks like Richard was given the go-ahead to report live from the sky, and word from his end?” The screen switches back to the newsroom. “We are just about to switch over to him now. Thank you so much Audry” the anchorman says. “You too, we will be here to report on any further development!” The on-site reporter finishes before getting cut off and returns to the newsroom. 

There was a bit of a pause for a few seconds and the anchors talked amongst themselves, making a few dumb jokes that John Misses. He looks over to his wife. “I guess it was a good thing that we were the last ones to the shelter, last ones in and first ones out. We got to miss that shit show.” John says, jabbing a thumb at the TV.

“Yes, but It still took us, what? An hour to get home? At least the kids were asleep by the time we got home.” Susan says, cracking a few eggs. “How do you want your eggs?” “Sunnyside please,” John says, turning back to the TV just in time for the picture to change, sipping on coffee.

The anchorman finished his corny jokes and turned to the camera, “We now go to our eye in the sky. Richard, can you hear us at all?” The screen changed to a birds-eye view of the roads down below, the bottom header saying “Bumper to bumper for miles”

“I can hear you loud and clear Jim, as you can see the traffic just goes on for miles, heading away from the shelter” The camera pans along the roads “There seem to be multiple accidents moved to the sides of the major roads so traffic can keep moving, but it is not doing much.” The camera begins to pan a bit eastward. “As you can see it just stretches. I have never seen this many cars on the road before” 

Inside the helicopter, Richard looks west over towards the American-Canadian border for more to cover. “And towards the border, we should be seeing the same situa-...” he stops mid-sentence. The pause from the reporter is defining. Just the helicopter camera and the city view, panning as it hovers.

“Richard?” The anchorman says confused. 

“Everything alright up there?” “Richard?” The anchorwoman, now sounding concerned for her colleague. The silence lasts a little longer until Richards' voice comes back over. 

“James, turn the camera towards the border. Now!” the reporter yells to someone in the helicopter with him. The camera quickly pans over towards the Canadian-American border. 

“Hey Susan, come take a look at this,” John tells his wife, who just finished up the eggs. “What is it dear?” she asks as she turns off the stove and walks over to him. She starts to take in the TV images. 

The report starts to describe his view “Umm, sorry. I don’t know what I’m seeing up here. Normally where the old Fort Erie is now just forest. Yes, it’s just forest.”

“Richard, that does not make any sense.” The anchorman chimes in, the annoyance in his voice is very noticeable, clearly feeling like he’s being made a fool

“Fly us over James.” “I don’t care if it’s illegal! Just do it!” The camera starts to move over the border and into Canada. Except, nothing is there. All the buildings, roads, shops, and everything else are now just. Forest. The scene is just an endless forest as far as the camera can show.

John drops his cup of coffee, smashing it onto the ground. Upstairs, hearing the commotion and then the breaking of the coffee cup, John and Susan's two kids are awoken and slowly make their way down the stairs. Sleep still in their eyes, tired and drowsy. Feeling as if they could sleep until Christmas. Finally make their way to the kitchen entrance rubbing their eyes. “Mommy? Daddy? What’s going on? The older one says, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her little brother was right next to her, clutching a teddy bear. 

Susan quickly goes into mother mode “Don’t worry sweethearts. Everything is going to be fine. Come here.” George quickly runs over to her being picked up. Susan gestures for Sally to go to her father, still watching the TV. He picks her up and comforts her. 

More information comes out of the TV. “We have more reports coming in from other stations now, please bear with us folks.” The anchorwoman says just as she's being handed papers. “We are now getting multiple reports of the same scene from other Canadian and American border states. With what looks like just an endless forest.”

John, needing to see with his own eyes, “Sally, I need you to stay here with mommy and your brother, Ok? I need you to be a big girl.” “I will be right back, I need to see if grandma and grandpa are alright”  Sally looking up to her father nods in understanding. 

Looking over at her husband, “Be careful dear.”

“I will Susan” John says, giving her and George a kiss on the cheek. 

During the 2016 Presidential year, John's parents decided to retire north in Canada to escape it all. They moved right next to Peace Bridge to be close enough to visit every other weekend. During the preparations for The Storm, John and his dad set up telescoping shacks. Including a light signal to do Morse code to each other in case communications go out for a while.

John makes his way from the kitchen to the backyard of their home. The wooden telescoping shake was lifted to have a better viewpoint on the Canadian side of the border. Wooden stairs make their way into the main structure. A red wooden door was found in a junkyard and used for the entrance, Sally was the one who picked it out. John opens the door and steps inside.

The room was nothing special, the walls were bare wood with wire sockets on three of the 4 sides. On the wall facing the border, a massive window was installed to use the equipment. A large LED spotting lamp was added with a function to use More Code. A large telescope and an Amature Radio set were also on the desk as well in case of emergencies. It was his father's one that he bought during the Cold War. 

John peers through the telescope to see if the news report is true. They were right. Forest. A wall of thick green forest is the only thing he sees. Not a house, a shop, a school, or even a damned road to be seen. His parents' house should be right in front of his eyes, but it wasn't. Just fucking trees. 

In a last-ditch effort of hope, he tries to signal his father. Who at this time should have been in his shack right now. “-.. .- -.. --..-- / .- .-. . / -.-- --- ..- / - .... . .-. . ..--..” [Dad, Are you there?] Nothing. He tries it again, more slowly. Still nothing. They're gone, he thinks. Head in his hands trying his best not to cry, but the tears slowly start to fall from his eyes. One. Then two. Then three. 

“John! You better come see this!” Susan yells for him inside the house. He wipes away his tears, not for him but for his family's sake. He must be strong for them. He runs out of the shack, down the stairs, and into the house. Susan and the kids are no longer in the kitchen/dining room. Hearing the living room TV on that is where he goes. Susan, Sally, and baby George were all sitting in front of the TV. Susan had Sally in her lap, and George was right next to them playing with his teddy bear not having a care in the world. 

He comes over to them and picks up George still playing with his bear. Placing him on his lap while Sally is on her mother's. On the couch, they watch the breaking news on the TV. 

“MSNBC BREAKING NEWS” 8:55 am

“Good Morning America, My name is Andrea Mitchell.” “I am reporting Live from outside the White House, as President Seth Mckinney is about to address the nation.” Underneath the reporter, multiple headlines pass by. “No word of affiliate stations in the following countries: Canada, Mexico, United Kingdom, France, Germany, Spain, South Korea, Japan, Australia” the list goes on. The Audio cuts back to the reporter. “The address to the Nation will be going over every Television network, every radio station.”

9:00 am

She pushes on her ear to listen to something, “We are now changing to the President of the United States”

Mexican-American Border, New Mexico 8:00 am 

The Chihuahuan Desert, New Mexico is a barren mostly uninhabitable wasteland with the only life being a handful of creatures, including daring humans. The daring among them, normal people would call them “Crazy” for wanting to live in such a hospitable environment. These few not believing in words of authority, upon hearing about The Storm, and Bunkers decided to take it upon themselves to build their very own away from civilization. 

The desert seems vast and endless, a perfect spot for a handmade bunker. One such bunker sits just a few miles from the border. An old outhouse sits there, worn from the dry sun and freezing nights. An old farmer’s Ford truck accompanies it, hastily parked. 

The silence of the desert is suddenly filled with sounds of hydraulics and gears. A metal panel covered in sand lifts, shaklee. The crude hydraulic system struggling to lift it. Revealing stairs leading into the earth. With thumps of feet, an old man with long white bears and a shotgun comes out, slowly. Pointing the gun in every direction.

“HA!” he says in triumph “I knew the damneded government was liein about that stoopid Storm”

The old man takes off his hat revealing what is left of white hair, whipping sweat. “Martha! Get yer ass up here and take a lookie!” His wife, a skinny old woman comes stomping up after him “Alright, so you were right all along, can we go home now!”

“Don’t worry my love” he gives her a toothy smile “I have one more thing I want to see before that” “Get in Bessy!”

His wife, visibly angry with him “Fine, but I still think we should have gone into the shelters with everyone else” “Those earth shakes still making me shake a few” 

Not hearing his wife's remarks, he goes over to his truck and starts it. Giving it a few honks to make his wife move. “Am coming, am coming” she says walking over to the truck and getting in” They begin to drive off-road, southwest for a long while. Marth, now confused as to why they haven't gone back home. “Where are we going again?”

Her husband “I want to see how the border wall held up”

Now visibly angry with her bonehead husband “Are you kidding me? Good Lord! You couldn’t do this later?”

“I want to see how it held up is all. Is that so hard?” Giving her a toothy smile. Still angry with her husband, and in the end nothing she could do. He was driving. A short while later the old couple make it to the border wall. It was a sight to behold. In surprise, he slammed on the brakes, stepping out onto the hot sand in astonishment. “My god.”

Where was once a tall wall of steel, was now a steaming bent-over mess of metal. Red hot. So hot you could see the heat shimmer off the metal beams, distorting the view on the other side. Cautiously, the old man walks over for a closer look. 

“Be careful, please Ernest!” His wife yells at him from the truck. Still looking at the heap of metal, he waves a hand in understanding. Getting closer to the coolest and widest part, he hops over to the other side of the Wall. It's still desert, except for a hot purple glowing ditch in the earth. He estimated it to be 2 feet wide, but he was unable to tell how far it went down because of the smoke. It seemed to go on for miles, East to West, slowly curving. 

Ernest jumps back over the wall, almost losing his footing, and rushes his wife to get back in the truck. He starts the truck, kicking sand and first in the air as he speeds off to the nearest town. 

“What is it? Ernest? What did you see?” Martha questioned him. 

Ernest, Still paying attention to the road, describes the purple ditch in the sand, stretching for what seemed like miles and miles. “Good god,” she says to him. Facing back front, without a second thought she turned on and adjusted the radio to the nearest news station. 

“Ladies and gentlemen who are now toning in, we are about to go live at the White House in Washington, D.C. Where the President is about to address the nation over the recent news coming in. To recap, All over border states, the same thing is being said, to the Canadian-American border it seems that the country of Canada is gone. And reports are coming in from the southern border states on the Mexican-American border with the same kind of news, The Country of Mexico is gone” There was some whispering coming through the speakers, “We are now going to broadcast the President's address to the Nation”

Washington, D.C. 8:20 am, 40 minutes to National Address

The military has been called to keep D.C. under control and in order. The Capital was in complete chaos as more and more reports came in from news stations around the country. Senators running to and from offices and chambers trying to get a handle on things. Over the last few years, the political landscape of the United States has changed drastically. 

Both the House and Senate are Democratic Majority, ever since the fracturing and splitting of the Republican Party in Early 2022 has allowed the Democratic Party to have major wins in the Midterm Elections. And path the road to the landslide win in the 2024 US Election.

From the fracturing and splitting of the Republican Party, the Bull-Moose Party was formed with the framework of the Original party that Theodore Roosevelt formed in 1912 and incorporated a more Progressive-Conservative approach. The notable reasoning for this split is that former President Donald Trump was imprisoned for his involvement in the riots of January 6th, being charged with treason and disqualified from running. Was given 25+ years in federal prison with no parole. This was many republican congresspersons' final straw, and they decided to leave the party and for the Bull-Moose Party. 

After these shocking events, the Republican Party is now a shell of its former self. Having its reputation tarnished, it is now fully controlled by a handful of Far-right extreme senators. Who only have a small amount of power and a handful of states in their political control. 

Each party leader is in conversation with their respective house and senate leaders. Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer and House Majority Leader Hakeem Jeffries, both convening in Schumer's office, finish going over how to keep Congress from going into a deadlock. The desk phone rings. 

Looking at the number on the phone, the Senate leader instantly recognizes the number and answers the phone. “Hello? Chuck Schumer speaking” The person on the other side has a feminine voice. “This is the White House, Please Hold for the President”. This was a subtle click then a wait, looking up at the House leader he puts the phone on speaker for him to join the conversation.

This is another click and a male voice comes through the phone speaker, “Chuck? It’s Seth. I wanted to call you personally. How’s it over there?”

“Well, Mister President. It’s chaos here at the moment, everyone is still trying to figure out what the hell happened. Jefferies is here with me now, you are on speaker sir.”

“Oh fantastic, I was planning on calling you next Hakeem. I’ll cut to the chase, I need both of you here at the White House in 30 minutes, I already have the Vice-President rounding up both the House and Senate Minority leaders of the GOP and Bull-Moose as we speak, we need to have a meeting to deal with the crisis”

The congressman, happy that the ball was moving in some direction “We were just discussing the same thing, sir, we-” Before he could finish speaking there was a knock on the office door. He tells the person on the other side to come. It's the Vice-President. Schumer standing to greet her “Madam Vice-President” Jeffries does the same.

Vice-President Lilly “I presume you know why I’m here?”

The president chimes in from the desk phone speaker “I was just telling them now Lilly, I presume you have the other four leaders?”

Both House and Senate Leaders looked behind the Vice-President, the four party leaders were standing in a little group. To the left was Mitt Romney, Senate Minority leader, and Liz Cheney, House Minority leader of the Bull-Moose Party. And to the right was Ted Cruz, Senate Minority leader, and Marjorie Taylor Greene, House Minority leader of the GOP. “Yes sir, they are outside waiting now.”

“Fantastic! I will see you all here soon!” 

Click  

The White House 8:25 am, 35 minutes to National Address

The subtle click of the plastic phone was the only sound in the Oval Office, just Seth, the desk, and other furniture. Taking a deep breath and rubbing his eyes, Seth pushes back from the Resolute Desk to stand and stretch. He’s still getting used to his new leather chair, a reproduction of the one JFK used. He just got it a few weeks before The Storm. 

He slides his fingers over the desk, walking over to the window only to see the Secret Service patrolling the perimeter. Some military vehicles are parked for extra security. At least it is a sunny morning. Knock Knock

Looking over to the door “Come in”

The door opens, and his aide, John Malkovoy comes in. “Sir, the camera crew is ready to set everything up.”

“Alright send them in. Also, is the speech done?”

“Yes sir, I have it with me,” John says walking in holding papers that could only be said speech. John ushers the camera crew in to start setting up for the broadcast. Moving the big furniture to make room for the equipment, they have to push it to the side, stacking the smaller pieces as there is no time to take it out of the office. 

Walking over to his aid, “So? How does it look?” questioning him.

“It looks great sir, encouraging, hopeful, informative, and straight to the point.”

“Good Good. And everyone else? How are they holding up?”

“Everyone's doing alright, Jen cried in her office for a few, but she picked herself back up and got to work.” Remembering something “Also The House and Senate Majority and Minority leaders are on their way with the Vice-President, I just got the word right before they left.”

“That's good to hear John.” Seth put his hand in front of him “The speech?”

John, taking a second for his brain to catch up “Oh Yes Sir, forgive me.” he hands him the speech.

“It’s fine,” Seth says thinking. He’s a good kid, a little slow, but still good. Seth thinks as he looks over the speech. “Give me some time to memorize it. Also have the members of Congress meet in the Cabinet Room, as well as the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the rest of the cabinet, set up a TV in there so they can watch the speech as well. Once I am done I will join them there. I'll leave everything else to you. I will be in the President's Room, come get me 15 minutes beforehand.”

“Yes Sir”

“John, Thank You,” He says to John, the aide nods his head and turns around to perform his duties. Seth walks by the camera crew setting things up, speech in hand. He opens a door to the president's room. Originally used as a separate dining room, when coming into the office, Seth wanted a place to sit and relax for a few minutes. To ease his nerves. The room was housed in a few soft comfortable chairs, a big dark chenille green sofa up against the wall, and a large oak coffee table in the middle of 2 couches. Side tables on each side of said couches and sofa. 

Seth walks over and sits in one of the big brown soft reading chairs in the corner, which has a lamp on it and a phone in case he needs anything. Sitting down and turning on the light, he starts to read the speech, muttering the words to himself. Hours before he mentioned he wanted to write some fast-action executive order to get ahead of the chaos that will most likely plague the Nation for some time. Many will not like what he has to do. Few of the orders will be mentioned in the speech. 

Time passes, and Seth has read the speech front to back multiple times. Before he started to read it again there was a knock on the door. 

Looking up from the speech to the door “Come”

The door opens and John walks in “We are 15 minutes from going live Sir”

“Good, could you get Victoria to come here, please? I need to ask her something about this speech. I want her opinion on something”

“Yes Sir, Right away” John turns around to go and get the Speechwriter. A few minutes go by when there's another knock on the door. “Come in”

The door opens and Victoria walks in, she's wearing black dress pants, a white button-up, and a navy blue blazer with black flats. She seems a little confused. “You wanted to see me, Sir?”

“Yes please, have a seat. Just wanted to talk about the speech for a minute before we go on the air”. He gestures to one of the chairs. She takes the offer. “It’s good, I just wanted to ask about the ending bit here” He points showing her, reading it off, “Thank you, and let us move forward together with courage and resolve” 

Looking from the point of the speech and back to him, “What’s wrong with it?”

Seth needs to explain a bit more. “I think it doesn't get the message through as to how serious the situation is. I believe to get the severity across it would be a good idea to have it end in a way I don’t normally end my speeches. Do you understand?”

“I think so Sir, I mean I thought about putting “God bless you and may god bless the United States of America,” But then I remembered throughout the campaign you stated that you were not a religious man. That's why I didn't add it in.”

“Yes I remember, but I think it would be a good idea to add something along the lines of that in, to show the seriousness of the situation we are in. To get it across” He gestured with his hands with a bounding crossing motion, like crossing a line. 

Victoria takes a moment to ponder what he means, “I see what you mean. Want me to write it in?” He hands her the paper, she takes a pen crosses the old final sentence out, and replaces it with a new sentence. “There. How does that look?” She hands the speech back to him, he rereads the final bit with the added change. 

“Looks good Victoria” looking up from the speech.

“Is there anything else Sir?” She asks as she gets up from the chair. 

Looking up at her “No, thank you.” She gives a little nod and makes her way out the door. Looking down at his watch, 5 minutes to the address. Quickly looking over the speech once more with the changes, he makes his way back to the Oval Office. 

Upon opening the door, the once-active room fell silent when he walked in. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything?” There was a little chuckle from a few of the people. Seth makes his way to the Resolute Desk and makes himself comfortable. Speech now in front of him. John walks over to him “Sir, the Congress members are in the Cabinet Room.”

“Thank You, John. I presume the TV is in there as well?” looking over to the aid. 

“Yes Sir”

“Good”

The aid walks away as the camera crew is done setting up.

The man behind the camera, “Alright everyone we are on the air in.” He gestures with his fingers. He gestures with his fingers “5, 4, 3, 2” And mouths One, and a light goes on the Camera.

Millions of Americans sit in front of the TV, their phones, Radios, or any other device that can play the speech from the President. Waiting in anticipation for what he has to say. 

“My fellow Americans, Today October 19th, 2025 was supposed to be a celebration. Not just an American celebration, but a worldwide celebration. Of our species surviving an extinction-level event. One that would have changed the fabric of our society and the course of our future. Sadly as many of you know, that does not seem to be the case. 

As to what I am speaking of for those who still do not understand. On our borders with our northern and southern neighbors, something extraordinary has happened. On our northern border, which once was homed to Canada, the cities, towns, roads, and parks. There are now mountains, forests, grasslands, arctic tundras, and many more. Our southern border is showing the same thing. Mexico, where the same kind of cities and towns, now sit deserts, rainforests, mountains, and barren coastlines untouched by humanity. 

Moreover, with extensive time and research from our satellites overhead, this government believes one thing, we are no longer on Earth. Looking extensively at photos taken by said satellites has shown that the areas of Central America, and the Caribbean have also been affected. The island state of Hawaii and the Territory of Puerto Rico are still with us.

Hawaii has been moved to less than 50 miles off the coast of California. And as we speak we are in contact with the Governor of Puerto Rico and Hawaii to get them anything they need. Our overseas territories have now been moved to various areas along both the Pacific coast and the Atlantic coast, and we are now trying our very best to get in contact with them via satellite. To the reason why we and these landmasses have been brought to this strange world. We do not know, and we may not know for a time.

I promised you when I took the office of the presidency to be as full, transparent, and truthful; Let me be absolutely clear: as of right now, we are cut off from home. But that does not mean we are alone here, later this evening we will be releasing orbital photographs and basic maps on the official government website. To the east of us sits 2 continents, for now, we will be designating them the following: Alpha will be the closest continent and Bravo will be the farthest away from North America. These names will stay until we know the official names of the 2 continents from those who call them home.

In response to this unprecedented situation, the Vice-President, the Secretary of Defence, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and I have decided to raise our national defense posture from DEFCON 3 to DEFCON 2. Effective immediately, all military leave is canceled, and all service members of the United States Armed Forces are ordered to report to their nearest base for further instructions.

To address this crisis, I will be signing several executive orders, including the following:

1. All landmasses that were once the nations of Canada, Mexico, Central America, and the Caribbean are now under U.S. protection. These areas shall be designated as U.S. territories until further notice.
2. Expeditions into these territories will begin promptly to locate critical resources.
3. The Stafford Act will be put in place, and FEMA and the Red Cross will be put into full effect.
4. All non-essential government services will be temporarily suspended.

Later today I will be discussing with the Heads of both the House and Senate Parties how to apply for these orders precisely. 

I strongly advise businesses to adopt a work-from-home policy, this will work under the Defense Production Act until we can acquire the resources lost from imports. Furthermore, the federal and state governments will convene with the Department of Labor, and the Department of Transportation on how to maneuver this great obstacle ahead of us. 

If you are a business that cannot do a work-from-home policy, we ask you to please get in contact with the DOT, or do vehicle sharing between employees. 

In preparation for The Storm doing far greater damage, each major city bunker has a minimum of 6 months' worth of supplies. State governments are here advised to ration those supplies out for a time until they can be replaced. With this in mind, all non-essential manufacturing is hereby suspended under the Defense Production Act. As well as the Stafford and National Emergencies Act to coordinate in repurposing industries to manufacture essential goods for the time being. More information will be released on the official government website.

My fellow citizens, I know many of you are feeling a mix of confusion, fear, and perhaps even loss in light of these events. We are in uncharted territory, but we are not without strength, and we are not without each other. We have faced extraordinary challenges before, and together we have always found a way forward.

To every American, I ask you to remain steadfast. Trust in your leaders, look out for one another, and remember that, as always, we are stronger together. This is a time of great uncertainty, but I have faith in our unity, resilience, and shared strength. Together, we will face this new world with courage and resolve.

Thank you, and may God bless you, and may God bless the United States of America."

(Authors Notes: Hi everyone! Just wanted to say that I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was originally going to be different but I went overboard with my outline and I made like 2-3 chapters worth instead of 1. So I am splitting it up. Hope you enjoyed it!)

Chapter Text

The Cabinet Room, 9:20 am

The Cabinet Room was quiet. The President’s speech had finished a few moments ago. The room was full to the brim with members of Congress, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the rest of the cabinet. Extra chairs were brought in, but there was not enough room, so people had to stand. The TV was set to MSNBC, and videos from all over the US were being shown. The damage and destruction were on full display.

The door opened and the President walked in. Everyone in the room stands out of respect. Seth takes a moment to scan the room to ensure everyone is here to start the meeting. “Hello everyone, please sit down everyone, let's cut to the chase” After greeting the men and women, they all sit back down. “We are in a dire situation people, please change the screen” Seth orders an aide to switch the TV to a different channel to begin.

“General, I think it would be best for you to begin,” Seth says, gesturing to a General named Charlie A. Jefferson. “You may begin when you're ready”

The general gives a little nod and stands next to the TV. “Thank You, sir. Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like you all to take a look at these photos. Before I show them I want to make it clear that at this moment, these are Classified. The Photos shown to the public will be very different from the ones shown here. Lights please.” another aide turns off the lights and hits a button for the window blackout shutters to close. The sudden darkness takes people's eyes a minute to adjust.

“First I want to discuss protecting our maritime borders, including the addition of Canada, Mexico, Central America, and so on. It has grown significantly. For this, I suggest creating one massive border that goes 30 miles from shore and loops around like an oval.” He changed the screen to a photo of the new maritime border and an outline appears of the suggestion.

“Now to be able to achieve such a feat in protecting this border, both the Coast Guard and Navy will need much more additional resources. Such as ships, personnel, supplies, fuel, intel, and more. The problem is in preparation for The Storm, most of our Naval assets were docked or moved closer in together to protect them. Mainly the ones that are difficult to replace.” He pauses for a short second so people can understand.

The General changes the picture again “As we speak more and more video evidence shows something came down from the sun and struck the Earth in lines, very specific and precise lines. All ships on said lines are now heavily damaged or sunk. And the ones near it to heat damage.” He changed the image on the screen to several photos and videos of ships severely damaged or now sunk. Some snapped in two, glowing a hot purple color. One of the ships now in two was an aircraft carrier, “Thankfully the only sunk Aircraft Carrier in our fleet was this one here” The picture changes to a closer picture. “The USS Carl Vinson”. The carrier is completely in two. “This carrier is beyond repair and will be used for spare parts.”

The members in the room chatter amongst themselves over the news of the ships. The General waited patiently before continuing to speak. “Now, the good news is that the ships we need to patrol our new border are still afloat, the problem is that it is going to take time to repair them. Especially depending on the damage done.”

“Now on to the two landmasses the President discussed in his speech” The picture changes to a detailed map of the new planet.

Seth gives a subtle cough to chime in, “General, I would like to take it here for a second if that's alright.”

“Yes Sir, Mister President” The General takes his seat.

“Now I want all of you to look at this map. Does it look familiar to anyone?” Seth asks the men and Women in the room. He lets that question hang in the air, some confused at this map, some studying it.

If you have been practically living under a rock for the last 10 or so years, or just haven't watched any major TV show then you wouldn’t understand. But Seth knows that some of them must know what he's referring to. The room remains silent as the occupants study the map.

He inconspicuously looks at each one of their faces, then he sees it. On the House Minority Leader of the Bull-Moose Party's face. Liz Cheney. He watches as she quickly connects the dots in her head. She looks at him, then back to the screen, back at him “Mister President, is that what I think that is?” She asks. Everyone in the room looks at her, then him.

Seth gives a little chuckle “Glad to know I’m not the only one seeing it, I thought I was going a little crazy. Anyone else want to take a crack at it?” Everyone stays silent, some shake their heads. “Alright, General next slide please.”

The picture changes to a map. But this one is much more detailed, with wording and landmarks. The two continents are named “Westeros” and “Essos”. And at the bottom “The world of “A Song of Ice and Fire” and “Game Of Thrones " in an old writing font. Now everyone is understanding what this world is, everyone connecting the dots, and many “Oohhhhh” coming from a few.

“Now do all of you see it?” Seth asks, looking around the room.

The general continues his presentation, “The images are almost identical, some bits and pieces of detail are off. But other than that, the same.”

“So what does this mean? Are we stuck here?” Ted Cruz, Senate Minority Leader asked in confusion.

Looking over to the senate leader, “At the moment. We do not know. But the good news is that we know where we are. Planetos, from Game Of Thrones.” The General answered the leader's question, as well hoping to calm people's nerves.

Just hearing it aloud is quite a shock to most, just the idea of a fictional story being a reality is amazing in itself. The Congress leaders begin to discuss the steps to get ahead of the panic that will most likely start when news gets out. The idea of a new government budget gets thrown around. Increasing military spending, where the money will come from, increasing taxes, which federal programs need more money and ones that need to be put on hold. What about the foreign trade that will no longer be coming in, what about those resources?

Religion was another thing that was brought up. What do you do with the highly religious people in the country? How do you keep them calm and not go insane? No Pope, no Mecca, no Jerusalem. Important places for these major religions are all gone. All these foundations were just uprooted overnight.

The Cabinet Room gets louder and louder as people try to speak over one another, ideas left and right. “Lower Taxes” “Raise Taxes” and “Military control” The words “Martial Law” were thrown around a few times. Just everyone getting louder.

“Everyone, please! We must go through this rationally. We will get through this” Seth, now standing trying to calm everyone down.

“How do you expect the public to react? You already told them they were no longer on Earth! Now how do you think they're going to react when they find out that we are on a goddamn fantasy planet. This is insane!” Miss Greene spurts out in her crazy tone that she usually saves for the media. “I guess the stress is getting to her now.” Seth thinks, looking at the congresswoman.

“For now, Congresswoman.” Giving her a look before scanning the room. “We tell the public one thing, the truth. We can’t have speculation and fear take over.”

The news breaks, 3:20 pm, 6 hours later

Americans all over the country are still trying to get over the President's speech. Places of worship from the big cities to small towns are being flocked to. Looking for comfort in the fact their lives have been forever changed. Speculation and conspiracies are rampant as very little information besides the speech is released. Like a slowly dripping faucet.

The news media at the moment is documenting the damage and destruction from The Storm. Social Media is still up and running as young citizens try to find comfort in cyberspace. Each documents their experience, feelings, and next course of action in a search for some form of normalcy.

NASA has been given the go-ahead to give updates on the ISS and its Crew. The country sighs relief in knowing that the astronauts are safe and sound. Along with this, the info as to what happened to the Russian cosmonauts is also released, along with the video.

[Now Retconned: (More and more reports of people vanishing out of thin air during The Storm make big news. Footage from bunker sites all over the country is shown to the public of men, women, and children turning into light and vanishing before people's eyes. Just like the Cosmonauts. The videos are practically identical. Before The Storm everyone is calm and prepared, then The Storm hits followed by shaking then the light, and they vanish.

CNN: “The US government at this time has no comment as to why these people simply vanished. But they say that they are looking into it.”)]

MSNBC: “The official government website now says for everyone to have at least enough food and water for you and your family. Instructions have been posted on how to extend them in case of emergency.”

Fox News: “Now the government is saying we need to be on a “Work from Home” schedule to save gas and diesel. I mean come on! The damage to the economy alone is going to be chaos. What we should be doing is mandating more people to work, more people in factories producing everything we need. Not being a bunch of wimps and hiding at home. I bet this would have never happened if the Republicans never lost the election.”

ABC News: “We are getting numerous reports of power outages across the country. Law enforcement in some areas stated that whole power grids for isolated areas are completely fried. Seattle, Washington State is reported to almost be completely out of power as lines are down, neighboring states of Oregon and Idaho have said that they will send in supplies and trucks to help with the damages as they are not too badly damaged. We will have more shortly”

CBS News: “So far the following states have opened up their bunkers 6-month supplies to the public at rationing: Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Maine, Utah, Kansas, Alabama, South Carolina, and Arizona. More are expected to follow. The Department of Transportation has been ordered to organize a nationwide “Bus Shuttle” system for businesses to save gas from civilian cars.

As news outlets are relaying what is happening around the country, more information about this strange planet is released.

“Welcome back, My name is Wolf Blitzer with CNN and we have Breaking News. The US Government has just released its information of this world we have been, frankly transported to.” The Anchor turns to a TV screen next to him, it goes from the CNN logo to a map. “And as you can see here, almost the entirety of North America is here with us, just as the President said in his speech earlier this morning. And here.” The Anchor zooms out more for the full image, “This is the complete map we have now. And as you can. See. here.” He stops speaking and studies the map.

“Uh. Uh hmm. Sorry folks, I think someone gave us the wrong ma-” Before he finishes, he presses on the earpiece and listens. “It’s what?” “Are you sure?” “This isn’t a joke right?” “Oh.” The anchor turns back to the camera, bewilderment on his face. “Well uh, folks. This is, I guess, exactly what it looks like. If you have watched the hit show “Game of Thrones” then you will recognize this land mass here.” He circles and points to the closest landmass, “My producer is saying this isn't a joke, but this is Westeros. Yes, that one.” Looking over to the side of someone away from the camera. “Are you sure this is what the government released?”

More and more information is released. The information seems fake at first like someone screwed up and gave the wrong file to someone. Or an office prank? But no, this is legit. The media goes into a frenzy with this information, the theories become wilder and wilder. Social Media is having an absolute field day as well, LARPing is trending on Twitter. So many questions that don’t have answers are being asked on every corner of the internet. But one common question is being asked: “Where is George R. R. Martin?”

Reports on Social Media in New Jersey of helicopters flying overhead, like a swarm of bees in search of flowers. The speculation has been narrowed down to one thing. They're going to get George R.R. Martin.

4:45 pm, Rural New Jersey, Home of GRRM

Rural New Jersey, far from major cities and the hustle and bustle of civilization. Home to big, cheap plots of land. One such plot is homed to the famed writer George R.R. Martin, bought before The Storm. At least that's what the file says.

Sitting in the Blackhawk helicopter, a soldier turns the final page of the personnel file and hands it back to the front. A group of 5 helicopters, four of which are Blackhawks. The first one is a civilian model. They have orders to bring the writer to D.C. by any means necessary. No contact with the writer has been established, the phones ringing but no one's answering. He was last seen with his wife arriving at his home, a 25-acre plot of land from the closest bunker.

“3 Minutes from landing! Look alive!” The pilot reports to the soldiers.

Looking out the window, they approach a massive home. Looking like a 4-5 room size maybe more. The helicopter flies around it twice to get a lay of the land. The civilian helicopter lands 25 yards from the door, then the first Blackhawk helicopter 15 yards from the civilian.

“Alright, everyone!” A military captain yells to get everyone's attention on the headsets. “We go in, get the writer and his wife then we get the hell out. Got it?”

“Yes Sir!” The other soldiers reply. The sliding door to the helicopter opens and they exit. 10 yards from the front door, an officer and two military MPs stand waiting for the soldiers. The officer gives them a nod of approval and makes his way to the door, the squad of soldiers staying a few paces behind.

Ding Dong. The officer presses the doorbell. Nothing. He presses it again. Still nothing.

The officer reaches his hand to the door and knocks, the door creaks open. The hinges, with years of wear and tear, make a scraping noise. Something out of a horror movie. Poking his head in to take a look around. Nothing. Then a small gust of air hits him. It's cold.

“Captain, split your group into two and search the building.” The officer speaks on the radio. Looking back, he watches as the 10 soldiers and their captain make their way to him and through the door.

The first group makes their way up the stairs to the second floor. Searching and going from room to room. Each is either a guest room or a storage room, which is odd for a house this size. The last room is the master bedroom. The door was cracked open, and a smell was coming from it. Foul smelling. A soldier, weapon in hand, pushes the door open with the muzzle of the rifle. What he finds is not a pretty sight.

Mister Martin's wife, Parris McBride, dead. She was slumped on her back in a pool of blood. Her throat was cut to the bone.

Two other soldiers enter, still in defense, and search the room. No one was in it. Searching the room for some kind of entry, footprints, a weapon, something to give evidence of an attacker. But there was nothing.

“Captain, we have a body up here. It's the writer's wife. She's dead. Throat cut.” The soldier who found her reports on the radio.

The radio comes to life, “Shit. Alright stay there, I will be up there in a minute. The second team is about to make it to the study.”

Before continuing his task, the captain looks around the living room. It's a mess, trash thrown about. Torn up magazines, and destroyed dishes. Just a mess. Looking over to the other group, he hands signals to make their way to the study.

They entire a short hallway, and the end had a sign on the door “Study room” hanging by a nail. The captain readies his weapon, “Open it.”

Another soldier, on the right side of the door, slowly turns the handle to open it. The Captain kicks the door open and sweeps the area for any hostels, A soldier enters right after him doing the same. What they find is worse than they could imagine.

Blood. Blood covering the floor, splatters on the walls, almost everything. There's a body, sprawled on the floor. Its lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling glossed over. The Captain walks over and neels a little to examine the corps. On the right side of its chest is a hole. About the size of a silver dollar. Looks down in dismay. “Shit” He takes his hand and closes the eyes of the now-deceased body of their target of extraction. George R.R. Martin. Looking around the room for any signs of a struggle.

The room was ransacked, shelves destroyed, notebooks ripped to pieces, many more clearly missing. The computer that was once on the desk smashed to pieces, unsalvageable. “Command. Come in.” The captain presses down on his radio. He waits for a response.

“Go ahead, captain.” A feminine voice replies, authoritative.

“We are inside the occupancy. We have two bodies, one upstairs and the other in the study, both deceased for some time. No signs of entry. The study is ransacked and destroyed. No sign of forced entry. Not even signs of footprints.” The Captain informs.

“Alright Captain, stay there. Don’t touch anything, we have people on their way to handle and examine the scene”

“Yes ma’am.” Giving one more look around the study.

“God fucking damn it”

MSNBC: “We have Breaking News. The famed author, TV writer, and producer George R.R. Martin and his wife, Parris McBride were found dead this afternoon in their New Jersey home at 4:50 pm Eastern time. At this time local and government authorities have not given a cause of death. The government has said they wanted his help to determine their next course of action on “Planetos”. Mister Martin was 77 years old.”

4 days later. October 23rd, 2025 9:00 A.M. EST “Announcement of contact mission”

Upon the report of the death of George R.R. Martin, the US government decided to go ahead with a “First Contact Mission” to the continent named “Westeros”. The details of this Mission so far have been kept from the public as to not add more fuel to the fire. Efforts to help throughout the country have been going ahead of schedule so far. Local and state governments have been coordinating to get people the food and supplies they need.

General Motors, Sellantis, and the Ford Motor Company have been ordered to halt production on new vehicles for the time being and put efforts into parts and equipment the country needs. As well as oil production machinery. This includes the former foreign manufacturers that have major offices in the country such as American Honda Motor, Toyota USA, and Hyundai USA, etc.

So far the search of known Oil deposits in the former Canada and Mexico have been proven successful. But since the original infrastructure is gone, the timeline to get those Oil Refineries up and running has not been determined yet. ExxonMobil, Chevron, and ConocoPhillips have reported that the reservoirs in the two former countries are there, but they need time to find out how much is there. And without the existing infrastructure to be able to extract, the timeframe is uncertain.

The Whitehouse has been a very busy place for the last few days. Even More so since the contact mission announcement. The discussion is to take place in the Oval Office, at the moment chiefs of staff, Cabinet members, and military leaders are waiting for the president to join them. Many start to brainstorm how to move forward.

“If the satellite map is correct, why not just go straight to Kings Landing with a contact fleet?” A woman questions.

“No No. We do not want to give too much away. If we go straight to the capital and say “Hi! We are not from this planet and just stumbled upon this place, also our home is on the other side of the continent.” it will look suspicious” The Secretary of State, Peter Lynch says to her. The bags under his eyes say he hasn't slept well in a few days.

“Good point. So we just play dumb the entire time? What if we’re not at the right time? I mean as to the books. We could be hundreds of years before the originals, or hundreds of years in the future.” The Secretary of Commerce, Abigail Cross, has been trying to attain as much knowledge as she can about this fantasy world. With one of the books by her bedside every night.

Sipping on his cup of black coffee, “Well we won’t know until we meet them first now will we.”

The door to the Oval Office opens, letting the president walk in. Coffee in hand, with a dog at his side. The dog, a blue and white Stafford Bull Terrier, three to four years old named “Eco” usually goes everywhere with his owner. Except for the past few days, hiding under the bed and shivering from The Storm. Now happy and bringing smiles to everyone in the room.

“Sorry everyone, had to make a phone call to a nervous relative,” the President says, making his way to the Resolute Desk. He gestures for Eco to lay on his dog bed at the side of the desk.

“Let me guess. Your cousin in Maine?” a staff member asks, giving a little wave to Eco.

“You are correct. She texted me concerned and I just wanted to reassure her " he takes a sip of his coffee before continuing "Shall we get down to business? What do we have so far?”

The members in the room set up the few proposals they have in front of him, some boards with maps and numbers on them. Once they were finished, Admiral James Huber stepped forward to start explaining the first proposal.

“Well sir, the first option is a simple one. We have a small convoy of ships leave Norfolk, cruise down to Lannisport, make contact with whoever is in charge, and start to set up diplomatic talks. Simple trade, to start a relationship. And maybe figure out a way to set up a FOB for a research team. On this satellite image here.” The Admiral points on the board.

Pointing to another location, “We believe this is the heart of the area. Casterly Rock. From the satellite image, it looks as though the entire castle is built into the mountain. And with the estimated it being Twenty-one hundred feet high. Almost as tall as the “Merdeka 118” in Malaysia, Standing at 2,227 feet. With this in mind, it would be best to make sure the convoy reaches the outskirts of Lannisport just as the sun begins to rise. They will most likely have guards watching the sea for ships coming in. We want them to have ample time to report to the High Lord. If they don’t see us first up at Casterly Rock.”

Seth, sipping his coffee and taking this option into account. It's straightforward, simple, and easy to explain. The low point of failure on our part. And if it goes well, start a friendship with the most powerful area of the continent. But, just in case he still wants to hear out the other two options.

Another General takes the lead “The other two choices are the same, but in different areas. Option one is straightforward, the convoy goes down and around what we presume to be “The Summer Sea” and up through “The Step Stones” into “The Narrow Sea” then heads straight for King’s Landing through “Blackwater Bay”. Very straightforward, but with some problems. One. The convoy will be out in the open for everyone to see. Rumors will spread along the continent, starting from what we presume to be Dorne up.”

“Most Likely the areas we travel the lords will get nervous and launch their ships to investigate, and it could get ugly. Two, if let's say nothing like that happens the other problem is just showing up at their capital unannounced and saying we know nothing about their land, and the fact that North America is on the other side and we just show up out of the blue is going to raise concern. Might scare the high lords into thinking we are here to invade, or they might just lock us out. We can’t take that chance.”

He continues with the last board, “Now option two, we go up north to a secluded, unpopulated or low population area. Meet with the locals, set up a Forward Operating Base, gather intel about the area, and go from there. The problem with this option is that you could technically call it an invasion. Which is something we want to avoid being accused of.”

Thinking about the information given, Seth realizes something. Taking another sip of his coffee, “They want to go with option one, makes sense. Important port city. Large enough for boats, well at least one by our standards. An Important family occupies the area. The map has 3 roads leaving Lannisport, so commerce will move “quickly” by Westeros standards. More importantly, they are crucial to the books. Get on their good side so we might be able to steer things, and if we don't like where it is going. We simply “topple the lion’s throne”.”

Putting his coffee down on his desk, Eco gets up and makes a little whimper to him. Looking up with some puppy eyes. Smiling, Seth opens and reaches into a drawer and pulls out a large dog treat. Eco sits and waits. Seth gives him the treat and pats his head, Eco walks back to the bed and lays down, munching on the treat.

Looking back at the men and women in the room. “I like the first option, going to Lannisport is the best course of action. Straight forward, no bullshit. But there's one thing I am concerned about. The High Lord of this area will most likely be a Lannister. The problem is which one.”

“We will be able to handle anything that happens,” the Admiral says, Highly confident. Unsurprisingly, this expedition will probably summon the Admiral into the history books.

Changing the subject to the voyage itself, “How long would it take them to get down there?”

Opening up a manila folder, “About 2 days, maybe less depending on the weather”

Taking another sip of his coffee, “What ships would make up the small convoy?”

The Admiral looks up from the folder. “Well sir, we were thinking about having 5-7 ships in total, I have a list here of the ships we think are best.” The Admiral goes to the coffee table, picks up another stack of files, and hands them out to everyone in the room. “This is the list and information of the naval vessels in mind.”

Seth flips open the thick file and reads off each ship aloud. “The USS Abraham Lincoln, Aircraft Carrier. The USS Makin Island, Amphibious Assault Ship. The USS San Antonio, Amphibious Transport Dock. The USS Savannah, Friget. The USS Arleigh Burke, Destroyer. The USS Virginia, Submarine.”

Looking through the names one last time then looking at the admiral. “Um. Don’t you think this is a bit much? I mean, this is basically a Carrier Strike Group.”

Understanding the President's concerns, “Well Sir, since this is a Medieval Fantasy world. And reading up on the book series. The possibility of Krakens, Leviathans, and course Dragons. It would be better to be over-prepared than under.” the Admiral, hoping that answers the President's question.

Closing the file on his desk, “Alright, you make a good point. In that case, I want a vessel from Project Analog added as well.”

“Sir?” The General to the side looks from the Admiral, then to the President.

“Is there a problem?” Asking both the General and Admiral.

“No Sir, there's no problem. Just, why?” The Admiral questions as politely as possible.

“I figured if we spend all that money on those old ships we might as well use one. Which ones have been fully refitted?”

The Secretary of State chimes in, “I have that file here Sir”. Grabbing said file and making his way to the Desk. Opening the file to read off the list, “Of the 43 Navy Vessels originally selected in November 2023, the ones that were completed just before The Storm are; USS Texas, USS Wisconsin, USS Missouri, USS Lexington, USS Gettysburg, USS Oak Hill, and the USS Whidbey Island”

Seth ponders the options and takes another sip of his coffee. “Let’s go with the USS Missouri, if I remember correctly she was the first one completed right?”

“Yes sir, she is in the Norfolk Naval Shipyard as we speak.”

“Good, I want her to be part of that convoy.” Now that is done, Seths looks over to the Secretary of State “What about the ambassador to meet them? Any suggestions Peter?”

Peter, giving a little chuckle “Actually Sir, I know just who. I highly suggest Kelly O’Conner. With her work with the peace between Russia and Ukraine, I think she would be perfect. Plus she loves the books”

“That’s good to hear. Call her up and give her the offer” the President says standing up. Seth raises his voice a little for everyone to listen to what he has to say. “The First Contact Convoy leaves Friday, next week on Halloween.”

2 Hours later, 11:30 A.M

Ring, Ring

Other line: Hello?

Peter Lynch: Kelly O’Conner? It’s Peter. Peter Lynch

Kelly: Oh Hey Peter! How are you? Busy?

Peter: Yes, it’s been very busy here at the moment. Look, I was wondering if I could ask you something. Got a minute? It’s business.

Kelly: Uh. Yeah sure, hold on. (Hey Honey! Could you watch Sammy for a moment!)

Male background voice: (Sure! Who is it?)

Kelly whispering: (It is Peter Lynch, the Secretary of State)

Male voice: (I thought they were not gonna call you again? I thought Ukraine was your last one?)

Kelly: (Shhhh. I know. I know. It will only be a second)

There's a moment of silence before she comes back to the phone.

Kelly: What can I do for you, Peter?

Peter: I presume you’ve watched the news?

Kelly: Of course.

Peter: So you can imagine that we will need an Ambassador.

Kelly: Ok. And?

Peter: Well. We would like the Ambassador to be you. The President is up for it. I already brought it up with him earlier.

Kelly: …

Peter: …

Peter: Well? What do you think? Think you’re up for it?

Kelly: What do I think? You want me to go to a fantasy continent and open up talks and a relationship with said continent. Meet the people there. And possibly break every worldview of said people with just our mere presence. And for what? Trade? Information? An alliance? Land? Food? Gold? Oil?

Peter: Pretty much. Yeah.

Kelly: …

Kelly: Give me a sec. Let me call you right back.

The audio of the phone being hung up comes through. Leaving Peter in his office alone to sit in silence

An hour goes by before the phone rings again. 12:30 pm

Peter: Hello?

Kelly: Peter? I have an answer. I just need one thing from you. Can you promise me that I will get home safely? I won't leave my girls to live without their mother.

Peter: You will be guarded by the bes-

Kelly: I need you to promise.

Peter: We will move heaven and earth to bring you home safely. If anything bad seems to happen, we will get you home. I promise.

Kelly: Alright. Send me the details. Bye.

Peter: We will. Bye.

Click

Chapter Text

“Exploration is the essence of the human spirit. It is what we do, what we must do, to feel truly alive.”

-Frank Borman

October 31st, 2025.  Norfolk, Virginia.  1000 Hours “10 AM”

MSNBC Onsite Reporter: “Good Morning America! We are live here in Norfolk, Virginia with the sendoff celebration of the 7 ship contact convoy. A “Halloween Departure” if you will. And as you can see spanning the camera, there are almost a thousand people here saying goodbye to friends and family as they prepare to sail to new waters. In a few short moments, the President of the United States will come onto the stage, give a short speech, and wish the crews good luck. We can see the stage from where we are now. It is set up in front of the USS Savannah, she was just repainted. Oh, it looks like the President is making his way to the podium. We will switch to a different camera now.” 

Seth exits a tented area looking over notes, presumably his speech. The crowd of spectators cheered for him. Upon reaching the stairs, he takes a final look over it and hands it to John, his aide. 

Taking the notes, “Are you ready, Sir?” John questions. Seth is looking at the podium, then back to him.

“Of course I am. I just have to give another, most important speech of my presidency and in the history of the country. No big deal!” Smiling at the aide before he heads up the stage stairs. Unbeknownst to them, a photographer pays close attention to their interaction and takes a picture. 

Taking his place at the podium, Seth looks out at the crowd of people. Some with kids in their arms holding little American flags. Turning back and up at the USS Savannah, he sees her crew members giving waves to the onlookers. 

Seth begins, “Good Morning, Everyone! I am so glad you all were able to make it today for this special occasion. This ship and the 6 others are sailing into unknown waters. Not as warships, but as explorers into the unknown.”

“The Men and Women of the United States Navy are Heroes today. Turning the page in the history book of our great nation. They will strive forward in the face of the unknown. Not backing down. Going head first. And we are here to show them that we, as a country, give them our full support in this endeavor. And we say to you, the Men and Women. Good Luck!” Seth turns to the sailors and gives them a salute. They do the same. The crowd gets louder in cheers. Soon screaming “USA USA USA USA USA!” in excitement.

Over the ship's speaker, “Stand clear. Casting off. Repeat. Stand clear. Casting off.” The sailors originally overlooking the crowd rush to their duties. Dock crews release the mooring lines securing the ship to be reeled in. Crews running to and trowel. 

Seth, still waving at the ship, the crowd remembers something. “John!” looking to his aide, “The bottle! Toss me the bottle!” getting his attention.

John rushes to the tented area and returns with something a dark caramel color. “Here Sir!” The aide says, tossing the bottle to the President. Looking down at the bottle gives a little smile. Seth makes his way close to the edge of the stage and gives a loud, high-pitched whistle.

A young sailor, probably 20–21 notices the sound. Looking over the side and sees the president gesturing to him. “Hey, you! Catch!” Taking a second to understand his words, he notices the bottle and reacts. 

The President takes the bottle and throws it to the sailor, like a football. Using all his strength, it gets high enough for the sailor to just barely catch it. 

The crowd cheers for joy. Photographers capture every moment. From before getting the bottle, to throwing, then catching. History in the making. 

The sailor, surprised by the fact he caught something the president threw at him, looks down at what he just caught. Another sailor walks over to him, “So? What did he throw to you?” Looking at him, then back at the bottle. There's a note. “Give to the Captain. Good Luck! - Pres. Mckinney” and the box bottle had gold ornate lettering “Johnny Walker. Blue Label. Blended Scotch Whiskey.”

The sailor looked to the other, “Gift for the captain. Got to give it to him.” The ship rocks as it starts to move under its power. Honk! Honk! As a final farewell, the USS Savannah's horns sound. Making his way through the ship and up to the deck, the sailor greets the XO and Captain Richard Webb. Handing the Captain the bottle, salutes and walks back to his duties. 

Capt. Webb, looking down at the bottle, gives a little chuckle. XO looking in confusion, “Well? What is it?”

“It’s a gift from the President. He does have taste.” the captain hands her the bottle. 

The XO reading the label, gives a small whistle in impressment. “I’ll say.” Handing the bottle back to the captain. “Orders Sir?” 

Putting the bottle under his arm, “Take us out, due South, South-East. 50 miles from the coast.”

Giving a salute “Yes Sir” the XO repeats the order to the navigation officer to set course. 

One after another each of the 7 ships leaves their designated ports, passing by destroyed ships. Some are finally no longer steaming, except for the steam of torches cutting through the scrap by salvage crews working hard to clean up the mess. Ships completely sunk with bits and pieces sticking out of the water. 

The first stop of the convoy was 50 miles away from the coast. Land slowly got smaller, and smaller, and small till no land could be seen. The ships get into convoy formations and hold. A helicopter from the USS Abraham Lincoln goes and picks up each other ship captain or a special mission briefing. The USS Virginia sent a small boat with the captain. 

Captain Quarters, USS Abraham Lincoln, 1130 Hours

The Captains of the convoy convey in the meeting Quarters of the USS Abraham Lincoln. Her captain, Cap. James Anderson greets them all with a glass of whiskey in his hand. 

“While we wait for Miss O’Conner to join us I just want to give a little toast to those we lost on Earth. And a thank you to the President for the gift. Cheers!” Raising his glass in respect. 

“Cheers!” The other captains in unison. The President made sure to give everyone a bottle of the good stuff. For special occasions. Captain Richard was unfortunate to bring his bottle with him because that was the one they were drinking now. 

“So, I heard that Ambassador O’Conner came along with someone else. Some guy in a black suit carrying her bags. Any ideas?” Captain Elizabeth Lambert, USS Arleigh Burke, questioned. The other captains, enjoying their Whiskey, shake their heads. Looking over to the hosting captain. “Captain? Your thoughts?”

“Not much, just that I was informed she'd be accompanied by someone. You know as much as I do. Most likely an aide or something.” Cap. Anderson replies, taking a sip of the Whiskey. 

Knock Knock

“Must be Miss O’Conner and her aide” Cap. Anderson, taking a final sip of the drink. Puts the glass down and makes his way to the door. The other captains take this cue to finish their small drinks and get professional. Upon opening the door, he’s greeted by the two. On the left, Kelly O’Conner, 35 years old, has red hair, and pale white skin, about 5 foot 8 inches. 

The man on her right though was interesting. Black suit, black shoes, clean-shaven, very confident looking. Like a background agent character in “Men in Black”. 

“Miss O'Connor I presume” Reaching his hand out, smiling.

Shaking his hand, “That is correct Captain. And this is Mark Fontaine, he will be helping me with the proceedings in Westeros.” She gives a little gesture to the man standing next to her.

“Hello Captain” The man greets as he shows an I.D. and badge reading “CIA Special Agent”

Looking from the badge to the agent, “Uh, welcome. Please come in and have a seat. Would you like a drink?” the captain gestures for them both to enter. The ambassador takes him up on the offer, but the agent doesn't. He just walks over to a corner away from everyone and just, waits.

“Oh boy,”  the captain says quietly to himself.

With everything settled, Captain Anderson flicks on a camera to record everything for later on and begins the mission brief. “Alright. With everyone here, we should get started. My name is James Anderson, I am the Captain of the USS Abraham Lincoln.”

Looking over to the Ambassador, “Miss O’Conner, if you would take it from here” gesturing her over.

“Thank you, Captain.” She takes her place right next to the TV on the wall behind her. Connecting a laptop to begin. Captain Anderson takes a seat right next to the other captains. 

With the laptop set, Kelly begins the brief. “I will cut straight to the chase, as you all know we are going to Lannisport, Westeros. We will not know who or what we will be dealing with when we get there, but thanks to the crew of the ISS and what is left of our satellites in orbit we have deduced we are somewhere after Aegon's Conquest from the book series “A Song of Ice and Fire” and with the last week of constant surveillance we have seen no site of any dragons. Which helps us roughly estimate the time period of this world we are in.”

The TV screen changes to multiple satellite images of snow-covered land. “From the images from “The Wall,” it appears that only 3 castles are occupied, which narrows things down” 

The image switches to a vast city. The notable part is right next to the ocean. A massive blood-red castle. “From the images above “King’s Landing” we can see what we believe to be the ruins of the “DragonPit”. Here circles in red. This is the “Great Sept of Baelor”. And this massive castle is notable “The Red Keep” named for the blood-red stone bricks used in its construction.”

The slide changed to a ruined castle. “Looking through the books and comparing maps so far, we have determined that this castle is Summerhall. Which is in ruins, which helps us greatly. The short story from the series is about a king named “King Aegon V, Targaryen” Tried to hatch dragon eggs using wildfire, and it got out of hand and burned the castle.”

A little bit confused, Captain Elizabeth Lambert, raised her hand a little for a question, “Why is each of these little bits of information important?”

 Looking over to the captain, taking a sip of water. “That is a good question. Quite simply, tells who we will most likely be dealing with.” The next side shows a timeline “This timeline shows 39 years from the “Tragedy of Summerhall” in 259 AC to about the start of the book series “A Song of Ice and Fire” in 298 AC”

“This 39-year timespan tells us who will most likely be the Lord of Casterly Rock. Tywin Lannister. And just about every key player on this continent. All the information is in these packets”

On the ground is a box, Kelly picks up said box, struggling. And plops it on the table with a thud . Begins to take out and pass out a very thick packet to each Captain. The packet is titled “Brief History of ASOIAF, Regions, Houses, Lords and Ladies, Brief Rivalries, etc.”

Kelly continues. “Now, these packets have all the important information about the books, the TV shows, the important families of the continent, and other important facts. The President wanted each of you to have this packet to look through, we have more for senior officers and other commands in the military. I would highly suggest reading it at least twice. And another thing, when we meet these people. We have to remain clueless on who they are, this continent, the history, all of it.”

Flipping through the packet, Captain Jason Mendez of the USS Makin Island shows some confusion about the information.“I presume we have to keep quiet to the locals to not scare them? What about the sailors on our ships? I also presume we will need to give them orders to keep quiet about this information to the locals?”

Looking at him, “That is correct, yes. They can talk about it amongst themselves and basically everyone from home, just not from Planetos.”

After answering the captain's question, Kelly gestures to the mysterious man in the corner that came with her.  “Agent, would you like to explain the next portion?”

The man in the black suit makes his way over to the front of the room, “Thanks, Kelly” she takes a seat right next to the TV. The man switches the scene into another image. Titled “The Rock” with a massive satellite image of a mountain.  

Cough Cough The man in the black suit clears his voice to begin and get everyone's attention. “My name is Agent Mark Fontaine, I’m from the CIA. As of now, all the information I tell you is Top Secret. I am not on this ship, I am not even a hundred miles close to Norfolk.”

“Now then, this is Casterly Rock, you have all seen it at the original debrief before we departed. For our National Security, I have been assigned to you all for a few specific purposes, but for now, I have been authorized to tell you the first one. To get eyes and ears inside of Casterly Rock.”

The Captains are now very confused. Especially with the revelation of this man's identity. 

“Now to do this we will be using highly advanced, highly classified drones”

“How advanced are you talking, Agent?” Captain Jesse Frank, of the USS Virginia, questions the man for clarification. 

Agent Fontaine gives a little smirk, “See for yourself” He Snaps his fingers and a little mechanical noise appears out of nowhere. So faint, it sounds like a children's toy. The Captains turn their heads to find the source of the noise. 

“Look,” one of them says, pointing to the ceiling of the quarters. The object said captain is referring to looks like a spider, a metallic spider. Looks like it could fit in the palm of your hand. It has one blue glowing eye. The spider makes its way above Agent Fontaine and jumps ever so lightly onto his hand. It just idles there, watching the men and women in the quarters.

The agent begins to explain, “This is Project Charlotte’s Web. The guys who designed these little guys call them Spyders. Each is assigned a specific name, and built with a highly intelligent A.I. This is Lucas.”

The metal spider looks around and at the Captains, and gives a little wave. Everyone waves back, cautiously. 

“We have enough of them to infiltrate The Rock and transmit all information they gather back to us”, the agent explains as the Spyder “Lucas” crawls up his arm and takes a seat on his shoulder. “Any question?”

“Yeah, I have one. How will we deliver “them” to The Rock?” Captain Frank, questioned the agent.

“We will simply use a remote drone submarine and deliver them here” he points to a port at the base of the Rock “To the side of this port, each one of the Spyders will make their way inside the massive castle to collect information. Each acting as a transceiver to one another to post the information back to us via satellite.” The agents analyzing each of the Captain's faces, satisfied, turned to Miss O'Conner. “Miss O’Conner, would you like to continue?”

“Yes, that would be best” She gets up to the TV, and Lucas gives her a little wave as the agent walks back over and takes a seat next to the captains. 

Changing the TV to a map. “Now, It will take just about two days to reach 10 miles off the coast of Lannisport. We should get there at around 1 am. To not scare the city, we should wait till sunrise to keep sailing towards the port city.”

“With how important this port city is, the port alone might be massive, but still small by our modern standard. With this in mind, the best bet is to have the USS Savannah be the ship that goes to their port.”

Captain Webb, concerned about the port, “The main thing we will have to look out for is how deep the port is, that is my main concern. We should use multiple drone subs to make scans of the port, just to be on the safe side.”

“Good. Now, if everything goes smoothly and according to plan. We may be able to convince Tywin Lannister to allow us to set up a port base of our own on his land, not right next to the Rock. But close enough. That is if we can make it worth his while. Once we have done that, the USS San Antonio will unload all the supplies she is carrying to the port base here.” Kelly points to the map, indicating the preferred base location, right next to the “Straits o’ Fair Isle”

“Alright, each vessel has been given a smaller version of the packet that I gave you moments ago for your crews. With simple dos and don'ts if some are given time to go on land etc. It is essential that everyone must understand not to discuss books and TV shows. Look like actors. Things like that. Basically just need to keep their mouths shut until given orders otherwise.” Looking to the captains for their understanding. 

Each Captain looks at the other and nods in agreement. 

Two Day Journey…

The voyage through unknown waters was surprisingly uneventful. It was smooth sailing for the seven-ship convoy. Partially cloudy, blue sky, 75–80 degrees outside. The crews of each navy vessel have been given orders to study the information packets given to them by senior leadership. 

The book series has been made available to download and read for those who want to refresh their knowledge and for those who have never read them. Specific times have been reserved in recreation areas of the vessels for showings of the TV show “Game of Thrones”. Crew members have also been assigned to a type of “Book Club” team to discuss all they have learned. These “Book Clubs” are set for specific hours that do not interfere with their ship duties.

Those who know quite a bit about the book/TV series have been asked to spread the information they know to their fellow crewmates. The mess halls have become a meeting area for crew members to spread the information they know. In doing this, the crew morale has increased exceptionally. 

Sunday night, 2359 Hours, November 2nd, 2025

The convoy had been traveling non-stop since their departure from Norfolk. The ocean was quiet as the convoy began to slowly chug along to their destination for the night. There was a fog on the ocean, like a subtle film on the surface of coffee. 

The wind was cooling on the face. The bridge of the USS Abraham Lincoln was quiet as the crewmen and women performed their nightly tasks. The Operations Officer (Ops) and the Navigator (NAV) were looking over multiple computer-generated maps compared to satellite imaging. Looking for errors and course adjustments that may be needed, if any. 

“How's our heading?” The Ops Officer asks quietly, looking at the map the NAV is adjusting. 

Not changing his gaze from his work, “Looks good sir, we are just about to reach our ten-mile buffer zone in five minutes”

The Ops pat the Navigator on the shoulder, “Good work, I'll let the XO know”. He walks over to the XO, sitting in the captain's chair enjoying the sight of the open water, a cup of coffee in his hand.

“XO,” he says, making himself known. XO, turning his head to the Operations Officer, “How's our course Ops? Everything going to schedule?” sipping his coffee. 

“Yes, Sir, we are five minutes from the ten-mile buffer.” He moves to a computer next to the XO, pulling up the satellite map. “From the imaging, we should be just out of sight from the locals at the port, with the help of the fog. Sunrise is five minutes to 0700 hours.”

The XO finished sipping on his coffee, “Good work, I will let the captain know. You're the OOD. I will be quick” gets up from the chair and leaves the bridge, coffee still steaming in the cupholder. 

Making his way through steel-covered corridors, and stairways to the Captain's quarters. Greeting a few passing sailors on the way. The door of the Captain's quarters was simple, just “Captain’s Quarters” printed.

The XO knocks on the door, then again. And waits patiently for the Captain to make his way to greet him. Most likely half asleep. 

The sound of locks unlocking can be heard. The Captain opens the door, eyes partially opened so as not to be blinded by the light. 

“Captain, we are just about at the ten-mile buffer zone.”

The Captain grunts in acknowledgment, “How long until sunrise again? Six? Seven Hours?

“Yes sir, just about.”

“Good. Wake me up two hours before sunrise.”

“Yes sir.” The XO salutes and walks back to the bridge.

0530 Hours

The convoy still floats in the calm ocean, waiting patiently for orders. 

0540 Hours

They are given the order to move at a slow pace to match the sunrise. Getting to 4 miles from the port just before sunrise

0630 Hours

The Ambassador, Kelly O’Connor, is transported over to the USS Savannah from the USS Abraham Lincoln via helicopter. Dressed and ready to begin. Her “aide” decided to stay behind to perform his mission. 

She is escorted from the helipad to the bridge and meets with Captain Richard Webb, who will accompany her in first contact. 

0645 Hours “Time to show ourselves”

The convoy ships are ordered to begin their slow movement, except for the USS Savannah. Her orders are to go ahead of the convoy and begin the contact procedure. The sailors of the convoy contain their excitement for history in the making. 

The sun begins to slowly rise from the east, lighting up the land before it. Gleaming. 

0715, “Contact”, Lannisport

Ormar Hill was in his first year as a City Watchman, so far it was alright. Pay could be better, but he had a roof over his head. Hot food in his belly. And people respected him, to an extent the City Watch gets in a place like this. Better than most bastards like him. He was making his morning rounds on the harbor of Lannisport's biggest section. 

Rumor was a ship from The Arbor was coming in a day or two with their very best. Sweet Red Wine. He had been saving up for months since the rumors started to spread to bribe a sailor for a Flagon of Arbor Gold. A normal watchman like him would never be able to afford something so nice, but he was a very good gambler and an even better cheater. He had a total of 5 Gold Dragons, but since this wine might be going straight to the King riding down from The North on the “King’s Road”, it's going to cost an extra 200 silver to get his hands on a flagon.

Looking westward, The Sunset Sea was beautiful this time of morning. It seems to glow in the rising sun. Squinting his eyes a little, he sees a strange silhouette, almost like a ship. It’s about a league or two out, hard to tell. 

Another watchman was 50 yards to his right and called to him. “Hey! Looks like a ship is coming in. Massive by the looks. Let the Captain know!”

“Aye!” The watchman understands and makes his way back to the city to inform the Captain of the pier. With all the rumors going about, the market has been flooded with eager buyers. More guards have been called in every few days to calm the city in case of a run on the boat. 

Ormar watched as the man made his way into the city. As he watched, he heard the sound of clanking chain mail to his left. Another watchman named Geran Hill, another bastard, made his way from his post 50 yards to the left. He walks to his side, taking in the Sunset Sea, especially the oncoming ship. 

“So, what will you be buying today? Let me guess. Arbor Red?” The man asks, giving Ormar a little jab in the arm. 

“Of course. Only kind of wine that doesn't make your teeth feel like they're rotting from your mouth!” Ormar retorts, they look at one another and laugh at their amusement.

“Oy. Did you hear about that northerner that gone mad? Fisherman that moved from the south to the north.” Geran asked curiously. Still chuckling 

“No. It was probably the North itself that made him go mad. With them being tree worshipers and whatnot.”

“Aye. Or maybe his wife fucked a wolf. And had a bastard like Lord Eddard Stark” Geran joked. Making both City Watchmen laugh even harder.

Their laughter subsides and they both look towards the first ship in the morning. But, Ormar notices something strange about it. It’s moving fast, too fast for a normal sailing ship.

Pointing at the oncoming ship with the butt-end of his spear, “Does that ship seem odd to you?” Ormar says with concern in his voice.

Geran nods in agreement, “Aye, look at the colour as well. Like a grey-ish. I can't describe it.” He slowly walks inland. 

“Let's go to the watchtower, I believe they just installed a Myrish Eye a fortnight or so ago. A gift from some tyroshi I think.” Omar says following his pace. The two men go from a walk to a trot, then to a jog.

Upon arriving at the tower, two watchmen were already looking through the Myrish Eye. Speaking amongst each other in haste, of what Ormar and Geran couldn’t say of what. Usually, these two spoke so loud you could hear them from the outer gates. 

“What do you see up there?” Geran yells to the men, climbing up the ladder. The men don't respond, adding a deeper level of concern. 

Reaching the top and standing behind the two men. Each of them takes turns looking through this long bronze, ornate tube, which he can only promise to be this “Myrish Eye” Ormar was talking about. Both of them are whispering to each other. 

“What's going on here!” Geran yells with authority, even though he doesn't have any. The two men jump in surprise. They didn’t even hear me climb up , Geran thought.

“Well? What does the ship look like?” He questions further. Both men look at each other and then at him.

“Best you look at it, I wouldn't even know where to begin. It’s a ship, that's for sure, but I’ve never seen anything like it in all my years.” The old watchman to the left says, eyes older than him.

They step aside as he walks up to the Myrish Eye, slouching a little and looking through with his right eye. He sees something extraordinary. A vessel of such size and colour. It looks like something out of a child's dream. It has no sails, no ores of men rowing. He couldn't tell how the hell’s the thing was moving. Something he did recognize though was the anchor on the nose of the ship, and there was a number on the side just behind it. 28. Just 28.

Just before he asked the other two watchmen next to him, Ormar came up wanting a look. “Well? What is it?” Ormar asks

Not taking his eyes off the ship, “Mate, I don’t even know how to describe it. It’s a ship, that's for sure, but it's massive. Look” Geran gestures for him to see through the Myrish Eye. Ormar takes Gerans place at the Myrish Eye.

Taking a minute to absorb the scene in front of his eyes, Ormar composes himself. Stands straight up and turns to the two sentry watchmen, “You two! Find the Lord Commander! Now!” He orders the original men of this watch tower. They nearly fell off the watchtower.

0725, USS Savannah

An hour before, the USS Savannah sent a drone submarine out to scan the water depth of the harbor. The good news, it was deep enough for the ship. Strange news, the seafloor was riddled with shipwrecks. Something to ask the locals about later. 

Kelly, excited for first contact, decided to have a quick breakfast. Which was the equivalent of her college days. Piece of buttered toast and a Red Bull. She watched as the men and women of the USS Savannah moved around the bridge. Like bees. 

Looking out the window, she watched as the Savannah slowly came to the pier, 500 yards, 475 yards, 450 yards. Slowly creeping into the harbor. 

The captain, Captain Richard Webb, was giving out final orders. He turned to his XO “XO You have command. Keep an eye out for anything suspicious”

“Don’t worry. If it looks like trouble, we’ll fire off a warning shot to scare the locals. Or maybe just a blast of the fog horn.” she says with a smirk.

He matches that smirk, “Good to hear. Miss O'Conner and I will be on the flight deck. Radio when we're about to be docked.” they salute each other, Captain Richard turns to Kelly “Ready to go ma’am?”

“I guess so, but don’t you think this is a little much?” She says as they both leave the bridge. What she is referring to is the black body armor on her. It’s heavy and restrictive. 

Capt Webb chuckles, “Our job is to meet the locals, and at the same time protect you. So, better safe than sorry. We originally wanted you to wear a helmet but decided against it. You can take it off in the meantime before we go ashore. And if things on the ground look safe enough, you won't have to put it back on.” She quickly takes off the 25-pound armor plate without a second thought. 

He decided to take his off as well, fully showing his Service Dress Blue Uniform, he offered to take hers as well. She takes him up on the offer with a smile.

They make their way out to the flight deck, where four Marines are waiting for them. In green Combat Utility Uniform, wearing the same type of body armor. Pistol in a holster. A SIG Sauer P320-M18. With a specialized M27-IAR. With a radio and an assortment of equipment, she couldn’t name to save her life.

Oddly enough, none of the marines noticed them come outside. They were too busy looking port side up. Matching their gaze, she could understand why. A massive red mountain. No. A castle, built into a mountain. It could only be one thing. Casterly Rock. The satellite photos couldn't do it justice as to how big it was. Clouds pass by, truly showing the height.

The Captain's radio goes off, reporting for docking. She could feel the Savannah slow beside the pier under her feet. Deciding to get the ball rolling she walks over to the starboard side. Looking over at the city, it looks like something out of a history book. Stones buildings, high watch towers. It felt as if she was back in Dubrovnik, Croatia during her honeymoon.

She could see markets all along the main shore pier. It was busy, but everyone had stopped to watch the ship come into the harbor. There must have been six or seven dozen people, maybe more looking at them. Their faces in awe. 

Captain Webb joins her to take in the scenery, but he has to interrupt it. “Ma’am, looks like we have some company,” He said, pointing to the two men in red and gold armor walking down the stone pier, armor clanking with each step. 

Spears in hand. Ormar and Geran walk cautiously but confidently over to this massive grey ship. Above it was a sigil, neither of the men recognized it. They noticed two figures with another four behind them. On the left was a woman and on the right was a man. The back four, clearly guards of some sort.

They get about shouting distance from them, and they stare at each other. Not a word, not a whisper. Just the ocean breeze going by.

Kelly notes the armor the two men are wearing. The primary color scheme is red and gold. An ornate piece of a lion on the chest piece. Silver Helmet with a nose bridge for protection. Red cloak with a golden outline. Weapons are a long spear, a sword on one side of the hip, and a knife on the other.

She looked back at the five men with her. Marines armed with a pistol and rifle. And Captain Richard just had a pistol. “We might be over-protected,” She thought, knowing that even a 9mm could pierce that armor like paper.

“Hello down there. Do you speak English?” She yelled to the two strangers. Surprisingly, they seemed to understand her, which just made things a hell of a lot easier. No translator is needed. 

“Who is it, and where do you come from? Are you friend or foe!” the one on the right demands of her. “Off to an ok start, I guess,” she thinks.

“We come as friends. I am Ambassador Kelly O’Conner. And this is Captain Richard Webb of the USS Savannah. This ship.” She gestures to the vessel they stand on, “And we come from the United States of America. We are from the west of this place. What is this city called?” She finished telling the two men. She remembered she had to play ignorance in the meantime. Can’t give away her knowledge of the world they are in.

“This is the City of Lannisport, The Westerlands. Lord Tywin Lannister, Warden of the West, the Shield of Lannisport, Lord of Casterly Rock. Rules over the Westerlands. His cousin, Lord Tyran Lannister, governs this city.” the guard on the left says.

“May we meet Lord Tyran and Lord Tywin Lannister?” Kelly asks the guards, hoping talks could start today.

“My Lord Tyran Lannister is not here, he is meeting with Lord Tywin” the guard replies and points his spear at the massive mountain/castle. “He is there, Casterly Rock.”

“I see, well if it's alright with you could we come-” Before she could finish 5 more city guards came in a jogged over to the other 2, the one leading them was in more ornate armor. A lion-shaped helmet, with hair running down the back, and a deeper red cloak. The original two stands in attention for the presumably leader. They speak for a few moments, all the while the leader looks over to her and the captain.

The ornate one, clearly a high-ranking officer of some sort. Makes his way closer to the ship, keeping his surroundings in check to not fall into the water.

“My name is Ser Torran Lannister, Lord Commander of the city watch. You wish to speak with Ser Tyran, my father? And Lord Tywin?” The Lord Commander sounded in his 30s. Rough-sounding voice. 

“Why?” The man demands.

Kelly, taken aback a little at the rude command, “We wish to have diplomatic talks with the ruler of this land and open up trade and commerce.” The man still looking at them, she could feel the caution in the man's eyes. “May we come ashore? We come as friends.”

The commander was still skeptical. Orders his men to block off the pier leading to them. And orders one of the original two to run somewhere. To where she couldn't say.

“My Lady, you and your companions may come ashore. But I warn you if you mean violence.” He grabs the hilt of his sword, “We will not hesitate to defend ourselves”

Kelly looks to the captain and the Marines. Then back at the Lord Commander, “We understand, we will be down in 5 minutes.” 

They walk away from the side of the ship, “Well, so far so good. What now?” Kelly asks the Captain

Captain Webb thinks for a moment, “Now? We go ashore and explain ourselves. Without giving away a crap-ton of our knowledge”

“Good enough for me” Agreeing with him. The Captain calls for the Marines to follow them inside. Through the door, and down some stairs that lead to the mission cargo bay. A squad of marines is examining equipment and final checks in case things go sideways.

  The Captain walks over and greets the Squad Leader, the four marines from earlier following. A young man, probably early 20s, freshly shaven, hair kept neat. Both men talk for a time. Once finished, the Squad Leader gives a salute. The Captain returns it. 

The Captain returns to Kelly as the squad of marines is given their orders and finish up what they were doing. “So. What did you tell them?” she questions the Captain

Looking at her, “I simply told them the truth. If things seem to get dicey, I'll radio for the whole squad to come out of the ship.”

Before she could reply, a woman crew member greeted them both with a salute.  “Captain. The ramp is ready to go when you are.” 

“Shall we?” Captain Webb gestures over to the cargo ramp.

On the pier, a small crowd of City Watchmen joins Lord Commander Torran Lannister to meet these “Strangers”. All of them have been ordered to stand in a straight line from side to side. Just as a precaution. The man who spotted these “Strangers” came back as well. 

But the curiosity is too strong, it takes control of their discipline. Looking in awe and wonder at the strange “ship”. Studying its lack of sails and oars, “How does it move”, and “What keeps it afloat, it is clearly made of metal.”, “It seems to be steel. It shouldn’t be afloat.” So many questions, the waiting to ask them is agonizing. 

Buzz, Whirr, Ca-Clunk, Vroom. Hissing

Abruptly, the ship starts to make a loud and strange noise that startles the watchmen. On the Starboard Quarter side, a massive door or ramp comes down onto the stone pier. The noises were nothing any of the men had heard before, like a sheep or a goat being slaughtered. Or the sound of metal being beaten on. Such loud noises. 

With a loud THUD , the ramp settles down on the pier. And the strangers walk out. Lord Commander Torran Lannister, and the other City Watchman that first spotted the strange vessel. He couldn’t remember or care to remember his name. All he knew was that he was a bastard. Watched as the strangers walked down their ramp. 

Taking her first step on the stone pier. Kelly felt like an astronaut. A new era of history beginning. 

The Captain and the four Marines followed suit, standing tall with pride. The sun gleamed on the metal of the rifles. 

The ambassador’s group and the two watchmen were 25 yards away from each other. Just staring at one another, waiting for one of them to make the first move. The water waves move up and down the pier stone. The air was still, not a sound, not a whisper. 

Lord Commander Torran, breaks the ice, turning to order five watchmen to block the way. “Mmm”. He grunts to the Watchmen next to him to follow. The metal of their armor subtle clinks and clangs with each step. 

On cue, Kelly and Captain Webb match them, two Marines stay behind, and the other two follows without missing a beat. Strides matching. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot.

All eyes at the market were on the two groups moving to meet. The market is silent, except for the sound of animals. Waiting for something bad to happen. 

5 yards. 5 yards was the most comfortable length Kelly wanted. The Lord Commander seemed to agree, stopping in his step. Both groups now still, examine one another, taking in every detail they can see. A small gust of wind came past, flowing the Lord Commander’s deep red cloak.  

Lord Commander Torran, examines each of the strangers. The first two up front are the important ones. The left one, a woman, surprisingly. Wore a strange blue Tunic that was cut halfway down, with a white shirt that seemed to have buttons. With some black trousers with black shoes that seemed to shine in the sun. The man on the right is clearly military. It was in what seemed to be all black, with certain areas in gold. He had a strange thing on his head, not a helmet but a cap, maybe. One thing they both have in common is a pin, on their left breast, small with what seem to be stripes of red and white.

“Their armor is, interesting, to say the least.” Kelly thinks to herself, as she studies the two men in front of her. The Lord Commander’s armor made him shine. His gold breastplate had an ornate metalwork of rings going down the middle. It seemed to give him ample mobility, with the mix of leather and chain mail pants. Red arm and bits of leg armor. His helmet was shaped like a lion, with brown hair flowing from the top. 

The other guard's armor was just, basic. Gold head to toe, the parts that moved a lot were flaking. His helmet was a silvery-grey. Freshly cleaned to not tarnish. The man's cloak was clean, except for the bottom bits. It looked like he walked through some, hopefully, “Mud”. His shoes also had bits of this “Mud” on it as well. Looking at the guard closer, it wasn't a man. But a young man, probably 19-20. 

Deciding to start introductions over again, “Allow me to reintroduce myself. My name is Kelly O’Conner, Ambassador for the United States of America. This is Captain Richard Webb of the USS Savanah.” Kelly gestures to the vessel once more “And these are our guards, US Marines” Gesturing to the 2 men behind her, motionless, no expression on their faces.

“My name is Torren Lannister, Son of Lord Tyran Lannister, Lord Commander of the City Watch of Lannisport.” The Lord Commander says in kind.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Commander,” she says, walking over to the man with her hand out to shake.

Skeptical, he walks to shake her hand. It’s soft, like someone who has never worked in a field. He decides to ask the obvious question, “So where is this, United States of America?”

“We are located West of here. About 6 to 700 miles to be exact. Took us about two days to get here.”

“700 miles? In two days? That is impossible. Even if the winds are on your side, as well as the weather. That would take you nine days, a week, at minimum.” The Lord says, in shock, taking his hand away from the “Ambassador”. 

“What magic is this?” Looking at the ship these “Strangers” had.

“It is not magic, Lord Commander, but use something called an “Engine” to power our vessels. That is how we got here so fast.”  Captain Webb exclaimed. He could hear the pride in every word the man spoke. 

Still looking at the ship, “Siege Engines move this ship? How is that possible?”

“Not that kind of engine Lord Commander. It’s hard to explain. The engines burn fuel that moves turbines.” The Captain tried to explain

The Lord Commander decided to move past that. “We never knew that a kingdom was out in The Sunset Sea, every few years some sailer would go out far that way and never return.”

“Not surprised. To tell you the truth, we weren’t out there as a few weeks ago. That was until The Storm happened, then all of a sudden we just popped up here.” The Captain decided to go with the truthful answer. 

Now the Lord Commander was visibly confused, as well as the guard next to him. They looked at each other in this confusion, then back to the “stranger”,  “My lord, I don’t quite understand. How does a kingdom just how you say “Popped” out of nowhere?”

Giving a little chuckle, “We are not a kingdom Lord Commander. That doesn't matter now. What we’re saying is that we are not from this world. And to answer the “How”. We simply don’t know right now.” The Captain replied.

“I presume this land is a Kingdom. What is its name and who is the king?” Kelly said, wanting to move past what the Captain just said.

“Yes, we are a Kingdom, my Lady. The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. King Robert of the house Baratheon, first of his name. King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.” The Lord Commander said, with all the bride of Lannister blood flowing through his veins.

“That is quite a title. We would be honored to meet him soon.” Kelly said, hopefully charming the man with pride to move things along. She felt a bit uncomfortable close to him. She could smell alcohol in his breath. 

The Lord Commander absorbed all the information that the two “Strangers” in front of him had given him. “It would probably be best for you to explain your situation to my father Lord Tyran Lannister, and the Warden of the West, Lord Tywin Lannister, I sent a man to the Keep of the City watch to send a raven to Casterly Rock to inform them of the situation. The man has strict orders to not send it until my command.”

“In the meantime, I can take you to the “Golden Keep” until we get a reply.” He says, pointing to a massive stronghold towards the end of the city, it looks hundreds, if not thousands of years old. Able to stand against the strongest storms.

Kelly, not wanting to be rude, “With all due respect Lord Commander, we have orders not to leave the sight of the ship for our safety. We would like to meet them here on the pier if that is alright. As a form of “Neutral Ground”. If that makes sense.”

The Lord Commander looks up and along the ship, “I don’t see any archers, but if you have orders then I understand. It will take some time before we get a reply from The Rock. I will tell them of your conditions”

“Thank You, Lord Commander” Kelly gives a little bow, and Captain Richard just nods his head. 

“My Lady,” The Lord Commander says to her, looking at the Captain, “Captain Richard Webb”. He and the guard give them both a bow and make their leave.

Watching both men walk away, except for the ones blocking the way to leave. Captain looks to Kelly.

“So. What now?”

“Now?” Kelly questions. “Now. We wait.”

Chapter Text

“Speak softly and carry a big stick; you will go far.”

-Theodore Roosevelt

Casterly Rock, 7:50 am, July 26th, 298 After Aegon's Conquest

Casterly Rock, the high seat of House Lannister. This immense castle has been their home since Lann the Clever tricked the original inhabitants “House Casterly” into leaving and claimed it for himself. Which, in turn, allows him to pass it to his descendants, House Lannister. But it wasn’t much of a castle as it was a hollowed coastal mountain filled with rooms, halls, tunnels, and dungeons. Even the Targaryens, during their heyday with their dragons, will have a hard time impregnating their natural defense.

With its immense gold mines in and under the mountain, House Lannister has become and still is the richest and most powerful House in all the Seven Kingdoms. And will stay that way for as long as their lord, Lord Tywin Lannister, the great lion of the rock wills it. And as he demonstrated by drowning the mines of Castamere and with it, every remaining man, woman, and children of the rebellious House Reyne, whether through gold, iron, fire, or song, the “Old Lion”  will stop at nothing to have his family's name etched into the books of history, with the charred remains of Tarbeck Hall and Castamere serves as reminders what would happen to anyone who stands in his way. 

The Lions Hall, located near the highest point of “The Rock” has been the main hall for many centuries. Weather for meals, holiday festivals, receiving foreign dignitaries, as well as conducting business for other Westermen lords. Draped and coloured in red and gold. A massive hearth sits in the middle of the great hall, carved in stone to look like a Lion. 

Other side of the hearth are two massive balconies facing The Sunset Sea. The ledges are carved into lion arms. For a normal castle, these sound like vulnerabilities but because it is located near the highest point of “The Rock” it does not matter. With the mix of high winds and temperature at this height, no man could or would dare to climb the mountain. 

Three massive blackwood tables occupy the hall, each of them is large enough to sit around 50 people on either side. With room for another 3 tables extended. Each is also stained red with ornate gold on the sides and legs, with the legs in the shape of golden lions.

Currently, at the head of the middle table sits 3 men enjoying breakfast. Quiet and solemn. These particular 3 men are some of The most powerful men throughout the Seven Kingdoms, which makes them the most powerful men in the Westerlands by default. At this moment, they just finished up their three-course breakfast meal. Freshly Baked Golden Loaf of bread with honeycomb, blackberry jam, and butter. Honeyed Almonds to go along with their assortment of drinks served in golden goblets, roaring lions etched on the surface. Spiced honey wine, a single goblet of Golden Arbor Wine. With a palate cleanser of Herbal Tea, mint and chamomile blend. 

Their main dishes were poached eggs, smoked bacon, and venison sausages. Accompanied by aged Lannisport cheddar and expensive soft goat cheese that Lord Tyran of the Lannister cadet branch in Lannisport brought with him to the keep. With a final small silver bowl of stewed pears with honey. 

Lord Tywin Lannister had just finished his final pear, washing it down with spiced honey wine before he turned to his guest. “Tyran. You wished to speak with me about refitting the Lannisport City Watch? May I ask why?” Looking at his distant cousin, taking a large piece of sausage and dipping it into egg yolk. 

The Lord of Lannisport stops mid-bite, chews, swallows, and looks to his highlord. “Well my lord, one of the reasons as to why is that most of the armour and weapons are in poor condition. Breastplates are rusting more quickly, which in turn requires city watchmen to have to spend more time cleansing and maintaining them. Not to mention the equally rusted sword hilts. This also goes for the helms, many of which, the leather underneath, has been eaten by rats.”

“A fortnight ago, multiple swords and spears were stolen from the armory through an eroded hole in the wooden wall. As you know, when we caught the thieves, many of them chose to lose a hand instead of being sent to live their entire nights in barren and cold lands in the North. We wish to completely build a new armory out of stone instead to stop such thievery from happening again.”

Lord Tywin stared at him, his pale green eyes flecked with gold digging deep in him.

“If that was the case, then why hasn't your son come to me by himself with this matter? It was his duty as The Lord Commander is he not?” The Tywin demanded of him

“My… my Lord Tywin, he asked me to bring this to you-”

“So which one was it now?”

“Pardon me, my lord?”

“Which one was it now? Drunken his arse off again in the Sailor’s Song? Or letting his cock out off the leash in the Golden Delight? I want to know.” He demanded to know, “If it wasn't for him being born a Lannister I would have sent him to scrub the stables for the rest of his days. Now answer me.” The Lord's voice rose slightly higher.

Tyran felt himself shrink into his chair, fearful. “Yes, my lord, I believe he has frequented the Sailor’s Song again these days. But I will command him to stop at once.”

“Good. As for refitting the City Watch, I will let Kevan hammer out the details with you. Is that suitable for you?” Lord Tywin questions his brother on his other side.

Ser Kevan, silently taking a drink of his glass of mint tea, “Yes of course my Lord.”

The doors leading into the Lion's Hall creak open for a Lannister Guard, “My Lord Tywin, Maester Creylen is here to see you. A raven had just arrived from Lannisport; it brought an urgent message, he said.” The guard's voice echoes through the Hall.

“Send him in.” Lord Tywin orders, taking another drink of spiced honey wine. The three men watch the door as the guard ushers in the Maester.

Maester Creylen, a rather young man for a Maester in his 30 years, stooped with his shoulder-length brown hair. Quickly moves past the guard and b-lining it to the high lords, clearly showing that he needs to inform them of some urgent matter.

“My lords.” The young  Maester greets them, “Lord Tywin and Ser Kevan, a raven from Lannisport, has come with a black wax-sealed message.” he says in a voice just loud enough for the three men to hear.

“Black wax seal, you said? Pass me the message.” The Hall goes silent, except for the hall door closing as the guards make their exit. Tywin takes the message, its high-quality parchment rolled up tightly with a black wax seal in the middle. Imprinted on it is the Lion of Lannister. A black wax seal stands for urgency.

Lord Tywin snaps the seal and unravels the parchment and reads. For quite some time. Both Ser Kevan and Lord Tyran sit and watch patiently as their highlords' eyes move back and forth at the parchment several times.

“It seems your drunkard of a son has outdone himself this time, Lord Tyran.” Lord Tywin says letting the parchment partially roll back up and handing it to the confused lord. “Read it out loud, so maybe I can hear the stupidity” the Lord of The Rock commands.

Taking the parchment and flattening it out, Lord Tyran begins to read.

“ To the Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, Shield of Lannisport, My Lord Tywin Lannister,

Strangers from far away in the Sunset Sea wish an audience with you and my father Lord Tyran Lannister. They hailed from a country named “The United States of America.” Two envoys, Lady Kelly O’Connor and Captain Richard Webb of the USS Savannah wish to meet with you on the pier at what they referred to as “Neutral Ground” for a parley. The lady awaits an answer from you soon.

- Lord Commander of Lannisport City Watch, Ser Torren Lannister ”

As Tyran finished the message, “Either your son has gone Aerys or is so drunk he’s become equally mad.” Lord Tywin speaks. 

“My Lord, Please. I know my son loves to drink, but he would never send a message such as this without good reason. Let alone with a black seal.” Tyran exclaims, trying to save himself and his son the humiliation. 

Lord Tywin looks to his brother for counsel, “Kevan, do you believe the Lord Commander Torren was telling the truth for once?”

Ser Kevan takes a few moments to consider everything he knows about the Lord Commander and his message. Yes, he does have a great appetite for wine and whores, there's no doubt about that. But he still takes his job as Lord Commander of the City Watch very seriously. In fact, he was so dutiful that he once cut off the hand of a criminal who tried to bribe him. Kevan even has thought of recommending to send him to King's Landing to replace the current Lord Commander there, Janos Slynt.

“Say what you will about the man my lord. But I believe he’s telling the truth. He’s known to take his duty as the Lord Commander very seriously.” Ser Kevan concludes. Lord Tywin ponders for a few moments, his face still.

“Maester Creylen, I require your Myrish Eye that is in your study. Get some guards to help you, and bring it back here.” Lord Tywin ordered the Maester.

“Yes, My Lord.” The young Maester shuffles quickly out of the Lions Hall to do his lord's bidding. 

20 minutes pass when the Lions Hall doors open, letting 4 guards come carrying in the Maester’s Myrish Eye, with the Maester following suit. Clad in red and gold, ornate with the sigils of House Lannister, roaring lions standing proud. The tube is as long as a child in his 14th year. The guards take it to the left balcony.

Lord Tywin then wordlessly gets up from his seat and makes his way to the balcony facing the Sunset Sea. Ser Kevan and Lord Tyran get up to follow him. The Maester shuffles behind the three lords, falling behind him are the four men, breathing heavily as they struggle to carry the cumbersome Eye.

The Old Lion then looks over the balcony down in the direction of Lannisport, he then nods to order the guards to leave the Eye near where he’s standing. At this height, he can see the entire city. Settling his eyes on the harbor, he sees something peculiar. What looks like a grey sword from this height, the shape of a sword that hasn't had its finer details hammered in by a smith. 

The other two men join him on the balcony, with the Maester staying to the side. Joining in his gaze, Lord Tyran speaks the obvious. “Gods be good, what even is that a ship? It’s massive! And is that made of steel!?”

“Aye, and look over there. There are more of them.” Kevan exclaims, pointing farther out to sea. Tywin takes the Myrish Eye and looks west towards the direction that his brother is pointing. 

What he sees is completely astounding and almost cracks his dignified demeanour.

Five incoming ships, each in variable sizes of massive but all of them in the same colour. Grey, and seemingly made of the same material, Metal. The biggest of them is leading in the front. Said leading ship looks like a long sword, with a big enough deck to host an entire jousting event on its own and still has some room left . Next to it, another ship is rectangular in shape, smaller in length, but still very much in the massive category. 

Massive metal ships are already heavily concerning on their own, but for Tywin it was nothing compared to what the biggest ones carried on its deck. The big leading ship is carrying bird-shaped objects on its deck, at least dozens of them, on the other hand the ones onboard the smaller rectangular ship are shaped with the image of a dragonfly, including constructs similar to insect wings above it. Just the fact that said objects are shaped as such already gives Tywin a rough idea of what it could possibly be. 

And even though he would rather die in a privy than show it in his face, he cannot lie to himself that said idea unsettles and even fears him greatly. Mainly due to the fact that the closest comparison he could think of had already died out more than 200 years ago.

He watches as the five ships move into a quarter ring. Except for a small gap at the left flank, the message is clear as day: Lannisport is now blockaded.

“M-my Lord. What should we do? Such massive ships…there’s no way our fleet, even in its prime, could scratch them. We haven’t even finished rebuilding them after the Ironborn raid, and now this… We are doomed…doomed.” Lord Tyran's voice wavers, his desperate pleas showing his lack of resolve. 

Tywin simply ignores the craven lord's question, he will deal with him later, and adjusting the Myrish Eye, he then focuses his eyes on the docked ship. Two figures stand near its prow. One in black clothes, and the other in blue. The blue figure raised a hand, waving. He can make out pale skin and red hair from this distance. A woman. The woman holds something to her face. A device, black as night, shaped much like this Myrish Eye he looks through now.

“It seems I have allowed Lannisport to become a plaything for children, a woman,” he says at last, his voice devoid of all emotion. “The main envoy is a woman.”

Kevan steps closer. “My Lord? How can you tell?” 

Tywin finally lowers the Myrish Eye and fixes his brother with a look so sharp it could carve stone.

“Because she is waving at me like a child.” Taking the Myrish Eye, Tywin points it to Kevan to observe with his own eyes before making his way back into the Lions Hall.

“Maester Creylen.” Tywin calls.

“Yes, My Lord?”

“Fetch me a parchment, quill, and ink. They want my answer, then I shall give it to them.” 

USS Savannah, 8:00 am, November 3rd, 2025

Kelly watched as the two other high lords entered back through the balcony. Satisfied, she hands Captain Richard his binoculars. “Well, I think we got their attention now.”

“Oh, I say that he’s gonna be pissed, Especially since he most likely has spotted the rest of our fleet. If there’s anything I know about our old lion, it is that he absolutely hates being disrespected and laughed at. So maybe we’re kind of stepping out of the line,” The Captain states, taking the binoculars from Kelly. 

Both Kelly and Richard turn and walk back to a group of Marines setting up a massive canopy for their meeting. Drilling holes into the foundation to hold it steady from winds.

“I know. But he won’t show it. He knows the game of thrones too well.” She says, looking back at this ancient city. “We just need to show him that we mean business and not to be underestimated. And besides, we also brought with ourselves some gifts for peace offering if the need comes to be.”

clop clop clop clop

Looking to the noise, “Well, well, looks like we have more company.” Looking back, “Look alive Marines!” Captain Richard yells for the working men and women. Upon hearing his call, they drop their tools and reach for their weapons. Making a defensive line in front, what they see is strange. A man on a horse, wearing what looks like grey robes. Alone.

A Few Minutes Earlier

Lorwell, formerly of the House Smallwood, Maester of Lannisport, was Assigned to Castle Golden Keep. The Riverman has been in service to the Lannisters of Lannisport for the last 25 years after forging his chains at the Citadel at the age of 30. Now in his 55th year, had first heard the commotion at the Lion’s Sea Step by overhearing servants working out in the garden just outside the window of the rookery. 

“Queer things are a happening down at the harbour. Men lead by a woman, pale as snow, and hair red as a Tully.” An older servant exclaimed.

“Bah! You’re a liar!” A young man yelled. “No man would ever be led by a woman, especially by those meek trouts who can’t even get their own bannermen in line.”

“It is true! It is true! They came from this massive ship, grey in colour. Strange looking thing it is!” The older one continued. 

Such a peculiar thing to hear servants say, the old Maester thinks as he continues his studies. He then hears his ravens croak, indicating he is about to have visitors. 

The door creaked open to reveal none other than the Lord Commander of Lannisport City Watch himself, Ser Torren Lannister, his liege lord's son. “Maester Lorwell” the Lord Commander greets the old Maester. At least he has not forgotten his courtesies. 

“Lord Commander, How may I be of service?” the Maester says, giving a bow of his head, showing his mostly grey hair. 

“Maester Lorwell, I need you to send this message by your fastest raven, at once.” the Lord Commander says, handing him a tightly rolled parchment. Upon further inspection, he sees the peculiar part of this whole conversation. A Black Wax seal, a new development yes, but still only used in cases of the utmost emergency.

“My lord? What has happened? Are we being attacked by the Ironborn?” The Maesters voice became worrisome, could the strangers those servants were speaking of be Ironborn in disguise? A new weapon? The Maester still remembers the burning of the Lannister fleet during the Greyjoy Rebellion.

“No Maester Lorwell. Just send the message and then I will explain.” Gesturing to him to grab a raven. Doing so, the Maester picks the fastest one, tying the message to its leg and tossing the raven out the window. Turning back to him, “Now, Lord Commander please explain.”

As the Lord Commander explained, Lorwell's curiosity grew with every detail. Appearing lands beyond the Sunset Sea? Ship of metal with no oarsmen or sails? Men in green, holding iron sticks?

“The United States of America? Such a queer name for a kingdom. Let alone the fact that they were not declared themselves as such.” The Maester says to himself as he ponders for a moment for clarity.

“Lord Commander. Can you take me to them?” He asks him, but it seems the Lord Commander's mind is on something else. “My Lord?”

“Huh? Oh yes. My apologies. I am afraid not, I have to get the city ready for the eventual arrival of Lord Tywin and my father to come to the city. See you soon, Maester Lorwell.” The Lord Commander gives a short bow and makes his leave.

“Lions”, the words came out with hints of sorrow. The Maester practically raised Torren since he was first assigned to Lannisport. He was such a bright boy, with a lot of potential. 

“Damn those Lannisters and their “Lions pride” nonsense.” The Maester said as he packed small things into his hidden sleeve pockets.

The Maester exited the rookery, and all the while ravens croaked and squawked. The wooden door closed with a subtle thump .

The Maester made his way down to the courtyard to the stables, passing by more servants and guards. All gossiping about the Lion’s Sea Step. More and more rumors most likely, he thought to himself. Surprisingly even the stable boys were speaking amongst themselves as they readied his horse. 

The ride down to the Lion’s Sea Step was a long one, especially at the speed he was going. The city was more active than usual at this time of day. “Must be because of these strangers” he thought to himself as he forced his way through. His legs were sore as he made the last turn. 

“So. It is true.” Maester Lorwell said in a whisper to himself. His eyes were on the steel ship in the harbour.

Looking past the ship farther out in the ocean, he sees more of these steel ships. “A blockade? No. It's too close, must just be a show of force.” 

“Come on girl. Hiyah!” tisk tisk The horse moves at a trot towards the harbour. Getting closer, the City Watch notices him and lets him pass. Presuming he has been ordered to come here by the Lord Commander. 

“Halt!” Captain Richard ordered the unknown rider, “Stop your horse, Now!” Pistol in hand, safety on, for now. The Marines were ready for anything, lined up in defensive positions. All aimed at this… Old man?

“I am unarmed! Strangers of the United States of America!” The old man says as he climbs down the horse. He was 20 feet away. Reins in hand, he lifts his arms high enough to show no hidden blades to speak of. Still breathing heavily, he then proceeded to introduce himself. “My name” breaths “Is Maester” Breaths “Lorwell! Formerly of House Smallwood!”

“House Smallwood?” Captain Richard says aloud, turning to Kelly. 

“They are Riverland’s noble house sworn to House Tully,” Kelly acknowledged. 

“Very well. Come forward slowly!” Captain Richard orders, he and the Marines watch as this “Maester” walks slowly towards them. The horse's hoofs clicked with each step.

“First thing first, please state your business.” The Captain asked the old man. Deciding to put his pistol away in his hip.

The maester studied these strange clothes. “My name is Lorwell of House Smallwood, as I said before. I am maester of the Citadel. I have come to see if the rumors I have been hearing from my servants were true.” He looks up at the strange ship, “And it seems that they are indeed true.”

“Stand down you guys,” The Captain says, placing a hand on one of the Marines's rifles, “He seems harmless.”

“Why thank You, my Lord.” The Maester says, bowing. His chain jingling, and cleaning in the sunshine. Lifting himself, he sees that there are more than just men in front of him, but women too. Women bannermen, bannerwomen? Now, that was a sight to see. Another thing of note is that they all seemed to be. Laughing? 

“My Lord? Did I say something funny?” Asked Lorwell, afraid that he somehow offended these strangers.

“Ha Ha. No no, you're fine. It’s just that it's the second time I’ve been called a lord today. It’s pretty funny, to be honest.” The Captain said, still chuckling with the Marines next to him, much to the confusion of the Rivermen Maester. For him, this man clearly led his own bannermen, which means he should be a Lord or at least an anointed knight, so why was he surprised at being called a Lord?

“Please forgive me Maester. I am simply Captain Richard Webb, of the USS Savannah. But you can call me Captain Richard, Captain Webb, just Captain, or simply Sir. Please.” He says reaching for a handshake.

“Oh, well it is a pleasure to meet you. My Lor-” he stops for a moment, “I mean Captain Richard .” The Maester reaches for the Captain's hand and shakes firmly. 

cough cough

Looking to his right, “Oh! Forgive me. This is Ambassador Kelly O’Connor.” The Captain gestures to the woman next to him. A very beautiful-looking woman, the maester thinks. She looks almost like a Tully.

“Yes, and just like Captain Webb here, I’m not a Lady, so you can just call me Kelly.” The ambassador says, reaching for a handshake. Taking her hand and bowing to kiss it.

“Lady Kelly, it is an absolute pleasure of my life to meet new, hopefully, friends of the realm.” He says straightening himself up. “And might I ask. Who are these men and… Women?” Looking at the bannermen, or at least what he believes them to be, wearing green garments.

“These proud men and women are United States Marines, the best fighting force of our country bar none.” The Captain says with pride to show off. Even only just a little. He gestures for them to relax. “So Maester. How can we help you? Did the Lord Commander send you?”

“No no. I had asked him, but…”  The words hung in the air. “But he is a busy man. He had me send a raven to Casterly Rock for Lord Tywin. After that, well…I decided to see you people all for myself. And I must say, you made quite a spectacle. Especially to the smallfolks.” The Maester says, looking over to the market, once and a while on-lookers would just stare at them and then go about their day. 

“Yes, we’ve noticed that. But hey. What can you do about it?” The Captain shrugs.

“Maester Lorwell,” Kelly chimed in, “As newcomers, we would like to know more about this kingdom and its people, unbiasedly. Do you think you could assist in that regard?”

“Why I could certainly do my best, Lady Kelly.” The Maester takes out a cloth and pats his sweaty forehead. “Forgive me, it is a hot day in this long summer.” But it is only 80 degrees Fahrenheit.

“It is alright Maester. We could talk onboard the ship if you like?” Kelly says as she gestures to the massive ship next to them. Unsurprisingly, the Maester’s face showed shock, surprise, and joy at the idea of seeing such a wonder.

“Lady Kelly? Are you sure that would be alright?” He said a bit unsure. Her smile seemed to calm him down, “Well, I don’t see why not, the Gods have been very kind today.” 

Captain Richard decided to stay behind and supervise outside. Assigning a Marine to take care of the Maester’s horse.

Kelly and Maester Lorwell went up the ramp into the USS Savannah. Entering the hull of the ship, the Maester notices the air is colder than outside. Asking about it Kelly gives a simplified explanation of something called “Air Conditioning”. A device that can change the temperature of a room in minutes. The area they entered was the equivalent of a cargo hold on a wooden ship, but this one was massive, holding such strange things, metal boxes on wheels, which are referred to as “Cars.” 

“So these… “Cars” allow you to travel to faraway places even faster than galloping horses? How did that even work?” wondered the Maester.

“To put it simply, it was powered by a combustion engine fueled by resources that can be found beneath the Earth…but we’ll get to that later. First thing first.”  

Kelly leads the Maester to a furnished area. A simple metal table and chairs. Gesturing for him to sit, she grabs two bottles of water from a stainless steel cooler and hands it to him. They are ice cold as if they were made from melted Northern snow and ice. 

“How is this water cold, my lady?” He says as he copies her motion of twisting the top. Crack He takes a drink of this ice-cold water, it makes his teeth nerves react.

It was some of the cleanest water he had ever had the privilege to touch his lips. Looking at the bottle, there's writing on the side, “Glaceau Smartwater.” Its writing is strange, too precise to be made by hand. Just who are these people? 

“Lady Kelly, what is it you would like to know about the Seven Kingdoms?”

She finished a drink of water, “Can you tell me about Lord Tywin Lannister?”

USS Savannah, 8:30 am, November 3rd, 2025

“So, basically the kingdom has been more or less at peace for the last 17 years since King Robert came to power?” Kelly questioned, leaning in with great interest. Reading was one thing, but hearing it from someone who actually lived through it was another. 

“Indeed, other than the Greyjoy Rebellion, which was less than a war and more of a spat of some angry pirate lord wanting to be a king, gods damned his drowned soul, Balon. And what did it cost him? Death of his two sons, and his third? Taken as hostage to become ward for Lord Eddard Stark in the North. Leaving him with only a girl as the real option for his heir. Folly, absolute folly, I say.” The Maester had just finished his second “Bottled Water”, he had been talking non-stop, he could get used to this clean water that they brought with them. 

The Riverman was just about to open his third when one of the “US Marines”, he had learned what they were called, apparently because of their…Corps were established as a ship-boarding force during the founding era of their realm before being reformed as an elite expeditionary force, which came to both of them in a hurry.

“Ma’am” the female Marine looks to him, “Sir” and looks back to Kelly. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but the Lord Commander is riding back here with 3 others. And he doesn’t seem happy. Best you two come outside.”

“Oh boy, do you think he’s mad about the Maester?” Kelly says, rising from her chair. “We don’t mean to cause an international incident.”

He is still getting used to the way the Ambassador speaks and her strange words. “Well Lady Kelly, the message from Lord Tywin must have come back. And noticing me not there to receive it must have sent him into some notion of me being here. And the formation of your ships so close to us, the Lords must think it's a blockade.” 

“I guess we’ll just have to explain things to him. Won’t we?” She retorts with a smile.

USS Savannah, 8:33 am, November 3rd, 2025

“Captain Richard!” The Lord Commander yells from his horse. Two city watchmen at his side, swords in hand. “Why have you blockaded the city, and why have you kidnapped Maester Lorwell? Answer! Bastard!”

The Captain's sidearm, an M18 MHS, was out from its holster but not yet pointing at the Lord Commander. 

The Marines on the other hand? It was a different story. 

“Lord Commander, we have not kidnapped your Maester! He came here of his own free will. He did not have to go inside the Savannah, but he did! So would you please tell your men to stand down? And for you to come off your horse so we can talk like civilized men?”

Hearing it, the Lord Commander's face immediately went red with anger, “You dare to give me commands? A Lannister? You? A peasant, a foreign bastard! I will have you and your men's heads on spikes if the Maester does not come out now! Unharmed!”

Richard put his sidearm safety off. But before he could respond, an older shouting voice came from behind him. 

“My Lord, please! Everything that the Captain says, it is true!” The Maester came running down to stop the potential fight, “I came down of my own will, to see the strangers with my own eyes. You would not escort me. As for the blockade, it is simply for their own protection. Not to prevent ships and traders from entering the Lannisport.” The Maester said as he walked slowly to the Lord Commander, “Please, Torren, sheath your steel for the sake of the city and all of us.”

Looking from the Maester, a man who practically raised him, to the strangers, then back. With a sigh, he finally responded, 

“Stand down men of the Watch.” Shink, Shink, Shink , noises of swords being sheathed filled the air 

Lord Commander Torren dismounted his horse and moved to the Maester. “I am sorry Maester Lorwell, I misjudged.” Looking to the strangers, “And to you, Captain Richard, please forgive me for the things I have said. Even if it was a misunderstanding, it was simply unbecoming for me to say that.”

Looking at Kelly, she gives a subtle nod. “Alright. Stand down.” The Captain says as he puts his sidearm on safety. The Marines lower their rifles, again. “All is forgiven, Now why did you come racing down here all “gung ho "?"

Both the Maester and Lord Commander were confused with the term, “Pardon me, Captain Richard, but what does “gung ho” mean? I’ve never heard that word before. It sounds like Yi Tish language.” the Maester asked.

“It means eager, but that's not important right now.  Kelly gave a very short answer. “Why come racing down?” The three watched as the Lord Commander took from a pocket two rolled parchments. One was a Black Wax seal that was broken, and the other was a bright Green Wax seal, unbroken. Kelly had not known anything about specially colored wax seals. “What do the colors mean Maester Lorwell?” Looking to him for an answer.

The Maester cleared his throat, “The Black Wax means urgent matters, and the Green is for diplomatic matters. Lord Commander Torren, what did the Black one say?”

“It was an instruction from my lord father, Lord Tyran Lannister, and Lord Tywin Lannister. They commanded me to come here with the Maester and read the contents of the Black Wax sealed parchment. It contains the reply to the message I sent about the strangers from the “United States of America” for you to read aloud.” The Lord Commander says, giving the Green Wax Sealed parchment to the Maester.

Taking the parchment, he breaks the seal. cough cough

“ To the envoys of the United States of America

We welcome you to Westeros, but before we have these talks you speak of. We command you to remove the blockade of Lannisport and move the ships one league out into the Sunset Sea. If you do not, under the name of King Robert of the House Baratheon, the first of his name. King of the Andals, and the Rhoynars, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realms laws, your blockade will be considered a Declaration of War against the Seven Kingdoms.  

- Lord Tywin Lannister, Warden of the West ” 

Silence fell upon the pier once Maester Lorwell finished the message. 

“Welp” Captain Richard broke the silence, “See, I knew he would be pissed. The guy clearly has an ego that rivals the size of his own mountain.” looking at Kelly with a face screaming, “I told you so,” before adding on, “So what do we do now?”.

“We throw the lion a bone. Do you have any drones that could reach Casterly Rock onboard? And that can hold things, such as a message?” Kelly asks, with what seems to be a glimmer in her eyes.

Captain Richard ponders for a moment, thinking about all the supplies onboard the USS Savannah. “We do have one, the problem is that it's too big to go on the balcony up there. The thrust from the blades in a confined space would not be good for both the drone and message. Not to mention that it could potentially hurt someone, which would be disastrous for our diplomatic outreach..”

“Captain Richard. Lady Kelly. I have a suggestion.” The Lord Commander chimes in, much calmer than before, “At the top of Casterly Rock, there's a massive grass courtyard used for sword training and events. You could send this… “Drone” there. Would that work?”

“I think that could work, Lord Commander.” The Captain gives a subtle nod to Kelly. Walks over to the finished canopy, grabs a radio off a table, and talks into it to update them on the current developments.

“Could one of you get me a pen and paper with an envelope please?” Kelly asked one of the Marines before turning to the Maester and Lord Commander, “So how big is this courtyard?”

15 Minutes Later…

The Captains of the carrier battle group were the first ones that Captain Richard called informing them of the plan and the conditions. They were simple, just move the ships back 3 miles. And a drone would be sent to deliver a message handwritten by Kelly herself. Then once they had written their reply they put it in a box on top of the drone and flew it back down.

The drone operator and the controls are to be set up underneath the canopy. Mainly so both the Maester and Lord Commander can be witnesses in the drone operation to prevent more misunderstanding. Needless to say, the drone in question was a very interesting contraption to the two Westerosi.It looked almost like a dog, but all of these… sticks were sticking out of its back. Six of them to be exact. Each end had what seemed to be fins, like the ones on fish, which when explained were called “Propeller Blades” and they cut through the air lifting it to fly to the sky. 

“Fly? Like a bird or dragon? Surely you must be jesting, Captain Richard.” The Lord Commander almost scoffed at the idea understandably.

“No, we are not Lord Commander, this will be what we use to send our message to Lord Tywin.” answered Kelly firmly.

“That’s why you called it after a male bee? But from my days of studying at the Citadel, I have never read any books that said it was possible to make something fly the way you described.” The Maester skeptically asked.

“Then I suggest taking the notes from what we are doing, and trust when we say that you’re going to write a lot of notes, as this is only the beginning of what will come.” answers the Captain somewhat cryptically much to the Maester and Lord Commander’s confusion.

The material of which it was made out of very much puzzled the Maester, when questioned one of the “Drone Mechanics” took a piece off. Which scared the Maester, he thought he just watched the animal be skinned. The “Mechanics” simply laughed at the idea.

The material was called “Carbon Fiber,” the… “Mechanics,” these Americans always come up with strange terms, explaining it as a super light fabric material, stronger than steel, he claimed. This Fabric had been painted a bright orange, so it could be seen more easily during the day. Which alone was strange. “Fabric stronger than steel?” The Lord Commander Laughed at that, but the “Mechanic” was willing to demonstrate but there was no time. Kelly was ready with the reply for Lord Tywin.

“Alright, everyone. Please stand clear of the drone.” Captain Richard called, “Lord Commander, please tell your men to move as well on the other side,” he said pointing to the few guards opposite of them. The Lord Commander waved for them to move back.

As all of this was going on, the city market across from the pier was starting to form a crowd of onlookers. Farmers looking to sell their goods, Mothers with newborn babies in their arms, orphans, children, fishermen, merchants, city watchmen, and even begging brothers. People from all walks of life, they are all watching.

With the area around the drone being cleared off, the operator started the final inspection. After the inspections were done, the Drone finally came to life, emitting strange buzzing noises like a hive of wasps were just disrupted. Its lights also began to blink. The Captain patted the operator's shoulder, giving the go-ahead.

“Drone takeoff in. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. Take off”

Air rushed all around it, flapping cloaks, scattering dust. It was astonishing.

bbbzzzzzzzzzzzz  

The drone lifted slowly, then flew higher and higher and higher. Not too long, it was already 10 feet off the ground, it was a sight to behold. The drone turned in the direction of Casterly Rock.

zzzzzzz ZZZZZZZZ—  

It finally launched, the first flier in Westeros after the extinction of the dragons finally flew, and in just few seconds, gone in a few blinks of an eye.  

“I-it is true! I-it really can fly!” The Lord Commander practically jumped at the display that he didn’t believe was possible minutes earlier. “Maester, am I really not drunk again as of this moment?”

“Y-yes Torren, you’re not drunk now. But…how was that possible!? No man has ever commanded something to fly since the era of the dragons!” The Maester asked. 

The “Drone” then disappeared right before his eyes. Turning into a small orange dot, heading for Casterly Rock. Unsurprisingly, screams of surprise came from every Westerosi who sees the flier. Even louder from the Market. Children scream with joy thinking that the stories of old are coming true once again.

Many watchers began to pray, whether it be The Seven, or for a few Northmen in the city,to The Old Gods. What they just witnessed was something out of stories.

“It seems the crowd liked it. But there will actually be more to come. Right?” Richard says to Kelly, eyes on the marketplace. “Oh yeah, definitely,” She replies.

“So. What did you write for our old lion friend? In the letter I mean?” He questioned her. 

She gave him a smirk, “Oh. You know, simply an appropriate response for a man like him.”

Casterly Rock, Lions Field, 9:05 am, July 26th, 298 After Aegon's Conquest

The Courtyard of Casterly Rock, also known as the Lion’s Field. Was a massive plot of grass, imported from the early days of the castle's construction. More specifically the region of the former Reach Kingdom of old. The Field was 125 Yards long and 60 Yards wide. The main use of the Lion’s Field is for sword training, horse riding, archery practice, feasts, weddings, and other important events. 

It has been a few years since such things like that have happened here sadly, but Lord Tywin has commanded that the Lion’s Field be kept, “A Lion keeps its fur groomed” he would always say when asked. 

At this moment, two Lannister household guards were patrolling the Lion’s Field. Always two, no less. To keep their minds occupied, and to not get bored a bard would be rotated out every few hours to keep the guards company. At this moment, the bard, a man from Braavos, was tuning his Lute for another song.

“Ay! Braavosi! Play “The Dornishman’s Wife” would ya! I'll give you a stag to play it extra special!”

“Cough up the stag first,” The stout man said with a strong accent. “Then I shall play you the song!” He watched as the Lannister Guard reached into his pocket and flung a piece of silver at him, catching it and examining the piece. The face of Robert I Baratheon, the tails a silver stag. “Thank you, My Lord.” He said with a bow even though they weren’t “Lords” calling them that made them want to pay him more. Cough cough He cleared his throat to begin the song.

The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun,

and her kisses were warmer than spring.

But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel,

and its kiss was a terrible thing.

The bard began to dance around the guards, doing what they paid for. Exaggerated moves. Bounding steps with each cord.

The Dornishman's wife would sing as she bathed,

in a voice that was sweet as a peach,

But the Dornishman's blade had a song of its own,

and a bite sharp… and cold.. as… a… leech…

Bbbzzzzzzzzzzz

Suddenly, a strange noise, like the sound of bees, distracted the bard. Each time he would try to start and sing again it would return.It was getting so loud even the Lannister guards were hearing it. 

“What in the seven hells is that noise?” one asked, looking around. “As if I know.” The other said, looking into the grass, then at the bard.

“You have anything to do with this, Braavosi?” He questioned the bard from Braavos. Looking along with the guards, “Of course not my lord, I do not have the power to create such a noise” he said, shrugging. The bard's fine blue and gold clothes stand out in the yard.

“Up there! Look at the sky!” The guard farthest from the two said, pointing his spear in the sky. 

Matching his gaze, they see something small up in the sky. Maybe 40 - 50 feet. Bright and orange as… Well, an Orange. It hangs in the sky like a chandelier, lights like candles in six places, but not of yellow. They were red and green, as vibrant as the orange. 

“By the Seven! It’s coming right towards us!” The guard next to the Braavosi yelled, readying his spear to attack. All three watched as this… strange flying chandelier slowly lowered to the ground, blowing air and dirt around.

As if it was watching them in bemusement, it didn't attack the people in the Lions Field. Then it landed softly on the grass. The wasp noise stopped abruptly, and so did the gusts of air. 

“You there! Go get Lord Tywin! He will need to know about this.” Yelling at the farthest guard giving him a nod, he makes his way to the nearest door. 

Slowly, both the bard and Lannister Guard proceeded cautiously towards what they presumed to be the front of the “chandelier.” Hanging to the edge of this strange contraption was a lens, like you would find on a Myrish Eye, but it was odd-looking.

VVVVVVV vvvvv  

The lens suddenly moves! Startled, the bard falls back on his arse. Wanting to run away from it, but he feels this “eye” looking at him. Studying him. It moved to the Lannister Guard nearby, and it did startle him, but not as much as the bard.

“Wh-wh-what kind of flying demon are you? S-state your business if you can speak!” The guard composes himself and points the end of his spear at the thing. But it says nothing. He asks again. Still nothing. Moving the spear closer to poke at it. The “eye” moved side to side. The universal sign for “No”

“Hmm? It seems to understand you, Westerosi. I think.” The bard says, standing up and brushing himself off. “I wonder what it wants?”

As if answering him, the “thing” makes more noises. But from a box on its “back,” if you could call it that. This box is about the size of a jewelry box the high ladies would have to keep all their gems and other expensive accessories. The lid slowly opens to reveal writing on its underside.

“Message for Lord Tywin” was written underneath.

Chapter Text

“A brave man is a man who dares to look the Devil in the face and tell him he is a Devil.”

-James A. Garfield

Casterly Rock, Lions Field, 9:15 am, July 26th, 298 After Aegon's Conquest

Lord Tywin, Ser Kevan, and Lord Tyran came escorted by a handful of Lannister red-cloak guards, ready for a fight. The young Maester Creylen followed not too far behind. The lone Lannister Guard stiffened at the sight of the High Lord, and the bard just stood there, Lute in hand. Understandably, due to its infamy, The Rains of Castamere has reached even as far as Braavos.

“So… Where is this strange flying… “Chandelier,” you came running to us about, which made you leave your post.” Lord Tywin questioned, with steel in each word.

“My lord, there. Right behind the Braavosi,” The guard who left earlier said, pointing to the bard. Realizing who they were talking about. The bard moved to the left just enough for them to see it.

With a low gasp, “Gods be good! What is it?” Lord Tyran said, walking towards it before being stopped by another guard for his safety.

“My Lord,” giving a bow of his head, “It says there is a message for you underneath the lid of the box on top. “It,” The guard close to the bard says, pointing to what he referred to as “It.”

Lord Tywin then gestures for the guards to spread their formation around “it.” Walking towards “it,” He sees what the guard is speaking of. “Message for Lord Tywin” was written underneath the box lid. Moving closer, he saw what looked like an “eye” move, watching his every step. Looking inside the box, there was a piece of paper. White a snow. 

Reaching and picking up the paper, he was surprised by its quality, it feels smooth and satisfying to touch, just like a wet stone. Examining it further reveals that it's a type of container holding what can only be the message. The opening is closed by a blue wax seal. Stamped on it is a flag, with stars in the top left corner and stripes along the rest. This must be the flag of the United States of America.

The wax seal was broken with a crack , letting Lord Tywin retrieve the message. Opening the folded papers to their original dimensions, he read. Ser Kevan and Lord Tyran moved to his vicinity. “My Lord, what does it say?” Ser Kevan questioned his brother, still reading the message.

Finishing the message, Lord Tywin handed it to his brother with a hard expression, “Read it aloud, Kevan.”

Doing as he was commanded, Cough Cough , Ser Kevan cleared his throat and read aloud for both him and Lord Tyran.

“To Lord Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport, Warden of the West

My name is Kelly O’Conner, the Ambassador for the United States of America. I first want to express my utmost apologies for our ships coming off as an “aggressive” action. We placed them this close to your port for the protection of the delegation, I am sure you can understand our reasoning. On behalf of our country, we wish to extend our hands of friendship on good terms, but you seem to, as your house may put it, “roar” at the idea of it. But for now, we will look past it. 

As you can see in front of you, our people have the ability to transport things from one place to another via air. But make no mistake, this drone is merely a small fragment of what we could do, a small dip of water in the middle of the ocean. With this in mind, here is what we propose. We will come with two of what we call “Helicopters” to this field and pick you up, along with the entourage of your choosing. And of course to carry luggage, trading examples, and whatnot. 

If all goes well, the helicopters will arrive a little before noon to pick up your party and bring you to us. And then we can start the talks immediately. Please put your written reply back in the box.

One more thing. The last time a country chose war instead of peace. Well, that country no longer exists. After all, people at Lannisport had sung to us that you’re not a stranger to something like that.

From Kelly O’Conner, Ambassador of the United States of America”

The Lions Field fell silent as the grave, all except for the soft wind and footsteps of Lord Tywin on the grass. He was pacing back and forth, occasionally looking at the “Drone”. All the while, the front piece of it moves with him, watching. Back and forth. Back and forth.

“T-this is an outrage! They dare threaten us?” Lord Tyran said angrily, his earlier cravenous behavior faded and was replaced by the feeling of indignation now that the Lannister pride was on the line. 

“Lord Tywin, I care not how fancy their ships are like. I say we call the banners and serve this Ambassador and her men with fire and steel at once. Even if we died, then we would at least die with our honor intact.” Tyran’s last sentiment was actually shared by Tywin when he wrote the reply earlier. If a lion has to die, then he would have to face his doom with a roar of defiance. 

After all, Tywin had sworn to not let the Lannisters become a laughingstock ever again . That means if the downfall of his family is inevitable, then they would go out in such gallant defiance that the enemy wouldn’t dare to spit and laugh at their corpse.

“Then what would stop them from razing the Westerlands to the ground? What would that make to our dignity as the Great House of the Westerlands if we just leave our subjects to die?” And Kevan has just voiced the same thought that Tywin had that made him reconsider that intention.

“No, what we need to do is call in our fleet. I know that it has seen better days since the Greyjoy raids, but I believe that then we can still try to intimidate them by numbers. That way we can have an equal footing in negotiations.” Ser Kevan suggested looking at his brother.

“We will do nothing of the sort,” Lord Tywin tells them, looking back at the glass piece on the Drone. Studying it. “If my hunch is correct, it wouldn’t matter what we do, they would be able to see it through anyway. Besides, they're listening to us right now. Aren't you, Lady O’Conner?”

“W-what are you talking about,Tywin?” Kevan asked before the piece of glass nodded, answering the Lord Paramount and his brother. Proving the former’s suspicion and the latter’s shock.

“No way…” Tyran voiced the same shock as Kevan.

Fair play, my lady. Fair play indeed. Guess I'm underestimating you. Lord Tywin thinks to himself. Almost smirking while looking at the Drone. Turning away from the drone and walking towards his brother and cousin. 

“Maester Creylen, get me more parchment, ink and quill, a desk with a chair, and seal wax. Get as many guards as you need to help you and bring it all here.” He commands the young Maester. Bowing, he leaves with a few guards.

“My Lord? What do you plan to do?” Ser Kevan says, surprised at the level of calmness his brother is at. If this had been some bannerman, or a Lord from a different part of The Seven Kingdoms, he would be quite insulted and most likely has ordered him to call the banners. But this action he currently undertook was different, it was calculative, and patient. Just who are these people to be able to make even Tywin to tread carefully like that? .

As if Tywin can read his brother’s mind, he responds to Kevan.

“Yes Kevan, I am also wondering what these newcomers really are. What I plan to do is buy us some time and gather as much information about this “United States of America” and see their military capabilities. It was obvious that they cannot be underestimated. Judging by this… “drone” and saying that they have bigger ones raises a question. Why show such power? And Why show it now? ” 

20 Minutes pass

Kelly, Captain Richard, Maester Lorwell, and Lord Commander Torren watch the monitor screen showing live footage from the drone. 

“How are we seeing this again? Radyo Frigwiney? Is that how you called it?” The Lord Commander asked. Still confused by the strange words spoken to him.

“It's pronounced “Radio Frequency” and yes you are correct. There's something called an antenna hooked up to the drone that then sends footage Live from its camera down here to us.” The drone operator explains. “And that's how we control them as well. These control sticks are in direct contact with the drone. Allow me to maneuver it.” He gestures to the strange sticks and knobs in front of him. 

“Very strange”, the Lord Commander says, as he scratches his head. Maester Lorwell, on the other hand, has another implication in his mind.

The Riverlander Maester is wondering, with this American communication marvel, would the raven system that the Maesters depended on for more than millennia finally be rendered irrelevant? And as a Maester himself, it was certainly something that Lorwell needed to think about. 

“Oh, it looks like they're moving again.” The operator says, intently watching the monitor. Making small adjustments to the “Camera” to capture the scene in front of them.

On the monitor, it shows about 15 men, including the “Big Three” of Westerlands, Lord Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock, and his brother Ser Kevan Lannister. And the Lord Commander's Father, Lord Tyran Lannister of Lannisport, who by the looks of him seems like the type of guy you would find at an outdoor car show. Mid-fifties, on the heavy side, a small mustache. 

If you were to replace his fancy clothes with white New Balance Shoes, long white socks, cargo shorts, a shirt that has a picture of Dale Earnhardt, wearing a black hat imprinted with the number “3”, he would look like your stereotypical Midwestern dad.

On-screen now was the Maester Creylen ushering in the red cloaked guards, carrying a table with chairs. And a few small things that couldn’t be seen on screen. But presumably writing tools. 

As the Westerosi were watching the screen, Kelly and Captain Richard were to the side, keeping composure. A calm face, if you will, once in a while looking at each other, then back at the screen, as the men on the other side set up this table. 

They might look calm on the outside by necessity of decency. But their thoughts couldn't be more different.

“Holy shit! He looks exactly like Charles fucking Dance! Ha Ha!! I can't believe it. Oh, man, this is amazing!” Kelly was practically screaming to herself. The fact that, besides the few obvious differences, being that he was bald with big, blond Lannister-like sideburns. He looks the same as the English actor.

Even Ser Kevan looked like his show actor. She couldn’t think of his name because of the excitement. “This could mean that the others look just like the show actors. Ned Stark, Jon Snow, Sansa Stark, Arya Stark, Margaery and Olenna Tyrell, Daenerys Targaryen. Every single one of them!”

She became a bit concerned about that thought. “If they all look like the actors, then so will Tyrion, Khal Drogo, and Oberyn Martell, and we all know how much of a celebrity their actors are.” This was something she would have to think about later on. But it gives great concern on how to handle them. If at all.

“Captain. Ma’am. Looks like Lord Tywin is writing his reply now.” The drone operator says to get their attention. 

They look at the monitor as Lord Tywin takes his seat and begins to write. Quill in hand, moving from ink pot to parchment, then back again. Doing this for not even five minutes. When finished, he lets the parchment dry, folds, and stamps with his wax seal.

 “Huh. I thought he would have written more?” Captain Richard chimed in. Either he was a quick writer or he had very little to say. The latter is what concerned Kelly. He was not a man of few words, but he spoke with meaning, with purpose. His words were like the heavy slash of a sword. 

But hers? Hers had to be like shots from a rifle . Precise but with maximum effect.

The group watched as Lord Tywin handed the parchment letter to a guard and instructed him to put it back in the box.

Once the message was put back, the drone operator clicked a button to close the lid. Startling the guard just enough for him to take 5 steps back. 

“Alright. Take off in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.” At one, the operator maneuvered the controls, starting the drone and lifting it on its way back to them. The Lions Field became smaller and smaller. Making the group of men look like dolls you would see across the room. 

“The drone must be coming back.” A Marine said, standing several feet away from the canopy, accompanied by City Watchmen. 

“So tell me.” A Watchman asked, trying to strike up a conversation. “Why did you join the…” He thought for a moment, “What did you call it again? “The something-Corps?” He said with a hint of confusion.

“The Marine Corps? Well… It depends on who you ask. For me, I joined for free college. The Marine Corps wasn't my first choice. Originally I was going to join the Army, but the recruiter wasn't there. I think he was on his lunch break. And it just so happened that the Marine recruiter was there.” The Marine explained as simply as possible. As he did, two other watchmen wandered over to listen. Same with the other Marine. 

“We chatted for a while, and the next thing I knew I was on the bus from the airport heading to Parris Island, South Carolina. Ha Ha Ha Ha.” The Marine said cheerfully.

“I’m not really sure what you just talked about, but that’s okay.” The watchman replies, equally cheerful.

“And what about you?” The Marine asked the Watchmen. “Why join the City Watch?”

“Well, what can I say, a hot meal every day and a roof over me head is something we can’t refuse.” He said, scratching his 5 o’clock shadow. 

“I see. We’ve had guys from all across our country join for reasons like that. From bad home life, to keeping themselves from selling drugs on a corner. You could ask any of us, and it will be a mixed answer” The Marine began to list them off his fingers. 

“Patriotism, good pay, an interesting career, free education, no place else to go, or simply a hunger for thrill and adventure. You name it. And that's just what I know of, it all depends on each individual.”

The watchmen nod their heads in trying to understand, “How much do you get paid? If I may ask.” Another said. He was missing a few teeth.

Looking over to his fellow Marine for some sort of approval. Shrugging, he decided to tell them. “In our currency? About $1,940 each month.”

Their faces showed visible shock, “Wow, I have no idea what those numbers mean, but that sounds a lot! We are merely paid 9 Silver Stag every other fortnight.” He says, showing a very toothy mouth.

“May we sign up for your military?” Another asked, face full of brown beard. His yellow teeth sticking out. 

“Well, if you want to swear an oath of fealty to our country, then be my guest.” One of the Marines japed, which earns the laugh of the Watchmen and the other Marines.

“But, there are some requirements that you must meet. Plus, I think there's a process for foreigners to even be considered to join up.” A female Marine said, trying not to douse out their hopes.

“Meh, strong lads like us are always needed. I believe we could meet those requirements. I mean, how hard could that be if they even let you join in?” The toothy one said, looking at her with a strange, almost mocking grin. 

“W-what the…? Are you talking about me?” Asked the female Marine in incredulity.

“Yes. I can always spot a good-looking wench from leagues away, even if they are dressed like a man.” He looked her up and down like a piece of meat. He did have a thing for fiery Dornish women after a few interactions with their traders and whores who routinely visited the city, and she was close enough to look like one, with a matching attitude to boot. 

“Wait wait wait, hold on your horses, she’s really a woman?” Asked the watchmen with a brown beard to the toothy one. “I thought she’s just a young man with a high voice. Holy hells, and I think that the Dorne is already queer enough.” He then turned his attention to the female Marine.

“So… are both men and women allowed to join your Corps equally? Or is it simply some sort of “special treatment” for high lords to “let” their excess daughter to go fight instead of being betrothed for marriage?” The bearded watchmen asked her.

Taken by surprise at what feels like a degrading comment, the Marine decides to go in on this smelling pile of walking shit. “Firstly, any United States citizen is allowed to serve their country regardless of what is in their crotch. No one gets special treatment, especially in The Corps.” She could feel her face getting red by the minute. 

“I joined not because I was just some excess waste to my familia got it” Her Spanish was starting to come out in bits and pieces, “No, I joined with my own free will to honor my abuelo for his sacrifice at Iwo Jima over 80 years ago, you Pendejo !” 

Both the toothy man and bearded man's face showed confusion to her strange confrontational words, the former likes Dornish women’s temperamental attitudes… but not to this extent.

To make her opinion crystal clear, she then went up to the man's face, “Besides, I don't think you would even qualify for latrine duty.”

Now it was the watchmen’s turn to be red in the face, “What makes you so special? Ay?”

She takes a step back to get away from smelling the man's rancid breath. “Simple, the two of the qualifications are being able to read and write. Which I don’t think you all could.”

Now this was another shock to the Watchmen, having the ability to read and write was only reserved for the Maesters or Lords and Ladies of prominent families. If what she is saying is true, that she is not of high birth and that means their own smallfolks are somehow able to get access to those expensive books that are so zealously guarded by the Maesters and lords. 

The toothy one then looked at the other Marine, “H-how many of you can read and write?” His voice was almost trembling.

“Most of us can actually, everyone is taught at the age of 5 to 6, and they also have access to Public Schooling. And if we can pay for it, Private School. I have a niece that learned to read at 4, and write at 6 in Private School.” the Marine said bluntly.

This left the three Watchmen stunned, their mouths gaped and eyes wide. “Wow, these Americans are crazy.” the bearded watchmen exclaimed as he and others rendered almost speechless.

With this new knowledge in hand, the watchmen wanted to ask more and more questions, surrounding the two Marines. Their eagerness gets other watchmen's curiosity to grow. Both of them felt overwhelmed with the barrage of questions being asked.

Overhearing the commotion, Captain Richard walks over to see this developing situation of Marines and City Watchmen in conversation. If you could call it conversations, for the Marines, it looked more like they were the ones being interrogated by the Watchmen. Not with normal methods, but with their smell. Some of them smell like they sleep in stables, and considering the kind of place Westeros is, it’s very likely the possibility.

“Showers. These guys really need showers.” He noted to himself.

“Everything alright here, you guys?” He questioned them before someone fell into the water. One of the Marines looked with relief with a face that was just screaming. “HELP!”

“They were just asking about being in the Corps. Sir.” The other said with a salute. “With great enthusiasm.” The female Marine said.

bbbbbbzzzzzzzzzzzzz

He wanted to question them a bit more, but the drone was over their heads. “Alright, move out of its way!” He ordered moving his arms to clear the area.

The two Marines and the three Watchmen rush out of its way. Clearing the landing area. Kelly, Maester Lorwell, and Lord Commander Torren step from underneath the canopy to watch the drone slowly land in its original spot.

Setting down on the hastily painted “H” landing zone on the stone pier. The wind from the blades threw dust all around. The noise of its motors going silent as the drone operator flicks the final switch, killing power to them. 

With another push of a button, the fitted box on the drone opens. Revealing the reply message from Lord Tywin Lannister. The suspense hung in the air like incense in a small room. There was no cheer of excitement or scream of fear from the Market nearby. They just watched. 

Since Captain Richard was the closest, he went over to the drone and took out the neatly rolled message. Green seal wax, with a pressed lion of House Lannister on the fold. The parchment felt nice like the skin of a drum in the Captain’s hand.

“Well?” Kelly said just a few feet away. She was leaning on her left hip, arms crossed.

“Well, what?” Captain Richard was now confused about what she was asking.

“Well, aren't you going to crack it open and read it? Or do you want me to do it?” She gestures to herself.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” He says, snapping the seal wax and unraveling the message. He has to bend it a few times to keep it from wanting to roll up again. 

Looking down at the written parchment, he begins to read.

“ To the honored envoys of the United States of America

Lady Kelly, of House O’Conner, I presume? A lion does not simply roar at anyone. Perhaps we failed to understand that it is your custom to surround a city with ships to start  “diplomatic talks”. Therefore to respect it, we will oblige with your request to meet. 

Twenty-five in total will be coming with us. We will be sending instructions to Castle Golden Keep to prepare the Castle for our stay. We will be ready for your arrival midday. 

-Lord Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport, Warden of the West”

“Huh. I thought there would be more.” Captain Richard said, looking over at Kelly as she walked over to read the message to herself.

“Well, this does tell us two things,” she said to him while still reading the message. “He knows when to take a hint, but he doesn't know what “Gunboat Diplomacy” is either.”

“Smart move with the ships. Best we get on the horn with the other captains and update them about the situation.”

“Agreed”

Both Captain Richard and Kelly make their way back to the canopy, where a small command hub has been set up. Noticing their movement, the Maester and Lord Commander follow out of curiosity.

“Captain? Lady Kelly? Is everything alright?” Maester Lorwell questions as they join them under the canopy.

“Of course Maester. We are just getting in touch with the Carrier Strike Group. Would you both care to join us?” Kelly offers with a warm smile. 

Looking from Lord Commander Torren back to her, “We would be honored” he says with a bow.

A Navy comm operator was sitting in front of two monitors with a big screen behind it. “Get us in touch with the strike group please,” Kelly tells the operator, with a nod and a few clicks of the keyboard, the big screen showed 6 squares with the names of each ship in the bottom left.

9:50 am

From each Navy vessel, including the Submarine, the XOs inform their Captains of the incoming video call from the envoys. Passing command over to them, the Captains make their way to another room to join the video call.

One by one, the Captains joined the call to a surprising sight. Not two, but 4 people were in front of their screen coming from the first contact ship. The two unrecognizable faces, clearly being native Westerosi, judging by their clothes at least. 

There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments. Before Captain Jesse Frank broke the ice, “Captain, Ambassador Kelly,” he said with a nod to each, “are these two the ones that we were updated about? Maester Lorwell and Lord Commander Torren Lannister?” 

“Yes, Sir, they are indeed.” She then turns toward the Westerosi, “Gentlemen,  are the other captains of the Carrier Strike Group.” Kelly gestures to the screen of Captains, all smiles.

She gave them a short introduction of each Captain to move things along quickly, since they only have two hours and ten minutes until they need to transport Lord Tywin and his group down to them. 

She gestures to the man in robes, “Allow me to introduce Maester Lorwell of the Castle Golden Keep”,  then to the man in gold and red armour, “...and Lord Commander Torren Lannister of Lannisport.” 

It took the two Westerosi a moment to give their greetings, they were still marveling at what was in front of them. 6 heads on a piece of glass, of course with the drone image it was strange. But this was so clear to look at, almost as if the men and women in front of them were right there.

Now there isn't any doubt, these people will finally put ravens to extinction, and as a Maester, I don’t know how to feel about that prospect. Lorwell can only ponder for a brief moment before realizing that he’s now in their audience.  

Cough Cough “Forgive me Lords and…Ladies, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The old Maester says, giving a bow that was quite deeper than normal. As he raised himself he gave the Lord Commander a nudge for him to do the same.

“Uh… Y-yes! Forgive me as well. It is my honor as the Lord Commander of Lannisport City Watch to be in the presence of such fine captains.” startled, he gives a bow of his head. 

“It is our pleasure as well, Lord Commander Torren and Maester Lorwell. We hope that we haven't caused any trouble with our presence here. I am sure that Ambassador Kelly has explained that enough to you.” A screen to the bottom right, names Maria Neumann, Captain of USS San Antonio. 

“O-on the contrary, my Lady, the city has been rejuvenated with life. Haven't seen much activity since the Tourney after the Greyjoy’s Rebellion was squandered many years ago.” The Maester says cheerfully, hoping to please these glass strangers. 

Once introductions were out of the way, the Ambassador, Captain, and the other Captains began to say such strange and fascinating words to each other. At least to Maester Lorwell.

Words as: Contingency, Air Support, Prior-Authorization, F.O.B Area, POTUS 

So many new vocabularies that wrapped around his head in a futile attempt to understand it. 

“I don’t think that even an army of Maesters can decipher these words. As if we can’t be more strangers to their ways of life.” The Maester thought to himself, moving his eyes to Lord Commander Torren to see his reaction to such words. He's showing the same clueless face he has to the contraption in front of him.

“We have the Super Stallions available for high priority personnel, and an Osprey for luggage they bring with them. We can use two of them if needed, for the supporting aircraft, the best would be the Viper attack helicopter. Two or three would suffice. We can have them ready for take off in an hour and a half.” Cap. Jason Mendez of the USS Makin Island informs them. 

“Will those suffice, Kelly?” Captain James Anderson, the captain of the USS Abraham Lincoln and the commander of the first contact Carrier Strike Group, asks her. Everyone looks to her for an answer, even the two Westeros Natives look out of curiosity.

She wanted to tell them that all of that is overkill, but with the first message from Lord Tywin being seen as a threat. Which is rightfully should be taken as one. Captain James must have gotten a reply from Washington, which explains the overkill ness of the aircraft. “Yes, Captain, they will suffice.” She decided to tell them.

“Good. Everyone else is good to return to their stations. Captain Mendez, you get those birds ready for take off at 1130 Hours. And Kelly, I need a private word with you once everyone else signs off.” Captain James orders

“Yes Sir”

The other Captains make their leave from the video call. Captain Richard looks to the Westerosi, “Alright, let's give the Ambassador and Captain some privacy.” He says, ushering them away. 

“Lady Kelly” Maester Lorwell says with a bow and makes his leave.

“My Lady” Lord Commander Torren politely says, turning with little clicks and clacks of his armor.

“He still doesn't get it. Does he?” Kelly asks Captain Richard, eyebrow raised.

“Nope. Have a good chat.” The Captain says with a smile and walks away.

“Ma’am, you’re good to go.” The Navy Comm Operator turns to her, holding a headset up.

“Thank You, Might be best if you step away as well,” she informs the Operator. The Operator nods, standing from her seat and leaving the headphones in her hand.

Kelly sits and gets comfortable for this talk. With the headset on and snug, she's ready.

“Alright Captain, everything alright?” She looks to the main on the smaller monitor, his face as a stern, serious look to it now. His few wrinkles tighten, for forty-five he looks great.

“The President is pissed, but not surprised at the message. “In character” I believe he said. There are talks about the next move if this meeting breaks down. Best bet if that happens will be to make our way to Oldtown in The Reach and try our hand with the Hightowers and Tyrells. But that is a last resort.”

“There have been some developments while we were away.”

“What kind of developments, Sir?”

“The storage of raw material and metal is not what was originally counted. Turns out, someone somewhere down the ordering line fucked up and gave us less than what we paid for. Mainly Bauxite, Steel, Copper, Aluminum, Nickel, Oil, and a few hundred other things that I don’t have time to name off. On the home front, nearly every factory, mine, refinery has been ordered to double production of what we need. But some of these materials aren’t found here. At least not yet, anyway. There's more talk about reopening old facilities as well.”

“What about the new Territories? Canada and Mexico?”

“Well, we do know that most if not all we need are there. But the problem is, we need three times the machinery we currently have now. And we need the materials I said before to make those machines. With what we have in storage across the country is about half of what we need. And that's not counting all that needs to be allocated for naval repairs and redeployment of the mothball fleet. It’s going to be cut in half with that in mind.”

“That is why we need these discussions to work. We are being backed into a corner. The Space Force and NASA, along with the ISS crew, have been ordered to search the entire continent from above for possible sites of raw materials, but that won't help much without local knowledge. Do you understand what you're being asked? Failure is not an option.”

 Kelly ponders for a moment at the severity of the situation the country is in. And her responsibility here and now. “Yes, Sir, I believe I do.”

“Good. Another thing. The President, Vice-President, and the Joint Chiefs will be listening in on the talks as well from Washington. The President wanted me to let you know, as well as the Captains.”

Kelly chuckles, “Ha, Of course he did. Alright, thank you. We will be getting set up here.”

“Good to hear.” Captain James signs out, leaving only the Navy badge on the screen. Kelly's reflection mirrors though, looking at her. She takes the headphones, tosses them on the table and rubs her eyes.

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” 

2 Hours to pick-up, 1000 Hours, November 3rd, 2025

With the stakes just turned up to fifteen, everything has to be perfect. No,   it must be perfect. From the furniture, all the way to the atmosphere, it must be perfect. With this in mind, Kelly asks for the rest of the two Marine squads on-board the USS Savannah to help with the preparations.

“That's our job, Ma’am.” The young Staff Sergeant said with a smile. With a quick turn and head held high. His voice aged five years, “Alright Devil Dogs, you heard the lady, we have marching orders. So get your lazy asses moving now, Move move!” Kelly watched as these Marines moved like a frenzy of bees.

1 Hour and 30 Minutes to pick-up, 1030 Hours, November 3rd, 2025

The men and women of the Marine Corps worked like their lives depended on it. Including constructing a prefabricated, ornate canopy that was bigger than the original used for the communications and drone control. With the help of Lord Commander Torren Lannister, he acquired four House Lannister banners to be hung from each side of the canopy for all to see. 

The United States flag, “Old Glory” is to be hung as well alongside the Lannister Banner. Side by side, symbolizing the hopes of friendship. Special drinkware, silverware, and dinnerware were originally requested by the Lord Commander and Maester Lorwell to be brought from Castle Golden Keep. Mainly to show the high status of the family. 

But, Kelly insisted that they all used “wares” from the United States. “So they will not have to bring dirty dishes back all the way to the castle”, Kelly claimed, when asked for their reasoning. But every American in the port knows that it was to show off the materials of said “wares”.

Crystal wine cups rimmed with red, Ornate Sterling Silverware with white ornate lines down the shafts, Porcelain dinnerware with blue rimmed metal and much more is to be used. Only the best for a family as prestigious as House Lannister of Casterly Rock. 

A specially ordered ten foot long, oval dining table was chosen by the President himself for this important event. With advice from a certain Senator from Vermont, Maple Wood was chosen for the construction of the dining table. Stained Asbury Brown. The table was finished a day before they left. 

1 Hour to pick-up, 1100 Hours, November 3rd, 2025

For seating arrangements, it would be as follows: The United States delegation on the West side of the table, backs facing The Sunset Sea, and the Lord Paramount delegation on the East side, back facing the rest of the continent. 

Each side would be sitting on fine handmade wooden chairs, soft cushions, smooth arm rests. During the Construction of the bunkers for The Storm, a forgotten storage room was found beneath the US Capitol Building that was built all the way from the 1940s in relatively perfect condition. Further investigations concluded that these chairs were used during the Yalta Conference. Also included with these chairs were documents about how they were flown back from Crimea to the US as goodwill gifts from the Soviet Union not long before the two countries’ relations deteriorated due to the Cold War.

 In the catering department, for someone like Tywin Lannister, only the best of the best that the US has to offer was decided. With that in mind, the “Palette” of a High Lord was decided, the meal would consist of cuisines of various cultures that make up the American people and using ingredients that could be found from throughout the North American continent. With the mix of items that could be deemed as “Exotic” of course. 

30 Minutes pick-up, 1130 Hours, November 3rd, 2025

Further discussion with Lord Commander Torren and Maester Lorwell, with a short lesson on helicopters. Determined that Lord Tywin's party can land right on the pier. A large red “H” has been painted around 40 yards away from the meeting area. The second helicopter behind will then land once the party has exited the first. Luckily, the pier for this busy port city was designed for large numbers of ships to be docked all at once, which incentivized its width.

20 Minutes pick-up, 1140 Hours, November 3rd, 2025, USS Makin Island

The flight deck was a flurry of activity. The flight deck crew of the USS Makin Island running from helicopter to helicopter for final checks. With their colors moving past one another like cars on a highway. Yellow, Green, Red, Purple, Blue, Brown, and White. Every man and woman's years of training are put to the test. 

After much deliberation between the first contact envoy and the convoy captains, the following aircraft have been decided: 1 CH-53E Super Stallion to transport Lord Tywin Lannister’s main party and 1 MV-22 Osprey for servants, cargo, etc, plus an additional one on standby in case there's more. As for protection, and intimidation value, 3 AH-1Z Viper Attack Helicopters, were chosen for their speed, armament, and intimidating design. With the final pre-flight check complete, the extraction team is ready to depart.

Titan-1 (Super Stallion) : “Warrior Control, Titan-1. Ready for launch. Confirming flight plan: takeoff from Makin Island to Lions Field For extraction. Vipers in formation. Over.” 

Carrier Air Traffic Control (Warrior Control) : “Titan-1, Warrior Control. You are cleared for launch. Vipers form up on Titan-1. We have just received further instructions to do a fly over of the USS Savannah Takeoff and fly in sequence. Over.”

Viper-3 (Lead attack helicopter) : “Copy, Warrior Control. Vipers are ready to roll. We’ll stay tight to Titan-1 and Harpy-1 for the journey out. Over.

Harpy-1 (Osprey Secondary transport for cargo/staff) : “ Warrior Control, Harpy-1. Engines hot and ready for take off. Over”

Carrier Air Traffic Control (Warrior Control) : “Understood Harpy-1. Titan-1, Harpy-1, Viper-3. You're cleared for takeoff. Out.

With the last signal of go ahead, the five helicopters switch to flight mode. Propellers blowing wind around the flight deck. Moving faster and faster, seemingly melting with the morning sky. In unison, they lift with no effort, their metal masses appear to be massless as they float in the sky. 

Making small adjustments, Titan-1 points its nose slightly down and begins to move towards Lannisport. With the others following suit. The ocean breaks underneath their blades, seafoam forming with every rotation of the blades. Viper pilots and co-pilots stayed vigilant, scanning the skies and sea. 20 mm rotary cannon following every head movement. 

Because of the condition of being a league away from the port city, the aircraft pushed their throttles to a speed of 45 miles an hour. Not their top speed, yes, but fast enough to make good time to the USS Savannah.

USS Savannah, 15 Minutes to pick-up, 1145 Hours, Nov 3rd, 2025

whop whop whop whop

Master Lorwell looks up from a “Notebook” that Kelly gave him as a gift. “Lady Kelly, What is that sound? It is getting louder.” He looks at her then towards the sound in confusion.

She takes a look and smiles, “That Maester Lorwell… is the pickup cavalry”. 

whop whop whop whop

“Alright everyone! Hold on to everything lightweight and not bolted down! If you are Westerosi, cover your ears, this is going to be noisy!” Captain Richard ordered everyone making final checks to the area.

As Marines scramble to grab anything and everything as orders, the Westerosi that are there seem confused by the order, But when the sound gets closer by each second, they then look to Lord Commander Torren for orders. 

“Everyone do as the Captain says!” As he puts his helm under his arm and covers his ears. They then followed suit.

whop whop whop whop whop whop whop whop

The noise gets louder and louder, then it's right on top of them.

whop whop whop whop whop whop whop 

You could feel the noise deep in your chest. Like the rhythm of a horse galloping at full speed down a flat road. Or sails in a harsh wind at sea.

Thumpthumpthumpthumpth u mp t h u m p t h-

The noise and feel of the wind rushing on top of them went away as fast as it came. Lorwell looked up from shielding his eyes to see five flying metal birds. No, they looked more like giant metal dragonflies. Moving in unison over the city, as if they're birds flocking because you startle a large group of them in a field. It was very much an extraordinary sight. 

“Gods be good. The dragons truly have returned.” The Lord Commander says, slowly getting up from the ground as he had leaped for cover behind a chair. To his right, black shoes shone in the sunlight. He could see his reflection in them, following them up it was Captain Richard with his hand reached out.

“No Lord Commander. They are simply the proud men and women of the United States Marine Corps Aviation.”

[Authors Notes: Special thanks to the following for all their help on this chapter]

• @RadjaDawamindra (on wattpad)
• @dragonlord371 (on twitter)

Chapter Text

“The best road to progress is freedom’s road.”

• John F. Kennedy

Pick up team, 5 Minutes to pick-up, 1155 Hours, Nov 3rd, 2025

As the five helicopters reach Casterly Rock, they travel up and around the side like a corkscrew, collecting as much data as possible from this strange fusion of a castle and hill. 

Every 25 yards, there are murder holes large enough for an archer to lose arrows from. As well as what look like massive crucibles for molten metal in carved out sections of the mountain. Massive turret towers with trebuchets line evenly all around, five at minimum on certain levels facing every direction. Making it the Fort Knox of its time, especially with all the gold that is stored inside.

Titan-1 (Super Stallion): “Warrior Control, Titan-1. Flight of five inbound to Lions Field, riding up the side of the mountain now. Cameras are recording our accent. It’s armed to the teeth. Request clearance to enter airspace and establish a defensive pattern. Over.”

Carrier Air Traffic Control (Warrior Control): “Titan-1, Warrior Control. You are cleared inbound. Vipers maintain a circular defensive pattern at the top. Wind is light from the west. Over.”

Viper-3 (Lead attack helicopter): “Copy, Warrior Control. Vipers will initiate circular defense. No visual threats yet. Holding an escort pattern. Over.

The Lions Field, Casterly Rock, 11:58 am, July 26th, 298 After Aegon's Conquest

Lord Tywin Lannister, his brother Ser Kevan Lannister, and his cousin, Tyran Lannister, waited at the Lions Field dressed in their best garments. A lightweight black boiled leather coat with gold ornate pieces on the front in the shape of lions. Dark red shirt underneath, with a red full-length cape draped over the body. Held with a black belt with a golden buckle. 

In total, twenty-five men and women were standing behind the lords. Mainly Casterly Rock court, Lannister guards, and servants to accompany the people of the court with their every need. Under the order of Lord Tywin, everyone wore their best, best dresses, the best tunics, and the best armor. Even the Servants were given such amazing clothes that they would have never imagined themselves to have the chance to wear. 

Many of the court protested this, but the Lord Paramount shot their complaints down instantly. “To seduce those we have never met. Even the small folk must look highborn.”

The luggage was a different story; in preparation, they insisted on bringing their best. Every piece of luggage was filled to the brim with court clothes, perfumes, makeup, and small clothes. In total, 20 pieces of various sizes of belongings had to be dragged from their respective rooms. The biggest among them is the size of a pony. All in various colors per their respective houses in the Westerlands and their surroundings, and are all separate from Lord Tywin's luggage.

Lord Tywin's main clothes were tucked nicely and neatly in a red and ornate gold trunk, with golden lions hammered in on top. This trunk was next to another larger pony-sized luggage, which was just as narrow, mainly designed for long war campaigns. It was enough to impress those vain Essosi merchants, so it should be perfect to “seduce” the men and women from “The United States of America”.

whop whop whop whop whop whop

Suddenly, a strange sound emerged from the wind, almost like flapping bird wings. The sound didn’t startle anyone at first, just confused them. Many guards looked around at their fellow guards in confusion. 

The men and women of the court muttered among themselves about this strange noise. Even the servants, whose only duty is to obediently serve their lieges, looked to one another for some form of clarification about what was going on.

whop whop whop whop whop whop whop whop

The sound gets louder, creeping up like a lion to prey. Few cover their ears to the sound banging into their brain. Then it's right above them. 

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump

50 feet in the air, gray as steel, ominous in their shape. Two as big as a galley, three as big as large carriages. The wind is moving so fast towards them, it feels as if they will be swept from their feet. Both high and lower born cower in fear. Guardsmen hold their spears ready to strike the beasts. It was pandemonium all around.

“By the Seven…”

“What in the seven hells is that!?”

“Are those dragons?!”

“The dragons have returned, gods save us!”

Lord Tywin Lannister and his brother Kevan hold fast against the raging winds. Examining these strange… “Helicopters”, Lord Tywin remembers them being called as such in the message. They look identical to the insect-like contraptions he saw earlier in the morning above their ships. 

The Lions Field, Casterly Rock, 50 feet above, 1200 Hours, Nov 3rd, 2025

Titan-1: “Warrior Control, Titan-1. We have entered our final approach to Lions Field. We see around 35 personnel in total. Maybe more. Vipers, hold tights in circular defense and keep eyes on the field. Over.”

Viper-4: “Copy, Titan-1. Eyes on you. Ready to respond if needed. We’ll keep a close watch as you land. Over.”

Viper-5 : “TItan-1, Viper-5. Elevating another 20 feet. We are in circular defense. Have a visual on the field at all times. No hostiles so far. Over.”

Titan-1: “Roger, Viper-5. We’ll touch down and secure the area for Lord Tywin and his party. Harpy-2, Touchdown 20 yards behind. Over.

Harpy-2: “Understood, Titan-1. Following your lead. Over”

Viper-3 : “TItan-1, Viper-3. All clear in the area, we’ll maintain a visible watch while you land. Over.”

With the final checks in hand, Titan-1 and Harpy-2 make their descent slowly to not scare the locals. Watching from his window, the pilot watches as all the other locals, except two, move back a few feet. Must be Lord Tywin and Ser Kevan . He thinks as the pilot makes final checks.

Tywin watched as the flying behemoths of steel smoothly landed 10 yards away. They move as softly as a cloud. What appears to be wheels fold out from under, like opening a book. The one in front is the biggest; judging by its size, it could hold 20 knights. Maybe even their horses and squires as well. 

The other was a touch smaller, but more complex with its two stretched-out blades on top. It was hard for the lord to think because of the sound the two “Helicopters” make. It was so loud he could feel it in his chest. 

When they finally landed, the noise slowly dwindled. If only it slowed faster, he could hear his brother yell at him or something. As to what it was, he could not say. 

Titan-1: “Titan-1 down, engines shutting down. Harpy-2, secure landing and shut down. Vipers maintain perimeter defense.”

Viper-4: “Copy, Titan-1. Holding perimeter. We’ll stay overhead for any possible threats. Over.”

Titan-1: “Roger, Viper-4. Harpy-2. You are clear for the final shutdown. You will be given the go-ahead to start loading up. Quick in and out. Over.”

Harpy-2: “Understood, Titan-1. Shutting down engines. Will wait for orders. Over.

Viper-3: “Vipers in position. We’ll be covering the perimeter until you’re clear. Over.

Titan-1: “Roger, Vipers. All clear on our end. Lowering the amp now. Keep sharp, over.”

Lord Tywin, Ser Kevan, and the group accompanying them watched as the portion of the “Helicopter” presuming the rear end lowered a ramp. Once down, the clanking of footsteps could be heard. He watched as 9 disciplined men, and surprisingly, women, dressed in green and brown clothes, walked down the ramp and towards them. Only to stop 5 yards away from one another. 

Eight of them were guards as they had weapons in their hands. They were black at night, it reminded him of a crossbow, but one that seemed to be made entirely of steel. An army that specializes in long-range, a rather peculiar way of fighting war. Tywin thinks as he wonders what these weapons could do, that he didn’t see any blades or shields on these strange soldiers.

The one leading them was interesting. Standing just an inch or two taller than him, most likely a commander of some sort. One thing that he noted was how the man looked. 

The leader looked like a native of the Summer Isles, brown skinned. His build was fit, clearly knew how to fight with his bare hands. Combined with how he carries himself with discipline, he is most certainly warrior material. On his uniform, there was a piece with a name on it. 

“Green”. Green? Such a queer name for a House to be named after a colour. But of course, these are people from different cultures. The Lord Paramount thinks to himself just as the man in front of him starts to speak.

“I am Captain Jabari Green, part of the 13th Marine Expeditionary Unit. Lord Tywin, I presume?” The man says, walking closer to him with his hand out. Something was strange about him, it was his accent. It was slow, and some parts of his speech were elongated as well. It was quite strange. He reaches his hand out to shake. He has a strong grip.

“That would be correct, Captain. I am Lord Tywin Lannister, Shield of Lannisport and Warden of the West. And this is my brother, Ser Kevan Lannister.” Tywin says, gesturing to his brother. He shakes the stranger's hand as well. 

“Might I ask, my good Ser. What accent is that?” Ser Kevan asks the Captain, trying not to be rude.

“Oh, that? Where I am from is called a “Southern Drawl”. I’m from the state of Mississippi. We're known for our thick southern accents.” The man says, smiling. His teeth were white as snow.

“Well, House Green must be a very mighty knightly house of the Myssyssippy.” Ser Kevan tries to pronounce the strangeness of the name. But butchers it.

“Forgive me, Ser Kevan, I am not a knight nor a lord nor is my last name “Green” part of some mighty house of Mississippi. It’s just a last name that has a long history.” The Captain explained rather quickly, he looked down to a piece of metal on his wrist. 

“Crap. We have to cut it short, Y’all. Is everyone ready to load up?” He questions the two of them. With a nod, he turns and starts to bark orders to the guards behind.

“Alright! Rodriguez, Tanaka, Krakowski, and Durand. You four help load up Titan-1.” He yells with such strength.

“ Rodriguez, Tanaka, Krakowski. Not the kind of names that are common in Westeros, or in Essos either. But I see that one of them has a resemblance to a Dornishman, also…is that a woman? So Lady O’Conner’s is not unique to her people? Very interesting indeed. ” Ponders Tywin. 

“Marino, Webber, Chaudry, and Parker! You help load up Harpy-2. I want all cargo moved as well as personnel into Harpy-2. On the double, people, I want these birds loaded and ready to go in 5 minutes. Move!” He yells once again.

Hearing the name of one of the Marines, Tywin raises his eyebrow. “ Webber? It’s interesting that some of their… bannermen share their name with the house of our grandmother. The others also share names and likeness with people all across Westeros, Essos, and even someone who looks like to be hailed from the faraway Yi Ti. Just what kind of people are they? ”

“Yes, Sir!” The eight guards yell in unison. They moved their weapons to their backs and ran with intent. Running and grabbing luggage in unison. Some are not even struggling to lift the heavier ones. 

What training do these men and… women go through? Lord Tywin wondered before being talked to by Captain Jabari Green.

“Lord Tywin, would you care to show us which luggage is top priority in loading order?” The Large Captain asked, his eyes just slightly above the Lord's. 

“Of course, Captain.” He says with a nod. The three of them, including Lord Tyran, walked over to the two sets of luggage. He points to the ones of the high court, his brothers, and his cousins. 

He then points to his own, “I keep some spare clothes down at the Golden Keep at all times, just in case. So I do not need to bring much from Casterly Rock.” As he explains, Captain Green seems curious.

“What about the big one? It's the size of a Black Bear.” The Captain explained. Confused, Lord Tywin decided to leave that alone for now. He was sure that he would figure out what a “Black Bear” was, besides it being just a bear. 

“Captain Green, this piece is full of many things from and made by the finest crafters and smiths of the Westerlands. Everything inside is a gift from us to you.” He told him, with pride of a Lannister in each word. “You may want to have some of your men… or women come and lift it. It took four of our guards to lift it. Will your “Helicopters” have any trouble?” 

“No, they will not have any trouble. Besides, they are already busy with the other luggage, so I’ll get it.” Captain Green said, jabbing his thumb over to the other pieces of luggage being surrounded and picked up by marines. 

The Captain walks over, examines the luggage, and gives a little stretch of his arms. Squats down and wraps his arms around the trunk, and squeezes tightly as he lifts it with no trouble at all. Small brown veins protrude on his forearms, and he walks it over to Titan-1 with ease. 

“Gods be good,” Ser Kevan whispers to Lord Tywin with his eyes wide as he watches, “There's a full suit of Armor in that trunk, as well as a longsword. Alone, that trunk must be about 7 Stones!”

“The man might be as strong as the Mountain, my lord!” Lord Tyran chimes in with a whisper, so the strangers don’t hear. “It must be their training. If we can find out what it is, then our soldiers could become just as strong.”

Lord Tywin looks to his cousin, not in disapproval, but in agreement. Learning how these soldiers are bred could give us the upper hand in future wars. He thought to himself.

The Lions Field, Casterly Rock, 12:05 pm, July 26th, 298 After Aegon's Conquest

With Titan-1 loaded with the nobles’ belongings, all that was needed was for them to take their seats. Upon further inspection of Harpy-2, there would not be enough room for anyone to sit, so Harpy-3 has to be called in. 

“Lord Tywin, Titan-1 is loaded and ready to go. But we will need to call in Harpy-3 just for personnel. We will have to send Harpy-2 on ahead. Otherwise, we will be good to go”, the big Summer Islander-looking Captain Green said with a smile, “Everyone ready to go?” He said, questioning.

Lord Tywin looked back at the group of Lords and Ladies crowded about the Captain's Marines, they appeared to be examining them and asking questions. Even the servants showed their curiosity as well. “I believe so, Captain Green.” Tywin gestures to Kevan to stop the commotion and get things moving.

As he watched, his brother walked over to the group to restore some order. He wanted to ask the Captain more questions, but a strange sound came from his hip. A small black brick was making noise that sounded almost human. 

“Warrior Control to Captain Green. What is your status? Come in.” It was a strange-sounding voice, but a human voice nonetheless. “If you would excuse me, Lord Tywin,” Captain Green said, unclipping the small black brick. 

Captain Green walked away from Lord Tywin to answer his radio, “This is Green, go ahead.”

“What is the status update on pickup? Over.”

“We are almost done, we just need to get personnel on Titan-1. Over.” He says, looking back at the Lord and Ladies being directed to their respective aircraft. Lord Tyran and Ser Kevan seem to be discussing something amongst themselves. They seemed very enthusiastic about whatever it was they were saying. “We will need Harpy-3 for the personnel; Harpy-2 is full to the brim with luggage. Over”

“Understood, Captain. Harpy-2 informed us moments ago, and Harpy-3 is on its way. Over.”

“Understood, Warrior Control.”

“Send Harpy-2 on ahead to make room for Harpy-3. Also, Captain Anderson wants to know how things are up there. Over.”

“So far, so good, Warrior Control. We will be loaded up soon. Over.”

“Understood, Captain Green. Warrior Control out.”

The Lions Field, Casterly Rock, 12:13 pm, July 26th, 298 After Aegon's Conquest

After being given the go-ahead, Harpy-2 takes off and makes its way down to the Lannisport Pier to unload her cargo. Within a few minutes after her leaving, Harpy-3 makes her landing in her sister’s spot. Lord Tywin watched as this “new” Harpy landed. He asked Captain Green their official name, and it was quite interesting. Bell Boeing V-22 Osprey , and Harpy was just what he said was a callsign , which is interesting. 

Lord Tywin walked up to this “Osprey” just to examine it out of curiosity. He could feel the heat from its “wing blades” slowly getting cooler. On its “hull”, if that's what it is called, has a painting of a Harpy. But her figure is of one found in a whore house in Lannisport. The body of a goddess, covered in feathers, outstretched wings for arms. Sharp eagle talons for feet. The figure is swooping in for some unseen prey. But her face was beautiful, it brought him back to his youth with his wife, who was taken away too early, Joanna. 

How could these strangers, an ocean away, know what his beloved looked like? Every detail of this painting reminded him of her, and it made his mind wander about the thoughts of bygone times. Strange, perhaps, but it was likely another coincidence, considering that these people already have names similar to an existing house. 

Cough, cough. Lord Tywin turned to see Captain Green standing nearby. “We're all ready to go, Lord Tywin.” The Captain said, with a bit of curiosity in his voice. 

“Of course,” Tywin said. He needed to know a bit more. “Captain, what is this painting called on the hull of this 'Osprey'?"

The Captain looked up at the fuselage of the Osprey. He knew that this one had just been painted before they left Norfolk, but never knew of what. Just the name. “I believe her name is 'Jolene’, Lord Tywin. It’s from a song of the same name, but it also has another meaning. It has its roots in two old languages, Germanic and Hebrew. It means “God is merciful”.

Tywin kept looking at the painting as the Captain talked, taking in every detail. “I see, thank you for this knowledge, Captain.” He says, walking back to Titan-1 to leave for Lannisport. So, the people have one god. Perhaps like those fire worshipers in Essos. The Lord thought as he joined his brother and cousin.

Lingering as the Lord Paramount walked away, Captain Green examined the painting a bit further and put the pieces together. “Rodriguez, do you know who put this on here?” He said to one of the Marines making final checks to the aircraft. 

“Uh, no, Sir. I do know that it was painted before we left home. Why?” The Marine was probably 19, turning 20 soon, a young man. 

“Because Private,” he let the answer hang in the air, eyes still on the painting, “someone almost gave the goddamn game away. That's why.” He walks away from Harpy-3, no longer smiling. “We take off in 5”.

The Lions Field, Casterly Rock, 12:18 pm, July 26th, 298 After Aegon's Conquest

Loading up both Titan-1 and Harpy-3 was a task you could say if you were to ask one of the Marines. Having to deal with the nobles was the equivalent of herding cats. All except for Lord Tywin, his brother Ser Kevan, and Lord Tyran aren’t listening to their instructions on how to strap the harnesses onto their bodies. 

The entitlement is astounding, one of the Marines thought, she was trying to buckle one of the noblewoman in but having trouble with the buckle. The Lady was blessed , as she politely put it. All the while her husband, a Lord of some domain near The Reach, was complaining. 

“My word, I feel as if I can barely take in a breath. Are these really necessary, Women?” He said the rudeness was not helping the situation.

“Well Lord Crakehall. It's either that or you walk to Lannisport. Besides, they're there for your protection in case” grunt “anything bad” grunt   “were to happen.” She replied, using all her strength to buckle the damned harness, grunting with each stretch. But to no avail, Lady Crakehall’s chest was just too big. 

“Alright, Lady Crakehall. Try breathing in once more.” the Marine tells her. The Lady was around her early to mid 30s. She gave a deep breath to give space in, but it was no use. “I’m sorry, Lady Crakehall, I'm sure we have an extension attachment for you somewhere.”

The Lady of Crakehall blushed, “It is alright, my dear. I do admire the effort being put into my well-being.” She gave a smile.

Captain Green climbed aboard behind the Marine, “Everything alright, Private Webber?” He questioned, looking from her to the Lady Crakehall sitting in the wall-mounted seat.

“Not really, Sir, just some…” she paused before she continued, “harness trouble.” She gestured to Lady Crakehall's chest and the harness.

He raised an eyebrow, “I see, we usually keep extensions under the seats in a pouch.” He looked to Lady Crakehall, “If I may, my Lady?” He said, giving that disarming smile of his.

“Of course, Captain.” She says, moving her dress to the side to give him the space to grab the extension he speaks of. All the while blushing like a maid.

The Captain kneels quickly to grab the harness extension, looking away so as not to give Lady Crakehall eye contact. She was a married woman, of course. Upon grabbing the extension, he quickly handed it to Private Webber and made his way up the line to help everyone else. Expressionless. 

Webber gave a little shrug, “Shall we try this again, Elvira” she shook her head   “I mean Lady Crakehall” She gave a smile. The Lady Crakehall raised an eyebrow to the name mistake, but nodded for her to try again.

Now, with both Titan-1 and Harpy-3 loaded with their respective passengers, Captain Green ordered one of his Marines in Harpy-3 to “explain” what's going to transpire in a few short moments. How some of the equipment works, etc. Captain Green will be doing the same for the nobles in Titan-1.

“Good Afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Captain Jabari Green, part of the 13th Marine Expeditionary Unit.” The Captain says into the mic on his headset. 

Each of the nobles’ seats has a built-in headset just above them with a cord to reach. Once they were strapped in, a Marine gave and fitted it to their heads. And given some basic explanation as to how they worked. Many were still shocked to hear the Captain's voice so clearly in their ears.

“Now, before we take off, let me just explain a few details. First, you MUST remain seated the entire flight. Especially if something happens, whether it be turbulence or engine trouble. Second, if you feel sick, that is all right. It happens a lot to first-time flyers. We have given you plastic bags in case that happens. If one of you throws up on the floor, I’ll have to order one of my Privates to clean it. Private Rodriguez, that will be you.”

A young Dornish-looking man, about 5 feet and 8 inches. Sitting a few seats over from Lord Tywin looked at his Captain, Mouth gapes and shocked. 

“Hey! What did I do?” He said defensively. The other Marines started to laugh at their fellow compatriots.

“Nothing”, Captain Green said, smiling, “But Private Tanaka has done his puke duty, so it's your turn now. Moving on”

He goes back to his “speech” you could call it, “Now, what you are wearing is called David Clark H10-66 Headset. They are standard issues, if you need something or wish to speak, you will need to click the button of the small picture of a man raising his hand. That button is on the cord of the headset. Then a light will pop up green above you, and one of us will answer. Now, any questions?” 

The captain waited for one of them to do what he suggested. Ser Kevan was the first to press it. “Yes, Ser Kevan?” he pointed to the man.

“What is this turbulence?” He questioned. It seemed the other nobles were curious as well.

“Turbulence is basically what happens when the wind moves past the aircraft and shifts how it moves. Causing the aircraft to “bounce” and “jolt” around. ” He decided to give a very short summary, not entirely accurate but good enough.

Ser Kevan was a bit confused but decided to leave it there. “Now I would love to answer more questions, but we need to get going. Once we are ready to lift off, the aircraft will vibrate and make loud engine noises that may be heard in your headset. That is normal. Once in the air, you must stay seated and strapped in. If something is wrong, or there’s an urgent matter, press the red button underneath the man raising his hand on the cable.”

The Captain looked to them all for anything else, but there was none. “Alright. Let's get this show on the road!” He turned to the cockpit.. 

“We’re good to go to Titan-1.” Captain Green patted the shoulder of one of the pilots with a thumbs-up. One of the pilots returned one as well. With that settled, the Captain took his seat.

As the Captain took his seat, the men wearing the strange helms started to move around and press buttons and flick small levers. Strange, Lord Tywin thought, then with a sudden jolt, the metal hull of the “Helicopter” began to vibrate slowly, then faster and faster. Must be those “engines” the Marines mentioned, the Lord thought to himself. 

Titan-1: “Warrior Control, Titan-1. We are taking off now. ETA to Lannisport pier. 5 Mikes. Over.” 

Carrier Air Traffic Control: “Titan-1, Warrior Control. Understood. Vipers maintain a defensive pattern on the way down. Over.”

Viper-3: “Copy, Warrior Control. Vipers will maintain a defensive pattern. Over.

The Lions Field, Casterly Rock, 12:22 pm, July 26th, 298 After Aegon's Conquest

With the final checks done, both Titan-1 and Harpy-3 slowly lifted off the ground. The few still on the ground, including Maester Creylen, three to four household guards, and one or two servants. They all watched as the massive hulks of metal lifted higher and higher into the air, just about the same height they were when they arrived. 

The bard from Braavos was permitted to stay at the Lions Field to “watch” these events take place. His jaw was finally closed once the metal behemoths moved away in the sky. Subconsciously, he was playing his harp from the moment they began to roar on the ground up to the sky.

Magnificent was the only word that came to the singer's mind. He looked down at his harp and noticed him playing such a sweet, suspenseful, and anticipation-able tone of his new song. The day metal dragons made lions fly.

Pick up team, 5 Minutes to pier, 1225 Hours, Nov 3rd, 2025

Captain Green sat in his seat, as he had done hundreds of times before. The subtle vibrations of the aircraft finally took care of an itch he had on his back that his arms couldn’t reach. 

He looked to his fellow Marines, they too were calm. Their training made them so. But the Westerosi, on the other hand, not so much. It was clear that none of them were entirely comfortable with the descent. The rocking of the aircraft already made 3 Ladies and 2 Lords puke into their trash bags. Lord Tyran and Ser Kevan were green in the gills, but nevertheless keeping it to their stomach. 

Lord Tywin, on the other hand, was fine. He didn’t seem troubled at all by the movements of the aircraft. But it seemed that he was looking out one of the windows. He was on the left side, closest to the door ramp, looking out the windows opposite him. It was facing Casterly Rock. Since it was the first time for him to see it this way, it was understandable for this reaction. Like seeing your home in the most impossible of ways.

Lion’s Sea Step, Pier, 1230 Hours, Nov 3rd, 2025

Kelly, Captain Richard, Maester Lorwell, and Lord Commander Torren waited in front of the massive canopy for the arrival of Tywin Lannister and his party. Thankfully, they didn’t have to wait for long.

whop whop whop whop whop whop

The sound of beating blades in the air was instantly recognisable, especially to the Westerosi natives. The sound will forever be etched into their souls. Some, of course, had the subtle urge to jump behind something sturdy like the Lord Commander did, but it was easy to subside.

The smallfolk no longer surprised by anything at this point that involved these “Americans” they had found them to be called. The word spread fast from the movement of City Watchmen. 

The ones who chose to stay at the Market and watch the proceedings were mainly the young. Boys and girls wanted to watch what could only be described as a fairytale . The older ones, though, had decided that it was none of their business to the world of nobility, only a few stayed behind.

The metal beasts flew above the Market. The wind was blowing unburdened baskets, boxes, and a few fish from the morning's catch away. What was more concerning to the smallfolk marketers was the dust from the cobblestone street. Dried waste, both man and animal, after days of heat and little rain, was blowing onto their product. Making them have to go to the nearest river at day's end and wash the grime off.

Kelly watched as the Titan-1 and Harpy-3 came to a slow hover above the landing indicators. She and the Captain were about 20–25 yards away from Titan-1's landing square. 

As they watched the helicopter land, 2 Marines were on opposite ends of them. Side to side, both with very specific tasks. Normally, for this task, a “War Correspondent” would have been brought over to document the proceedings. But this is not exactly “normal” times.

To the left of Kelly, a Marine held a rather large video camera. It was a fully rigged Canon XA60. It was wirelessly connected to the communications canopy, then connected via satellite. The “meeting” portion is to be broadcast to every TV all across the States. To the right, another Marine with a Canon DSLR Camera for high-quality photos. Kelly’s idea, of course. “Need the best quality for the press,” she remembered telling Peter Lynch, the Secretary of State.

The welcome party watched as the helicopter touched softly on the stone pier, as graceful as a cloud. Engines are winding down slowly. The sound was almost soothing to the ears.

During the “flight down,” as Captain Green called it. Tywin had felt a little discomfort. Not because of the “flight” but at the state of Casterly Rock's defences. Time for a new master at arms, it seems , the Lord Paramount thought to himself as the engines of the helicopter finally came to a stop. 

The Captain was saying something about “unbuckling your harness.” Tywin wasn’t paying attention since he had paid close attention to the Marine who had shown him how to put it on and had explained how to take it off. What he was looking at, though, was out the window in front of him. 

A group of people, three men and one woman, two of whom he recognized. Maester Lorwell and Lord Commander Torren, who seems to be sober. For the first time in a long time, he was not drunk, he thought to himself as he analyzed the other two. The woman, who could only be Ambassador Kelly O'Conner, was wearing some very fine clothes. At least they seemed to be. And the man next to him was most likely a commander of some sort. The ship's captain? His uniform was most interesting, wearing all black with bits of white and gold on certain areas. 

Something of note about the man was on his hips. On his right was a strange-looking Knife? It was hard to tell, but on his left was a sword. It was fairly skinny, he had seen swords like it before from Braavosi merchants. Its colour was bronze and gold with a black scabbard. 

Before Tywin could examine more, the door to the left started to move and shift open with such strange sounds.

vrrrrrrrr eeeee kkkk sssssshhhhhhhh

“Alright, Lord Tywin, Ser Kevan, and Lord Tyran.” Captain Green greeted them before exiting the helicopter. He looked to Lord Tywin,  “Before we exit, is there anyone else you would like to bring to join you in the preceding?” The big man said, looking back at the other Lords and Ladies, slowly getting up from their seats. 

“Who is the other person from your country we will be talking with?” Tywin questioned while taking another look through the window.

Captain Green followed his eyes out the window, “Oh, that would be Captain Richard Webb. He commands the USS Savannah. Nice guy.”

Taking that into consideration, Tywin makes his choices. “Yes, Maester Lorwell, and Lord Commander Torren, Lord Tyran's son. And two or three servants.”

The Captain reached for his “radio”, Tywin had just found what it’s called, and repeated his request to the other person. Satisfied, he put the radio away. “Alright, we are good to go. If you, Ser Kevan, and Lord Tyran could follow me.” He said, gesturing.

“And as for everyone else, the ambassador has an idea in mind for what they can do during the proceedings.” He said, taking a few steps out of the helicopter. Tywin raised an eyebrow at this, but went along anyway out of curiosity. 

Kelly watched as Captain Green ushered the nobles and their retainers out of the helicopter. Many are clearly on the verge of or going to throw up. She gestured to the cameras not to capture any of that. For optics’ sake.

But the men of the hour walked towards them. Leading them, of course, was Captain Green, walking with confidence as the eyes of America were watching. Lord Tywin Lannister was behind them, leading his brother Ser Kevan and cousin, Lord Tyran. Unsurprisingly, the three men were ringed by another four men. Two Lannister guardsmen and what appear to be two servants, one male and the other female. They both appear to be holding something.

Huh. He's holding salt and bread. And she's holding a flagon of wine and. Is that cheese? Must be for their “guest rights” practice.

Washington, D.C. 12:30 pm, Nov 3rd, 2025

With the announcement that the official introductory proceedings would be televised nationwide, the country as a whole is in a flurry of excitement. 

The Oval Office was, well, for once, quiet. Seth had woken up later than usual to read up on the new proposals for the country. Just so happens, he is reading such proposals. Leaning forward in his chair, coffee in hand. Robusta, two creams, and one and a half sugar. The way his adoptive mother used to drink it.

Knock knock

“Come”

creek

He looked up from his work. It was his aide, John Malkovoy and Cling clank is accompanied by Echo. Thumb bump The dog runs over to Seth almost jumping up to his friend but puts his front paws on the arm rest and starts to lick his arm.

“Ha ha. Alright boy. Alright. I have your treats,” Seth reaches into one of the drawers and pulls out a bone-shaped cookie, “hear you go, boy!” He tossed it in the air, and Echo jumped and caught it in his mouth. 

Still wagging his tail, Echo makes his way to his doggie bed and sits down.  

Cough, cough. John fakes a cough to get the puppy love-infused president's attention. “Mr. President, the proceedings in Lannisport are about to begin. The JCS, Secretary Lynch, Secretary Moss, and Director Bandhu are in the Situation Room as we speak.”

Seth looks up from Echo slobbering at the new treat, “Very well.” He stands up, gulping the rest of his coffee, and follows John to join the Joint Chiefs of Staff and Cabinet members. Leaving Echo to his treat. 

Looking up from his toy to see he is alone, Echo walks over and jumps into his friend's very important chair. He sits in it like the king of the K9s, with bits of dog treat on his lips. Looking down at the desk to see what his friend was reading. Of course, he couldn’t make out the words, but he would always try to. 

“Echo! Come on, boy!” A voice yelled to the concentrating dog. Clink clink It was John, ushering him with his leash for his afternoon walks. He always takes him on a walk when Seth doesn't have the time too. Which seems more and more now, but Echo doesn't mind. At least he gets to see Seth off to his meetings.

Echo leaps off the chair and trots towards the aid, but first goes back for his treat to finish. 

Still on the desk were the proposals that Seth was looking at. The two that were receiving the most attention in Congress at the moment. Technological Outflow Limits Act (TOLA) and Education Overhaul Act (EOA). 

President Seth and his aide made their way into the Situation Room. The room is almost filled to the brim with people. Taylor Sutton, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, was closest to the door when the president was ushered in. 

“Attention, the commander in chief has arrived!” He jolts up for the President, the others do as well. Seth looks around the room, satisfied with who's there. He gestures for them to sit.

“At ease, Taylor. What did I miss?” He questions the room while looking at the TV screens on the wall. The left screen has live news coverage of the scene at Lannisport. The right, the same, but unfiltered.

“They just landed a few moments ago, Sir. Now the interesting part is about to begin.” The Secretary of Defense, a middle-aged man of fifty-three, replied, his Persian accent faint but still present. The man’s left fingers pressed to his prominent cheekbones, his elbow resting on the wooden table. He studied the screen, his old eyes soaked in the Lannister Guards escorting Lord Tywin.

Aaron A. Moss, formerly Arash Ibrahim Mousavi. He went from a refugee of the Islamic Revolution to a Corporal in the Arizona National Guard, then climbing his ranks in the Army before his retirement as a General, until he became the Secretary of Defense, many have questioned his appointment due to not being an American-born citizen, but Seth remains firm that Aaron has what it takes for.

Seth takes his seat at the end of the table and joins in on the viewing. The reporter finished some facts he had never caught. He rubbed a scar above his left eye, still bothering him after all these years. A simple bar fight during his college days. 

He doesn't like to think about it now, as there’s a lion that needs to be tamed.

“Okay then Old Lion, let’s see what you’re made of.”

Lion’s Sea Step, Pier, 1230 Hours, Nov 3rd, 2025

Kelly watched as Lord Tywin and his brother and cousin took a few final steps away from her and stopped. The other lords and ladies who came with him about 20 yards back. Waiting for their lord's approval or disapproval. All the while, the cameras recorded and reported live hundreds of miles away.

Might as well get started , Kelly said to herself. She made her way towards Tywin as professionally as she could. “Lord Tywin,” She said with a smile, “my name is Kelly O’Conner, Ambassador to the United States of America.” Her hand was open for a handshake, he obliged her offer. His hand was firm, but smooth. 

“You would be correct, my lady.” He says, as he leans down and kisses her hand in a kind gesture. Rising back, “I am indeed Tywin Lannister, the Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, Shield of Lannisport. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady O’Conner.” He says, giving what seems to be a subtle smile. 

She removes her hand from his and gestures for Captain Richard to come over. “This is Captain Richard Webb of the USS Savannah. He will be joining us today.” The Captain gives Lord Tywin a subtle nod and reaches to shake his hand. “Lord Tywin, it is a pleasure. We have heard so much about you from Maester Lorwell. We hope the drone we sent didn’t scare anyone too much, at least.”

“Not at all, Captain, not at all.” Tywin turns sideways to do his introductions, “This is my brother, Ser Kevan. And this is my cousin Lord Tyran Lannister, the Lord of Lannisport.” He looks to the other two Westerosi with the “Americans”. “I see you have met his son, Lord Commander Torren Lannister.”

“Indeed, we have, besides a misunderstanding earlier. He has been a great help to us in this city.” Kelly looked to address Lord Tyran, “And I must say, Lord Tyran. Lannisport is absolutely beautiful. It reminds me of a city called Dubrovnik, which is a port city in a country called Croatia. My Husband and I went on our honeymoon. Few differences here and there, but identical.”

Flattered by this, Lord Tyran gave her a big smile of gratitude. “Why, thank you, my Lady. I wish to go to this “Croatia” one day and see its beauty.”

Hearing that, Kelly and Captain Richard shared a look, a look of unease. “Is everything alright?” Ser Kevan questioned. They both looked back at them, their faces almost grim.

“Well, you see, Lords and Ser. It might be best to explain everything inside.” Kelly explained and gestured to the ornate canopy behind them. The Lannister banner and the American flag were draped for all to see. 

“Very well, and the other nobles?” Tywin questioned and looked at the other twenty or so waiting patiently.

Kelly gives a little smile, “We actually have an idea, if it is alright with you.” She turns to one of the Marines standing by the Cameraman broadcasting. “Staff Sergeant, if you would be kind.” She gives the young man.

Tywin watches as this young man walks up with a sense of urgency. 

“Yes, Ma’am?” 

“Lord Tywin. This is Staff Sergeant Jeremy Moore. He and the XO on the Savannah will happily give our group of Lords and Ladies a tour of the ship. Then show them to the dining hall for lunch.” She gestures to the massive steel ship anchored to the pier. “Would that suffice?”

Tywin had a moment to think on this. Taking the Lords and Ladies of my court hostage? No. Why would they need to? Seems though, these Americans are trying to gain some favor from the lower lords. Smart. Smart indeed. “I believe it will, my Lady.”

Kelly, with a smile, gestures for the Staff Sergeant to begin his “tour”. Looking back to Tywin with her smile on display. Turns sideways and gestures for the men to the canopy.

“Shall we begin?”

Chapter Text

“God has a special providence for fools, drunkards, and the United States of America.”

• Otto von Bismarck

ABC News: We are now watching the first high-level meeting between the United States of America, represented by Ambassador Kelly O’Conner, and the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, represented by none other than Lord Tywin Lannister, the Lion of Casterly Rock himself. Even now, we still can't believe he’s real. Unfortunately, neither George R.R. Martin nor Charles Dance are here with us. Look, they just entered the canopy meeting room. The White House had given us and other news stations a memo that there would be short introductions, then the feed would be cut, so the talks could continue in private. A truly historic day for the American people.

Lion’s Sea Step, Pier, 1235 Hours, Nov 3rd, 2025

The camera follows as Kelly leads the delegation group into the canopy. Two Marines on guard hold the doors with one hand and the other on their slung rifles. Captain Green makes his way inside with the large trunk with the help of another Marine. Because of the door, it wouldn’t be possible for him to carry it in by himself. As the group makes its way inside, the cameraman pans over to the market. Another crowd has gathered to watch with interest.

“Oysters, clams, and cockles!” a young woman, probably twelve or thirteen, shouts to the crowd. “Get yourself some oysters, clams, and cockles! Fresh from the sea!” She pushes a massive cart full of them. Slowly, the crowd goes to her to buy some snacks to eat with their “entertainment.”

Turning back, the cameraman makes his way inside to set up for the meeting. Along with the other cameraman for pictures.

snap click

The brightness of the room was quite interesting, yes, the light from outside did illuminate through the clear windows. But there was something else emitting from the ceiling. It has a rather warm feeling to Tywin, not candlelight, but a natural feel.

click snap

“Lord Tywin, you and your party shall be on this side of the table, and I and the Captain shall be on this side.” She gestures to said sides.

Tywin notes the directions they are facing, East for us, and West for you. Interesting way of arrangement, my lady.

snap click

“As for the two guards and two servants, they shall have their seating arrangements in the corners. Please be seated.” She says with a smile, taking her seat.

Tywin took his seat in the middle, as Ser Kevan was on his right. Gesturing, Tywin had Maester Lorwell sit next to him for counsel. As for Lord Tyran and his son? Last seat on both sides; Tyran right, Torren left.

The chairs were surprisingly comfortable, the cushioning was some kind of material that Tywin could describe. They seem to be designed for the occupant to be able to sit for quite a long time. A bed made of such material would make a man never want to leave his chambers again.

“I must say, my lady. These cups, I have never seen one so clear before. What are they made of?” Tywin heard his brother question, holding a wine glass that was so clear it could be made out of water. Looking in front of him were more of these glasses. Three wine glasses, rimmed with red metal, almost shone in the way that would envy the Myrish glassmakers. One appeared to be filled with water.

click snap

“They are crystal wine glasses. Handmade, I believe, from New York. As for the silverware, I believe it was from Massachusetts, and the white quartz on it is from Virginia. And the porcelain dinnerware is from Illinois.”

New York? Massachusetts? Virginia? Illinois? Such interesting kingdom names. Or maybe they were cities? Nevertheless, it wouldn’t hurt to take a look at it. Tywin had thought to ask their original meaning, but something else caught his eye and his ears.

snap click

“Pardon me, my lady,” Tywin carefully began, “But what is that noise? And what is that large… box that man is handling? The same goes for the small one, the other is pointing at us.” He gestured to the two Marines standing by the edge of the table close to the wall.

The man holding the rectangular device with what looks like the Myrish lens was clamping it onto a stand of unknown metal and tying ropes to the back of it. The other was partially helping and pointing the small brick at them that had another Myrish lens.

“Oh, those? The big one is what we call a “video camera” and the small one is a “photo camera”. The “video camera” is broadcasting at this very moment, and the noise is coming from the “photo camera” taking images of us. Think of them like life-like paintings.” She explained, “We can give you a copy of the pictures if you'd like to keep this historic occasion.”

Tywin gives Kevan a look, “If you can give us several, then that should be fine.”

“Fantastic,” she looks to address the one with this… photo camera, “Please have enough copies made out for Lord Tywin and his group.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” The Marine nods and makes his way out of the canopy.

In addition to what these “life-like” pictures would be like, Tywin is also quite curious about what she meant by this broadcasting. However, there is precedent that he must perform first.

“My lady”, he says softly but firmly, “before we begin, we must invoke the guest's right first, for this is something that can not be delayed.” He nods to the two servants to bring the ingredients.

Kelly and Captain Richard watch as the two servants place down the following in the middle of the table: A large silver flagon, a wheel of cheese about the size of a dinner plate on a wooden board, a bowl of salt, and bread. The bread is a round loaf, with ornate scoring in the shape of a seven-pointed star, and symbols of what appear to the creatures under each point. Looks like something from a catalog

“Ah, yes. Maester Lorwell told us about this custom earlier. Such a fascinating concept. It’s only proper that we respond in kind.” She gestures to one of the Marine guards, “Could you have them bring in our offering of gratitude.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” The Marine nodded and made his way out the other doors.

The Captain eyed everything placed on the table, “I guess we would have to eat first?” he questioned.

“That would be the tradition, yes.” Ser Kevan answered, “We will need the wine served.”

“You, serve the wine” Tywin commanded the servant next to the trunk that Captain Green had lifted with such ease. She was young, around twelve to thirteen years old, thin, with dirty blond hair neatly tightened into a braid, and wearing fine threads that she wasn’t used to. “Yes, m’lord.”

Both Kelly and Capt. Richard watched as this, well, the only word that came to Kelly’s mind was child, quickly get up and decant them all wine. Starting with them. The flagon of wine was closest to the drop-off of the table. With surprising ease, the girl picked up the flagon and began to decant for Kelly.

She’s too thin for someone her age. My guess is that she is some knight's bastard, the only explanation for working as a servant for Tywin that I can think of. “What's your name, dear?”

The young girl finished filling up Capt. Richard’s glass, “M-my name is Maera, m’lady.” She seems so shy.

“That's a very pretty name, Maera. What is your last name?”

The girl was just about to fill Lord Tywin's cup when asked. Her eyes went from Kelly to Lord Tywin, “I. Um. My last name?”

“Hill, my Lady, her last name is Hill,” Tywin cut her off before she could answer, “She is a bastard of one of the knights who had died some 9 years ago at the Battle of Pyke. Though she is part lowborn from a serving girl, she is still a daughter of an anointed knight. It is my duty to put her to good use,” he looked at the Maester, “I believe his name was Ser Arlon Serrett, I believe, no?”

Maester Lorwell had finished writing in the notepad that Kelly gifted to him, he was still getting used to the pen as well. “You would be correct, My Lord. I met him once or twice. Good man, with great talent for the sword, he will be missed.”

“I see,” Kelly looked at Maera, “I am sorry for your loss, dear.”

She gave a subtle bow, “Thank you, m’lady.” She went back to filling the last of the wine glasses while her liege lord contemplated Kelly’s reaction to her. The fact that Lady Kelly asked for Maera’s surname means that she’s aware of the tradition around bastardy, likely from Lorwell. Yet, even after I told her that Maera is a baseborn, there’s no change to her kindly tone and body language. Very unusual indeed.

Once the glasses were filled, Tywin rose to give a toast. “Lady Kelly, Captain Richard. To show our utmost hospitality, only Arbor Gold would suffice. To a friendship that lasts a thousand years.”

Kelly and Capt. Richard stood, raising her glass, “And to your King, King Robert Baratheon the First of His Name. We hope for him to be blessed with good health and his kingdom to prosper and be eternal. Such a shame we won’t be able to meet him today…”

“I believe his grace will be delighted to meet your people soon, My lady.” Ser Kevan said, raising his glass as well. “And to the United States of America, may these talks bring new wealth and fortune to your people for a brighter future.”

They all drank to their toasts.

Bleh, Kelly has had years of training to hold back emotion, but this was difficult. I imagined Arbor Gold tasting... well, better than this. This tastes like a $12 box white wine from Walmart, and that was in the clearance aisle.

cough cough cough cough

Capt. Richard, on the other hand, didn’t have such training. “Forgive cough me. Cough I’m not much of a wine drinker.”

“That is alright, Captain. It is an acquired taste. As long as the Guest Right offerings have been eaten and drank, it will still count.” Tywin hosed the tension before it could rise while mentally noting the Captain’s reaction. His reaction shows unfamiliarity with the finest of wine that Westeros could offer, but not the wine itself. Lady Kelly doesn't seem to be that impressed either. I wonder what kind of vintage that these people could have.

They all sat. Tywin was the first to reach for the bread, tearing a piece and dipping it into the salt. “This bread was baked fresh. With the finest wheat in the Westerlands,” he said, eating.

Kelly followed suit, the bread was soft and still warm. The piece was about the size of a clamshell, and the salt made it look like one, too. Capt. Richard took a piece and went for the cheese.

“Captain, let me cut that for you.” Lord Tyran offered, pulling his dirk out. The Lord stood up and sawed through the big wheel with ease.

Guy has some strength to him, Capt. Richard thought as the Lord placed a slice of cheese on his plate. “Thank you, Lord Tyran.”

“My pleasure, Captain.” The man sat back down with a piece of cheese and bread for himself.

Both Kelly and Capt. Richard gave each other a side-eyed look before eating. The bread was… Ok, freshly made, yes, but still nothing to rave about. Probably the salt. She tried another piece without salt. Better

The table was silent as the 7 of them ate the Guest Right from the Westerosi delegation. Overall, the food was good, at least when compared to the food of its era. Kelly took another sip of wine when a Marine came inside.

“Ma’am, we have our gifts for Lord Tywin’s. Shall I have them bring it in?”

“Of course.”

They all watched as four Americans, each one of them wearing what looked like a dark blue tunic and trousers. Three of which carried silver trays with massive lids. Two of them used one hand, and the other two. Cheese perhaps? Tywin pondered.

Now, the fourth woman was the most interesting. Holding a tall, skinny green glass bottle like a newborn babe. Such delicate handling? Must have some special importance to them.

The three with the silver trays placed them right next to Tywin's guest rights offerings. With a swift motion, the lids were removed, and it was truly something to behold.

A massive round loaf of bread, still steaming, scored with leaves. The parts that had been cut deeper than the scoring were a golden color. With the rest having been dusted with flour, making it look like a thin fresh blanket of snow. The smell was the first thing to hit Tywin's nose. Such aroma, fresh from a bakery with a hint of sourness.

The second was a silver bowl of butter, it even had ornate shapes on its surface. A knife with a rounded point sat next to it, with the same quartz as the silverware. The third was a wheel of cheese, already cut, about the same size as theirs, with another knife right next to it, two points at the tip.

“I have never seen a wine bottle such as this. What is it called?” Lord Tyran questioned, looking at the woman cradling the wine. The other Westerosi were intrigued as well.

The woman had the described look as a maiden of Yi Ti, a realm that was so far away that many small folks believed them to be mythical. “This is a 1973 vintage made from the finest Chardonnay grapes sourced from Sonoma County. A white wine produced and bottled by the Chateau Montelena winery of Napa Valley.”

Napa Valley? So that would be their Arbor, and 1973? A year, perhaps. If so, their people have been around for a while. Before he could ask, the woman holding the bottle began to open it with a strange, small tool.

“May I ask, that number. 1973. Does that have any major significance?” Lord Commander Torren questioned.

“That would be the year it was bottled, and the same vintage that won an award in a country called France three years later. After the competition, our government buys dozens of bottles for special occasions, including one that is currently exhibited in one of our national museums. I must say, I am quite excited to try it myself.” Kelly answered the man with some excitement in her voice.

“And how long ago was that? Ten? Twenty Years?” Tywin asked with great interest. Taking another drink of Arbour Gold.

“52 years ago, and I’m not a 'wine expert', but I believe they store it in the bottle. In a temperature-controlled environment.” Kelly said as she took a drink of water.

52 years, so it would be at least comparable to the private stocks of the old Runceford Redwyne, a vintage that has been purchased by traders from across the Narrow Sea for as much as thousands of gold dragons for each cask, but… the hells does “temperature controlled environment” mean?

Pop

“May I proceed with decanting, Ma’am?” The wine woman asked.

“Yes, please.” Kelly gestures to Tywin and the other side of the table. Start with them.

The elegance of how she decants the wine. Cradling it with a towel that is the colour of snow. And the colour was immaculate, like a sunrise after a long winter. Each one studied the wine in the glass. Truly a beautiful colour

“I have to say, I have never seen a wine that lights up in the light. Fascinating.” Ser Kevan says, lifting the glass to the light to examine. Like a child's curiosity.

My turn. Kelly stands, “Lord Tywin, Ser Kevan, Lord Tyran, Lord Commander Torren, and Maester Lorwell. I hope our gifts of wine, bread, butter, and cheese meet your expectations of our hospitality.” Capt. Webb stands beside her.

“I must warn you, my lady. I am not so easily impressed.” Tywin jests and stands to meet her, the others do the same.

“Oh, that's to be expected for a man of your position, but there’s a first time for anything. For our good health.”

“For our good health,” Tywin says, giving a little smile. More of a subtle smirk.

The moment. No. The second the wine hit Tywin's lips and tongue, it was like a punch in the face. The smell of lavender and orange blossom filled his nostrils, like a dance of scent. And the taste, oh the taste. Like The Smith took a ripe peach, a green apple, and honeydew. Put them on an anvil and hammered them into one. Yes, Tywin had no love for the gods. But this gave him a reason, no, a true reason to give them love.

So many more flavors came through with each bit of wine. Richness with a good amount of acidity. At last, a true wine to replace the Redwynes’ monopoly.

“My word,” Lord Tyran sat down with a subtle thump, “This is the true nectar of the Gods. How? How is this possible?” Utter disbelief painted his face. Became a cue for everyone to sit back down.

“What can I say,” Kelly shrugs, “we’re good at making wine.” She took another sip. Well, at least as good as the French, not that they can complain with it… wherever they are now.

“I see that you like your wine better than ours, Captain.” Tywin looks to the man, who was taking another sip as well. “Was there something specifically wrong with our wine? Not to your standards?” He raised an eyebrow.

The Capt. gives Kelly a look. All she gave in return was raising her eyebrows in a little shrug. “Well, with all due respect. It's just that your wine doesn't taste right, almost expired. It could be the process in which it's produced, or the storage, or just the grapes used. Again, I mean no disrespect, I’m more of a hard liquor and beer.”

Mhmm, what is this ‘Hard Liquor’? “And you, Lady Kelly? Is that how you feel about our wine as well?”

“Well, I wouldn’t be as harsh as the Captain was. I would more or less compare it to a much cheaper wine. That comes in a box.” She said, taking a glass of water this time, water that Tywin just noticed, also clean like a crystal.

There was silence in the room, the eyes of Lord Tywin’s group were wide, shocked is a better word for it. Looking back, though, the two guards and two servants showed a different reaction, which also included dropped jaws.

Tywin, on the other hand, has a shocked expression too, but it's more of curiosity as well as impressed by their honesty. Especially after tasting their impossibly clear and sweet vintage. Besides, it was not Westerland’s own spiced honey wine, so it made the criticism easier to swallow for the Lannister.

Kelly realizes she needs to quickly move things along. “But, I digress. We still have the bread, cheese, and butter to have. Captain, if you would be so kind.” I just know Peter is facepalming himself after that shit I pulled. Oh well, why did you have me do this then? Hmm?

God-damn. A bit much? “Of course.” Capt. Richard stands and grabs the knife hiding behind the bread and unsheathes it. He feels the hilt and realizes what kind of knife it is, and looks back at Kelly. You’re kidding me? She just gives him a mischievous shrug.

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Tywin watches as this knife, if you could call it that, cuts through the bread like a hot knife through butter. Now, this is interesting. They all watch as he cuts the bread into evenly sized slices, the steam still wisping in the air.

“C-Captain Webb, what is that?” Tyran asked somewhat nervously at the display.

The Captain looks at the knife., “Ah, this is just an electric bread knife, it’s nothing much…” He resheathes the knife and puts it back on the tray.

“Nothing much”? The hells was that? Why would they casually demonstrate something that is the equivalent of sorcery, for something so simple as bread? There’s also this glass of water that she keeps drinking, water shouldn’t be that clean and easy to drink. No. It's a message of power.

“Please,” Kelly gestures to the food in front of them, “feel free to dig in.” She reaches for a piece of cheese. Gouda cheese, my beloved.

Maester Lorwell went for the bread, then laid a nice even spread of the butter and ate it. “My word,” he says after the first bite, “this is exquisite.” He began to write in his notebook with each bite.

With that, everyone else went for a slice of bread, either butter or cheese, and ate. The Maester is right, this is exquisite. It has a sour flavor, but it's not overpowering. With the added butter, the salt in it has a subtle but robust flavor to it. Creamy that adds character to the sourness of the bread. Certainly a bread fit for the nobility.

The facial expressions on his brother said the same thing, “What is this? I have never had bread so good. The sourness makes it so unique.” Kevan said after finishing his first slice. Reaching for some cheese.

“It’s called “Sourdough Bread”. It's made with a fermentation process called a “Sourdough starter”. If I remember correctly, it has a trait to last an indefinite amount of time, with the proper maintenance and feeding. It’s a whole science.”

“My Lady, there's something I would like to come back to that you mentioned earlier,” Tywin questioned, eating a slice of cheese. Hard texture, but quite creamy

Kelly, quite intrigued, “Of course, and that would be?” She took another sip of wine. Swirling it after.

“You mentioned something about the 'video camera', and what does 'broadcasting' mean, exactly?” Tywin questions, taking another sip of wine.

Ah, yes, now he asks the million-dollar questions: How to go about this? I could just dance around the subject. No, he would know I am lying. Tricky, very tricky. Kelly contemplates this conundrum as she sips slowly. Hmmmm, or I could just show them.

“Why explain, when I could show you?” She looks back at one of the Marines, “Is that TV set all hooked up to a link home? Would just need it to last a minute or two, as a demonstration for our guests.”

“I believe so, yes, Ma’am.” The tall man walks over to a pitch black piece of glass by the wall to Tywin's right. Did I not notice that? What is it? A mirror? The Marine grabs a small rectangular, Brick? And hands it to Kelly.

Click

She pressed down on it, “Now let's let that turn on as I explain. But first of all, Lord Tywin, you may already know this, but we were watching you through the drone. Maester Lorwell and Lord Commander Torren can verify this for you.”

Tywin looks to the two men, “Is that true?”

“Lady Kelly is correct, my lord.” The old maester says, giving a small nod.

“We saw the scared faces of the guards when the drone landed. Then you, Ser Kevan, and my father come out to examine it. You write your reply to the message from the box, and the drone flying back to us. My Lord.” Lord Commander Torren says with great enthusiasm. Like a child sailing for the first time. “It was spectacular.”

Ser Kevan's face showed even more confusion than his brothers. “And that was what was called 'broadcasting'?”

“Yes, but that was an isolated signal. Broadcasting is a much wider signal.” Captain Richard answered, but it wasn't enough to satisfy them.

“I still do not quite under-.” Tywin was interrupted by this TV, which lit up, and strange images began to move. What appeared to be unnaturally tall and almost magically lit massive buildings surrounded a large group of people clumped together, smallfolk most likely. “The hell’s?”

Got him! “This is Times Square in New York City. Located in the state of New York, a watch party was set up by the Mayor of New York City for its residents.” Kelly smiled with pride at the stunned Westerosi.

“So, these smallfolk are watching us? Through that?” Lord Tyran pointed at the video camera, eyes wide.

“Essentially, yes. Watch the screen, there is a delay.” Kelly gestured to the TV. And as if on cue, the massive screen the New Yorkers were watching echoed back Lord Tyran's words. The Lord's skin turned white.

“Hello, Westeros! Greetings from New York City!” The people watching yelled, most looking at or towards the camera on site. Men, women, and children of all forms waved with smiles, many of them holding tiny US flags.

“H-h-hi.” Lord Tyran said, waving at the Camera nervously.

Maester Lorwell was a bit surprised as well. Sure, watching the drone footage was a lot to take in. But having the ability for others hundreds, even thousands of leagues away, was a bit daunting.

There’s also the fact that what was in front of him was almost literally an entire sea of humans. The kind of crowd that even cities like King’s Landing would find hard to pull off and was only remotely possible in larger Free Cities across the Narrow Sea.

“Lady Kelly, how many of your people live in,” he gulped the bit of saliva that was building in his throat, “this New York City?”

Kelly glanced at Captain Richard, and this time he returned a little shrug. We were never given specific orders not to give out population densities. I guess it should be fine. “If I remember correctly, I believe it's around 8.40 million. Could be off by a few.”

“Eight point forty million,” Ser Kevan said in astonishment, looking at the TV, “King’s Landing has around five hundred thousand. But those numbers can very well be off.” He looked back at Kelly with concern in his eyes, “How many of your people are there in your lands?”

“You mean the total population of the United States of America?” Kelly asked. All he did was nod.

“Every ten years, we do something called a census,” Capt. Richard decided to take this one, “the last one was done 5 years ago. And the total population was around,” he did some thinking about the last time he looked, but mainly to let the answer hang in the air, the suspense was palpable as he took another sip of wine, “340.1 Million, again, give or take.”

Pfffffttttt cough cough cough

Lord Tyran nearly choked on his wine, blowing it onto the floor in a fit. “Pardon me, my lady” cough cough “...but did he just say three hundred forty million people?” cough cough

One of the servants, the male one, came to him and patted his back to clear the wine. The Lord of Lannisport's face was red and a bit wet from the wine.

huff huff wheeze “Forgive me, but that's impossible.”

“Oh, that’s what you would think.” Kelly smirked and picked the remote back up. Click

“This is Los Angeles, California, the second-largest city of 3.8 million. Their largest stadiums were all booked to watch, just like Times Square.” Kelly says, clicking through a few scenes of massive arenas filled with people.

“And this is Chicago, click Houston, click Phoenix, click Philadelphia, click San Antonio, click San Diego, click Dallas, click. And those are the ones in the millions. We were the 3rd largest country by population in our original world.”

There was silence in the room except for the subtle writing of Maester Lorwell in his notebook. Frantic like a mouse.

Tywin was watching the TV intently, the scene was of a city near a river. Glass towers reaching for the heavens. In the left corner was just a name, “Austin, Texas.”

Those tall glass towers…it was simply something that had never before seen in the known world, if there was any doubt that these Americans would bankrupt the glassmakers of Myr, it all disappeared now.

Worst of all…he’s not sure the Myrish could even do anything about it. If he recalls correctly, he only ever heard of something even remotely like it from a certain series of scriptures, records of history that are so rare that not even the Citadel has a full copy of it, and Casterly Rock only barely has a half.

The Fires of the Freehold, by Galendro, contains the most complete records of the Valyrian Freehold.

“Lady Kelly… I think you have made your point. You certainly have a large population and cities, the largest in this part of the known world, even. It is very impressive, I must say.” He takes another drink. “But what do you mean you were the 3rd largest and “original world”?”

Oh boy, “Well, when we said we’re from West of here, we weren’t one hundred percent telling the truth. Yes, we are now located west of Westeros, but we’re not really from here. The planet, or “world” that you may call it.” She hoped that explained it, but the confused faces in front of her said otherwise.

Tywin raised a confused eyebrow, “My Lady… I do not follow.”

Click, Kelly turned the TV to a still image of a mountain range and looked to the Marine with the video camera, “Best cut the feed now.” He gave a nod and left the canopy.

The Marine made his way to the communications tent that controlled the broadcast, “Cut the feed, leave D.C. connected.” The woman at the desk gave a nod and clicked a few buttons.

ABC News: And it looks like we were just cut, and that was quite an interesting interaction. Some jabs back and forth, some surprises, some fun. Wish we could see the whole thing, but now we wait.

Lion’s Sea Step, Meeting, 1300 Hours, Nov 3rd, 2025

The Marine stepped back into the canopy to go back to the video camera, “We’re cut, Ma’am.”

“Good, then let's begin,” Kelly put on a more “serious” face. “19 days ago, our world, through the coordination of 195 countries, braced for what could have been an extinction-level event. Over the past two and a half years, through blood, sweat, and tears, we built bunkers to protect ourselves from a major solar event. The event that was dubbed “The Storm” by our intellectuals. But what we didn’t expect was that phenomenon to bring us here.” She made a simple gesture to her surroundings.

“And what exactly does that have to do with your country being the 3rd largest in your world,” Tywin questions, taking a drink of wine, “...if what you say is true.”

Of course, he doesn’t believe us yet. “Everything, all of our trade partners are gone.” Kelly then counted on her fingers, “Including the three most important ones: Mexico, Canada, and China. China was ahead of us in population and commodity output, while Mexico and Canada were our closest neighbors, literally. Canada was directly to our north, and Mexico to our south, we share the continent with them.”

“Now China,” Capt. Richard gave a little chuckle, “We had a… Well… strange relationship with them, we were competitors in some areas, let’s just put it that way. They were a major provider of rare earth minerals that we don't have easy access to along with other commodities. The main source of those resources are in Canada and Mexico, but we do not have the machines needed to get to them.”

“I don’t quite understand. You said that these…"Canada” and "Mexico" are gone. But you say what you need is still there. How can that be?” Ser Kevan’s eyebrow was raised high, and the others on his side agreed with him. “And why didn't they provide it to you in 'your world'?"

“They did, just not to the scale we need now. Our world had something called “Free Trade”, which allowed trade to move freely through our entire world. Thanks to it, we didn’t need to worry about losing that steady flow of materials… until The Storm, that is. We purchased a decent amount of provisions in case we lost contact with the world, but that was supposed to be only temporary.” Kelly cleared her throat, “As to your question of 'how they are still there'? Might as well show you.” click

The TV screen changes to a multicolored map, “Now this map is a work-in-progress, but it should give the gist of what we are working with. The orange area and yellow are now, with the work of Congress, have been designated as “Canadian Territory” and “Mexican Territory”. As well as the former Central America and the Caribbean being made into territories as well.” click

The TV image changed to a scene of high glass towers, “This was Toronto, Canada before The Storm. A population of 3.026 million people.” click. Now, it is a massive forest as far as the eye could see.” The screen showed lush, dense forest going as far as the eye can see.

“And what's the problem exactly? You can't just take your… machines and get what you need?” Ser Kevan questioned, studying the screen.

“Well, the problem is that the infrastructure is now completely gone. No roads, no electricity, no plumbing. No necessities a modern mining operation needs to function. It all has to be built from the ground up, and that takes time.”

“And with the new territories,” the Captain took charge, “we have to completely build up our fleet. We do have a large surplus of ships in what we call a 'mothball fleet', but those will need to be refitted for use. In addition to the older ships being put back into service as we speak.”

“Why do you need more ships? It appears you already have a decent amount?” Tywin questioned the Americans. “I am sure a fleet of around two hundred ships should suffice, especially if they are all the size of the one you came ashore with. No?” He drank some more wine.

“Forgive me, Lord Tywin. I believe two hundred ships wouldn't meet our needs, especially just for defending our new territory gains. At recent count, we had around 290 Navy Ships in today, ranging from various classes. There's been talk in Naval Command of tripling that number. At minimum.” Captain Webb explains carefully.

“That seems to be more than enough,” Tywin decides to poke the nest, “for such a small continent.” He smirked.

Motherfucker, what? Kelly gave a confused, squinted face, more dumbfounded at the comment. Even his brother, Ser Kevan, was taken aback at the comment.

“I don’t quite understand your meaning, Lord Tywin.” Capt. Richard's voice had a spoonful of venom in it for the Lord. “Care to explain?” He cocked his head a little to the left.

“I don’t mean to offend, but if what you say is true, and you have a population in the hundreds of millions, then you must be piled on top of one another. Like a rat's nest. Nothing to be ashamed of, Kings Landing is the same. Too many smallfolk, they breed like rats as well. I’m sure you understand.”

“No, I don’t, actually.” Now both Kelly's and the Captain's blood was starting to get hot. Thankfully, in Kelly’s case, her diplomatic training allowed her to remain calm and collected in front of a stubborn adversary.

“Well, what can I say, you both are not highborn.” Tywin looked at Kelly, “You confirmed that the moment you heard me call my cup bearer a bastard. Proper Highborn take offense to such, no matter the birth of their fathers.”

Deep down, Tywin knows that it probably is not a good idea to say all of those things, especially with those steel fleets still sitting just outside Lannisport. But his pride as a Lannister just couldn’t help it. Besides, he also wants to test further what these people are made of.

Meanwhile, after recomposing herself, Kelly decides that the Old Lion’s good courtesy must be paid in kind, and she knows the best payment for a man like him.

“Fufufu…”

So Kelly began to chuckle, like a mother bald eagle that spotted an old mountain lion near its nest in the Rockies. It was almost haunting to the Old Lion of the Rock.

“Did I say something funny… my lady?” Tywin lowly growled, as he was not amused at any sign of laughter, especially after his good yet naive father. His Westerosi entourage also has horrified expressions.

“Ah, pardon me, Lord Tywin. It’s just that we haven't used the term “highborn” since… I don’t know, 250 years ago.”

“W-what?” Lord Tyran gulped.

“I guess it’s time for a history lesson then,” Kelly stood, grabbing the Chateau Montelena wine bottle and refilling her glass. “250 years ago, the United States was originally a colony of a powerful kingdom called the British Empire. They were one of the most powerful, if not the most powerful, kingdom in our world from the 17th to the 20th century. In the later half of the 18th century, however,” Kelly began to move to fill everyone's wine. Walking around the table slowly as the eagle stalked the interloper lion, “there was trouble in our neck of the woods. At the time, we were simply known as the Thirteen Colonies of British America.”

“What does this have to do with not being highborn?” Tywin studied her as she decanted the wine into his cousin's glass.

“I’m getting there. As I was saying, the British Empire imposed our people with high taxes on goods to pay their debts after a costly war against their enemy, the Kingdom of France. Oh, you could say that just makes sense. “Your king's army protects you, so you should help pay the debts involved.” And I would agree with you, but the problem is that at the time, the “13 Colonies” had relatively more freedom than most, like the ability to govern ourselves and whatnot.”

“Then the Empire forces their way in, and starts to levy taxes on almost everything. Tea, lead, ink, etc. All of this happened, and we didn’t get a say, a voice in the government. So what did we do? We boycotted everything. We held protests, demonstrations, and threw enough tea off a boat in Boston harbor, tea that was worth more than anything you own.”

The blood throughout Tywin's body began to boil. I am no child to be talked down to. Woman! Before he could reply, though, she fearlessly went on, all the while filling his brother's glass.

“Unsurprisingly, their King, George the Third of his name, views it as an act of rebellion and calls his banners, the redcoats, against the colonists. One thing led to the other, civilians were shot, and people were angered, spiraling events that would spark our revolution, as the colonies finally took up arms against their former liege king. The Battle of Lexington and Concord, referred to as “The shot heard around the world”, was the start of the American Revolution. Can you guess what happened later?” Kelly questioned the old man, a glimmer of a sadistic smile evident in her face.

“You won, that much is clear.” Tywin answered with a hint of annoyance.

“Yes, and after a hard-fought campaign, with the support of the Kingdom of France and the Spanish Empire, we finally expelled the king’s banner from our lands. Ever since, our people have sworn to never bend the knee for any king or queen. We even publicly elected our leaders once every four years, and when I said “we”, I mean every single one of us. Thus, the nation of the United States of America was born, where societal standings were decided by the merit of the individual, not by their last name…or even the cock that conceives them.”

“Such…tolerant ideals your people have there.” Tywin remarks with gritted teeth.

“I wouldn’t say it’s tolerant, just the way the world actually works. I mean you should’ve known at least someone who comes from nothing and yet managed to become something else, or even someone with a prestigious birth who couldn’t live up to their last names, don’t you think?”

Hearing it, Tywin can only scowl as he is reminded of certain Spider and Mockingbird in the Red Keep, scheming their ways and whispering poisons in the court. Furthermore, the last part of Kelly’s question also reminded him of not only his own good but inept man he called a father, but also the embarrassment of an imp that his… son is.

Speaking about the Spider, gods only know how many songs that perfumed eunuch’s have just gathered from his little rats in this city. Damn him to the seven hells! Tywin mentally cursed.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Tywin tersely denies.

“That’s a good answer,” smiles Kelly, much to Tywin’s further annoyance.“Of course, the path after independence is not a smooth one, and we have to stand against all odds, including almost splitting into two due to slavery issues. But we endured and always came out stronger than ever, including ending the slavery system that had been a blight on our nation. We even stand side by side with our former liege kingdom against one of the worst tyranny to ever exist and, in the process, succeed them to become one of the most powerful countries in the world.”

“That is truly some…enlightening tale, my lady.” Tywin said in a tone of defiance.

“If that’s what you want to call it, then be my guest, Lord Tywin… but I just want to remind you that our farewell gift is already on board our ship in this port, and we can always bring it down here right now. Then again, it’s your call.” Kelly makes the final corner to her seat and pushes the cork back on the bottle.

“We won’t be needing this anymore. Bring us some coffee, please.” Kelly says to a Yitish looking woman.

“Yes, Ma’am.” The Yitish then takes the bottle and excuses herself.

As they sat there, simmering in the silence. Farewell gift? She's threatening to end the guest right? Hmm, you sure don’t play around, Lady Kelly. Thought Tywin, then another came to his mind, devious, tempting, extravagant, and a final test for these Americans.

The eagle may have successfully fended off the lion from her nest, but the lion is old and proud and he wouldn't just give up that easily.

“Now let's not get hasty, but first I think a trade is in order. To show our and your good will.”

“And that would be?”

“A war ship,” Tywin pointed towards the Savannah, “that war ship, she sure suffices to be exchanged for Maera to be in your service, along with four hundred gold dragons.” The mountain lion said as it took another approach to the mother eagle’s nest and challenged her once again.

“My lord,” Kevan exclaimed at the madness that came from his brother's mouth, “such a trade is insane to start off with!”

“Have you lost your mind! No way in hell am I letting go of my ship, let alone to you!” Captain Richard was on his feet now, the blood boiling throughout his body. “Besides, we were told you were a reasonable man by the maester!” He pointed to the shocked old man.

“Easy there Captain,” Kelly calms down the Captain with resolute expression. Just like the old lion, the eagle is also not the one to easily give up as she readily accepts the lion’s second challenge.

“I see, very well, but before we sign some contract, let me ask you a question, Lord Tywin, once we trade our ship to you…what are you going to do with her?”

“Excuse me, my lady?” Tywin asked about a question that should have an obvious answer, at least for him.

“What I mean is, if we give our Savannah to you, are you sure your sailors could actually handle her? As you can see, our ship is different from sailing vessels you are used to, as she doesn't even have sails, and she is also made of a special kind of steel instead of wood, so that means the way she works would be fundamentally different as well. Do you think your men, who couldn’t even read if I recall, have what it takes for a ship that even Maester Lorwell here struggles to understand?” Kelly calmly explains before continuing.

“There’s also the fact that she is a strong but delicate piece of technology that requires intensive care and maintenance far more complex than any sailing ship, and the only one who has the materials, tools, and personnel for that are us and us alone. After all, how else could we have 15 more ships of just the exact same type? Otherwise, you would only have a useless floating giant chunk of steel.” Kelly finished as her eyes sharply looked at Tywin, as the bald eagle finally cornered the old mountain lion over the edge of a cliff.

“Well then, Lord Tywin…what is your answer? Should we proceed with the trade?”

*Snort* Hahaha, ouch, shame we couldn’t have her covered in a gator’s blood, but at least she should have the eye-twitching. Captain Webb thought, as his boiling anger was now replaced with amusement.

The room is about to become a battlefield, calm before the storm. Eyes went from one person to another, ready to strike. The gears of diplomacy turn in the heads of Kelly and Lord Tywin. Both sets of guards looked at one another in hesitation, wondering who would strike the first blow, the eagle or the lion?

Then, Tywin finally does it, something so terrifying that it will haunt the memories of his brother, cousin, and any other Westermen who sees it for the rest of their lives.

“Haha…HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!”

He laughed.

Chapter Text

“Efforts and courage are not enough without purpose and direction.” 

• John F. Kennedy

 Lion’s Sea Step, Meeting, 1308 Hours, Nov 3rd, 2025

Pvt. James Seamore and Pvt. Matt Johnson waited outside the negotiation canopy. Guard duty. It’s always guard duty. The young Private thought, watching the scene in front of him. He estimated four, no, almost five dozen. The eyes of the natives watched with great interest on the men. 

“So, what do you think?” 

James looked to his fellow Marine, dumbfounded. “What do I think? You ask that now, of all times?” He went back to scanning the crowd of people.

“Just asking.” Matt shrugged and did the same.

Sigh, “Well, I think this is some crock of shit. I mean, boots like us always get guard duty. I wanted to explore, you know? Brave new world, and all that shit.”

“You idiot, that comes later. First, the government gets what they want, then we get what we are given.” The young man said before turning his attention from his brother in arms.

“Besides, I think it would all be worth it in the end and you can do all the exploring that you want…”  Matt smiled at one of the natives. A blonde woman, in a crimson silk dress, too revealing to be a proper lady. Unsurprising, considering what else this city is famous for. James noticed this and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, when I said exploring, I’m not thinking of Conquistadors so get your mind out of the gutter. You don’t even know what these people could have. Plus, you remember what happened to the last guy who got something from that Japanese chick, right?”

He winced at the thought, “Yeah, enough Penile Swabs for a Marine battalion. I get your point. I guess we just have to SITFU for now.”

James thought of something to lighten the mood, but he never got the chance. 

“ Haha…HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! ”

Laughter broke from the canopy. Sudden and loud. Both of the Marines wondered who laughed like that.

“Well, that’s some creepy ass laugh, like an alien that just learned how to laugh by mimicking humans. Can you tell who it was?” James asked Matt. 

“Beats me, but I can somewhat guess from whom based on that voice… and considering what kind of SOB he is, I don’t even wanna know what makes him, of all people, laugh,” Matt replied.

Although they may have a hint of whom, they'd best not say anything about it. However, the same can’t be said of the people who are inside the negotiation canopy.

Lion’s Sea Step, Meeting, 1310 Hours, Nov 3rd, 2025

What in the seven hells has got into him? Kevan questions as he watches his brother laugh, deeply, like a war drum before battle. His brother, the Shield of Lannisport, the great watcher from Casterly Rock. The most powerful man in all the Seven Kingdoms, if not the world, laughs like their Lord Father once did years ago. 

His eyes ventured over to the Lannister Guards behind them, and their faces. Their faces showed fear . The Red Cloaks of Casterly Rock are no normal guards; they are true soldiers. Unlike the savages of Clegane’s Keep who are only good for foraging and terrorizing peasants, these men were bred for war , trained day in and day out, lived by their sword, spear, and shield, all to protect their liege lords and his family. They are the Lannisters’ answer to the Unsullied of the far east, minus the chopping of their cocks off, of course. 

What developed in his strategic mind then we’re the rumors that are going to spread. They raced around, developing into a typhoon. But were halted.

“Ha ha. The Lion does not concern himself with the opinions of the sheep. But your people, my lady… are no sheep. You have shown that much, you and the Captain. And for that, you have my respect.” Lord Tywin methodically clapped. 

Kevan raised an eyebrow to this. 

“So… you were testing us?”

“Indeed.”

“But why almost throw away this meeting? To gamble on it?”

“To see what you are forged from. When a knight trains from an early youth as a squire, do you have him wear steel? No, he must be forged by fire and steel, hammered into shape on the anvil of war. Because a knight’s experience could be the difference between life and death. Every cut, every bruise, every broken bone he earns molds him. You say that you are not and have no highborn, which for us would mean no knights.”

“But from what I see before me, everyday citizens were bred into warriors. Maybe something more. You do not wear visible armour. Your confidence is your armour, your words are your sword. Your history has tempered you, burned you, hammered you into what sits before us. To put it simply, your people know their place, and I mean that as a compliment, you know the power that you have, and I can admire it.”

“I am used to being groveled too. Feared by my banner man. Because fear keeps them in line. Judging from your letter, I am quite sure that Maester Lorwell had told you about a certain song called “The Rains of Castamere”, no?”

“In a way, I suppose.” Kelly shrugged. “We have other ways of keeping those in line other than fear, but I get what you mean. And yes, Maester Lorwell indeed had told us about the rebellion by your former bannermen, the Reynes and the Tarbecks”, she drank from her glass, “and about the fall of Kings Landing.” 

Tywin gave the Maester a glare of disapproval, “I presume he explained everything in great detail”, he put emphasis on the word ‘detail’, “as I would have done.” The maester could feel himself trying to sink into the chair.

“He did”, Lorwell was relieved to hear the words come from her lips, “I was eager to hear more, but we did not have time, of course. Maybe another time you could share with me your own 'account' of the event.”

“I would be delighted, my Lady. But for now, we have business to attend to.”

“Very well.” 

Lion’s Sea Step, Meeting, 1315 Hours, Nov 3rd, 2025

“It must be a permanent place?”

“Yes”

“But… Castle Golden Keep would be a marvelous place for you to stay. My lady wife, Rosalynd, would be honored to host you there, as would I.” Lord Tyran used all his charm and gracefulness he could muster to convince Kelly to set up the consulate residency in his castle. 

“We thank you for the offer, but a consulate building must be a center for diplomacy. Having it in a Lord's castle would make it seem like favoritism to the other regions. Which is why it must be in a separate establishment.”

Tyran was disappointed, but understood her reasoning. “As you say, my lady.”

During the two-hour grace period before Tywin and his people were to be picked up, Kelly took some time to examine the area around the Lion’s Sea Step itself. More of a mild curiosity, she told Capt. Richard, but in reality it was for the perfect spot for a consulate building. 

Before leaving Washington, she was given the full authority to do so. “ Just don’t go crazy with it, ok ?” The Secretary of State’s words. Hehehe  

With this in mind, though, she did want the building to have a major impact on the local area itself. And after some investigating, she found the perfect one. Not too far from where they are docked is the city's town square, cobblestoned to the pier, a straight shot you could say.  Two old, rundown two-story buildings sat, most likely abandoned, for almost ten to fifteen years or so. The buildings faced west, towards the Sunset Sea. If the buildings could talk, Kelly wanted to hear their story. 

The square seemed more like a market, unlike the one on the pier; this one seemed to sell anything other than fish. Like silk, clothes, parchments, animals, books, and food. A few also sold what appeared to be armour as well. It must be old pieces to be in a normal square. And not at the shop it's made from.  

“There are two old two-story buildings in the town square, not far from here, about a hundred yards or so. They appear to be structurally sound, and they're large enough, at least for our needs now. Do you know about it?”

“Besides that they are old? Not much I know about it, I must say.” Tywin said bluntly, “But, Lord Commander Torren, what do you know of these buildings?” He turned to look at his second cousin. He was eating a slice of bread when all eyes were not on him.

“Oh, those buildings? My predecessor, Lord Commander Marlyn Lannister, shut those buildings down because of an illegal counterfeit coin group. I believe they were called “The Bronze Rings” and ran underneath the two shops above. The “Lioness Cove” and the “Lion's Cliff” were the names. They both were known for their beef and pork pies and decently priced beds. At least that's what the old smallfolk say.”

“Shame really, but now? We find gutter rats sleeping beneath their roofs. They are easy to catch because the places sit on the main cobble road leading up towards Castle Golden Keep. They were both the third and fourth buildings in the city to be connected to the sewer line that comes down from the castle and into the sea. The others are the Golden Sept and I believe the Golden Delight Brothel.”

To Tywin, this was nothing new. Torren spent his time at both the Golden Sept and of course, the Golden Delight Brothel. He just wished Torren didn’t bring it up. “But are they suitable for their uses, Torren?” Tywin presses.

“Forgive me, but I would not know, my Lord. I would say the best course of action would be to have a builder or two take a look. Wouldn't it be right to have them set up shop, just for the buildings to collapse on them.”

“So it could either need some touch-ups or a complete teardown and rebuild?” Kelly questioned the man.

“You would be correct, My Lady. It will depend on what the stonemasons have to say.”

“In that case, you can leave it to us, our Navy has Military Engineers who handle all sorts of construction. They are nicknamed the ‘Seabees’.” Capt. Richard informed them with enthusiasm. “These are tough men and women who can pave away anything thrown at them, it is their job after all. They are onboard the USS San Antonio now. With your permission, Lord Tywin and Lord Tyran, of course, we could have them here in half an hour.”

So your fleet has an entire order of engineers dedicated to construction, for fortifications, camps, and siege engines perhaps, which from the looks of it, also act as a vanguard force, and they are just onboard your ships now? You are prepared for the worst, my lady. Tywin thought with great interest. As he thought, he sipped this coffee that was brought in. 

This coffee drink was served hot like tea but different. Made from grounded seeds of an exotic plant of the same name, the taste was bitter, and it had some kind of herbicidal properties that allowed his eyes to keep awake and his mind to stay sharp and focused. Lady Kelly told him that it was one of the staple drinks of her people and he can see why, this is the kind of drink any self-respecting noble would prefer over the intoxicating wine when it comes to doing their duties. 

When we’re finally talking coins, I’m going to make sure that Casterly Rock would have an entire cellar of these coffee seeds. Tywin mentally noted.

Kelly watched as Tywin leaned over to his brother and whispered amongst themselves for a solid minute. A few nods were shared, a few more glares at her and the Captain.

“Very well, we will allow you to bring these ‘Seabees’ into Lannisport and ‘survey’ the former ‘Lioness Cove’ and 'Lion's Cliff’.” Kelly was glad to hear this, she wanted to express her gratitude. She wasn't given a chance.

“But”, Tywin lifted a hand to let the word hang in the air, “you must allow us to observe your men working on the buildings, so our stonemasons can,” his nostrils flared, “learn your craft. Keep in mind, this would be a simple observation and your men can otherwise do their work unhindered. What say you?”

The Americans looked at one another, almost speaking with their gaze. No harm in letting them just “observe”, right? 

“That would be an acceptable proposal. Speaking of observing, there’s one place that we would like to visit, and we would like to ask your permission for it.”

“What is it?”

“We would like to visit the Golden Sept and see the Septon in charge.” Tywin raises his eyebrows. “As you know, Maester Lorwell has told us many things about your people. Among them is the religion that you followed, the Faith of the Seven, and how your city hosts one of the largest places of worship in Westeros, the Septs as your people called it. So we would like to extend our greeting to the priest, the Septon in charge there to clear up some things about our appearance. You see, we have made quite a bit of commotion among your smallfolks, so we would like to prevent any misunderstandings as early as possible.”

“What could be so important to meet with them as soon as possible?” 

“Our people have a saying: any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. As such, we don’t want to come off as some kind of sorcerers, demons, envoys of the god of death, or even gods themselves, especially not to the believers of the main religion of this land.”

“So you do not want to strike fear into the smallfolk,” Tywin guessed with a raised brow, “But to show them that you come in peace, and to prove that you seek the local Septons' approval, am I not mistaken?” 

“Precisely.” And to minimize the chance of your bitch of a daughter to use them on some hair-brained plot against us. Kelly added in her mind.

“Hmm…then I shall allow it. We do not want a peasant uprising or revolt on our hands.”

“I am pleased to hear it,” Kelly said with a smile, She then turned to one of the Marines behind them. “Can you get me in touch with the Captain of the USS San Antonio, please?”

Lion’s Sea Step, Meeting, 1325 Hours, Nov 3rd, 2025

Kelly made her way back inside the canopy “The San Antonio will get close enough to launch her Landing Craft, as well as another two from the USS Makin Island , they both should be here within the hour.” she said, taking her seat next to the captain, “So, have anything interesting to chat about while I was gone?” She questioned, looking around the table, it appeared they were in a deep discussion about something.

“I was just explaining the concept of diplomatic immunity,” the captain said. “It turns out, it wasn’t a foreign concept for them, as they do communicate with merchant representatives of Free Cities and Summer Isles on almost a regular basis.” 

“Yes, my lady.” Kevan answered, “I can still recall a time when Summer Isles’ traders were injured in a brawl with some drunken bannermen of a noble house. The Summer Islanders then refused to trade spices with us for five to six moons until we punished the responsible rabble and sent an envoy to Summer Isles to apologize to them. You can see why treating foreign representatives with respect is also important to us.”  

“Ah, that’s good to hear.” Kelly said before thinking to herself. Note to self, recommend the high brass to look into Summer Isles and to keep an eye on any swan-looking ships docked in this port later on. Those people might turn out to be important trade partners in the future .

“But, just to be sure we understand, could you explain it, my lady?” Tywin asked her, more for political insight than anything else. As she did, his mind went back into the histories for an example of when it would have been a good idea to have their version of this “Diplomatic Immunity.” 

The more he listened, the more examples from history came to mind. Aenys Blackfyre was the major incident that came to mind. Promised safe passage to King’s Landing by Brynden “Bloodraven” Rivers. Only for him to be executed upon his arrival. If this ‘diplomatic immunity’ concept, at least, the Americans version had come to us a century ago, then Westeros would be a very different place. Yes, very different indeed.

Lion’s Sea Step, Meeting, 1400 Hours, Nov 3rd, 2025

As the discussion went on in length for quite some time, what felt like an hour, at least that was how long it seemed to Tywin in his mind. Learning quite a lot about ‘Earth’s’ geopolitical landscape. Geopolitical, another word added to his already extensive vocabulary. The Maester right next to him had been writing almost non-stop, only to take a drink of water, or shake the numbness out of his hand. Understandable, considering that these Americans seem to have extensively modified their Common Tongue, which they referred to as English language after their former liege kingdom, that there are simply too many new words to be recorded by just a single maester. 

The other four at the long wooden table had been given their own ‘notebook’ and ‘pen’ to write down questions and answers to their heart's content. Tywin's pen moves as well, not like the Maesters, of course. No, that would be Kevan’s job to do. His brother’s pen moved like a carriage on a frozen lake. 

The information coming through his ears flowed like a raging Tumblestone river, or of a broken dam after a harsh rainstorm. Filling, flooding every crevice of his mind. The knowledge seemed almost forbidden in this quantity. 

Light shines through the door as a lone Marine comes inside, stopping the discussion. “Sorry to interrupt, Ma’am, but the Seabees are pulling in now. About one hundred and fifty yards away. They're asking where to dock, Ma’am, what should I tell them?”

“Lord Tyran, would it be alright to dock closest to the road that leads to the soon-to-be consulate building?” Kelly asked the man, who was finishing up writing something on his notepad.

“If I understand your description correctly, then there should not be a problem for them to do so in front of the seaside shops. Plenty of space for the docking lines.” He said with a smile, his golden mustache catching the light. 

“Very well then, let them know where to dock. We will meet them there.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” The Marine gave a nod and left. Leaving the seven of them alone. Besides the guards, of course.

Kelly began to stand from her seat and stretch. “So, shall we go out and wait for them?” She asked the group, all standing slowly, letting their joints loosen. A few making very faint pops.

“I believe that is a yes, my lady. I am quite curious how you're… ‘Hovercraft’  functions.” Ser Kevan said, popping his back.

Coast of Lannisport, LCAC (Codename: Poseidon 1-1), 1400 Hours, Nov 3rd, 2025

Aboard the Poseidon 1-1, the wind rushed through a Commander’s jet black hair. Sun shining off his silver aviators, his jaw moving up and down from the spearmint gum he brought along with him. 

Ted Heisler, originally from the suburbs of Russell Creek in the city of Plano, Texas, joined the Navy to avoid working for his father's construction company and to be a pilot. But one thing led to another, he ended up in the Naval Construction Battalions or the Seabees, which is pretty much his father’s work, but with extra steps. Ironically enough, or not, he proved to have a knack for it. He worked his way up to Commander of the Naval Mobile Construction Battalion 1.

Almost like a tick, he’d look up at the mountain castle and wonder. “Man, that guy must be compensating for something, huh… CD.” The almost mocking voice wasn't his own thoughts, but his childhood friend, who is also the commander of the Naval Mobile Construction Battalion 11, Commander Andrew Collins. That son of bitch of a friend of his who, for reasons only God knows, managed to follow him from the Russell Creek through the Annapolis. 

Ted gave a quick smile before looking around for anyone in earshot, but all he saw were seamen and women relaxed and ready to do their duty. “Commander Collins,” he said with a nod, then leaned in a little, “dude, don’t call me a CD around the men, looks bad, you know?”

“Aye aye… Maverick .” He gave his friend a sarcastic salute. 

“Shut the fuck up, Andy” Ted softly hit him in the shoulder as a joke, leading them to chuckle. Ever since his boot camp days, and even longer when it comes to his friend, Ted was always known for his almost striking resemblance to the actor who played said character that Andy called him. He mostly has gotten over it, but his friend would always bring that up from time to time in his own affectionate but annoying ways.

“Looks like we have an audience.” Andrew nods to the slowly approaching city that looks like something straight out of a movie, along with the crowds that await them. “Let's batten down the hatches then,” Andrew said, turning on his heel. Ted followed, swallowing his gum.

“Attention!” CDR Collins' voice went into his iconic gruff and a knockout punch of authority. Once the sailors stood firm at attention, Andrew stepped aside for CDR Heisler to speak. “At ease, you can relax.” For a few, it was their first time serving with the Commander, let alone two different Commanders at once.

“I know some of you are wondering why two NMCBs are working together. Just so happens we both know how to get things done, and the brass want to impress these people with our skills.” Ted gestured to the slowly approaching city, and a few chuckles came from the sailors. 

“Once we get off the Landing Craft, everyone will get into five even lines and wait for orders. A group of Marines will be with us as well for protection. They will be our protection the entire time we are in this city. Now I know that some of you would prefer to be more… personally armed during our stay, but the higher-ups can’t risk sensitive weapons falling into the wrong hands, so the best thing we have are the Ma Deuces on the 7-Tons and the M17s in your holsters. You’re going to have to make the most of it.”

“After everyone is off and settles, Poseidon 1-1 will depart, letting Poseidon 1-2 dock for equipment. We will be fast and efficient in getting everything we need off. The same will go with Poseidon 1-3. Any questions?”

One sailor raised a hand, “Go ahead”.

“Where will we be setting up camp? In or outside the city?”

“That… I will have to ask, but most likely outside.” Ted replied, he looked back to see that they were just about at the pier. “In any case, we’re about to land, so boys and gals, let’s show these nobles why our motto is ‘Can Do’. Hooyah?”

“ HOOYAH!!! ”

Back on the port. The landing craft was loud, very loud, stupidly loud for Tywin's taste. Sure, living at Casterly Rock gets its fair share of rough winds during a storm. But this… ‘Hovercraft’ matched the noise, if not even louder. He, Kevan, Tyran, and Lord Commander Torren had to cover their ears to block out the noise, but even that wasn't helping. He could feel it in his chest vibrating constantly.

The smallfolk that gathered to watch did the same, wincing due to the pain in their eardrums. A few animals also cry out in fear at the strange craft, including some horses that their riders and stableboys are trying to calm down. The ones that were too close to the landing craft left to get away from the beast. 

The noise from the craft started to get quieter, and quieter as its soft underbelly pressed against the stone of the pier. It moved like a bladder filled with liquid. A soft underbelly? What happens if you throw a spear at it?

Instead of bouncing away, the craft stayed put, still except for the subtle bobbing with the sea waves. A clear outline of some sort of door on the front of the craft, it had painted scriptures and numbers in black, ‘US Navy’. ‘LCAC-51’. Interesting detail work.

But, instead of the door opening as a normal door should, it lowered towards the ground. Unfolding just like the letter sent to him by Kelly some hours ago. These massive metal ramps lumbered out with thumps until the final one went softly on the stone pier. So just like what Lady Kelly said, the Americans use these… hovercraft to land their troops in the same way the Ironborn use their longships to land their reavers. Fascinating!

And what he saw come off that craft. Thump thump thump Men, thump thump thump and women, thump thump thump walking Thump thump thump no, marching down this iron ramp in perfect unison. Thump thump thump, Tens of men and women marched from the craft, turning in a perfect arch towards them. Those emotionless faces that are hardened like stone, they come in many shapes and sizes, colours and features. A true army made up of dutiful and disciplined soldiers and sailors. Very remarkable.  

Leading this ‘river’ of sailors were two men. The shorter of the two looked as if he were from the Stormlands, with broad shoulders and jet black hair. It shone in the sun. In a small pocket on his breast looked to be two small, misshapen ovals that shone in the sun.

The other was another Summer Islander-like, this time, unlike Captain Jabari Green, this man had a somewhat lighter skin tone. He was also bald, with the only hair on his entire head being a black mustache, thin and moving down the sides of his lips slightly. The two of them standing side by side commanded respect, leading this, this, host, yes, host of men and women marching off the craft was the only word that came to his mind. 

Tywin then realized something about these American men-at-arms, every single one of them, is not some rabble that was plucked from villages or city slums and forcibly put on rigorous training to hone their discipline, but people who are soldiers and sailors by their actual occupation. Men and…women who choose to be there, they choose to put on the uniform. He could feel it in the air, and he could see it in their eyes. 

As the final sailors marched off the ramp, it began to systematically fold back up. Upon completion, the craft slowly, but loudly, backs away from the pier, making enough room for it to turn around and go back from whence it came. Tywin watched as two more of these crafts waited in the water, like hawks to prey. 

Each sailor carried a massive sack over their shoulder. Tywin suspected it must be either their provisions, or most likely to also include personal items and sleeping arrangements. Another thing that he noticed was the colour of their uniforms, a brownish green that matched the sack. Why not match their standard? He thought as the sailors lined up into 5 even rows. 

“Attention!” The smaller Stormlander-looking man yelled with a booming voice comparable to a Baratheon war cry. But what was more surprising was what the men and women behind him did. The sacks went to the ground with a thump . They stomped their feet, hard on the ground, into a perfect standing position. Each one still stone-faced, each one looking forward, waiting for orders. 

Tywin couldn’t help but count them all. In total, there were about one hundred and seventy of them, a mixture of healthy and rugged-looking men and women, of a variety of races, skin tones, and heights.

Captain Webb couldn’t be prouder of the two young commanders, having read their dossier. They both showed such professionalism compared to what they were known for. He then walked to the men in attention, Kelly and the six Westerosi followed in a mixture of curiosity and awe at the display of discipline. 

“Good afternoon, Captain Webb, the Seabees are here at your service, give us your order, sir!” At the sight of their superior, the two Commanders give him firm salutes with neutral but sharp expressions on their faces. “Commander Heisler, and Commander Collins, it is a pleasure to finally meet the two of you.” Captain Webb returned the salute, his face showing a small glimpse of a smile.“Likewise, sir!” 

“Good, order your men to be at ease, gentlemen, same for you two.”

Turning on his heel, Commander Collins shouts the order to the men and women behind him. “At ease!” Their boots made the same thump as they did before. The sailors became more relaxed, on guard, but relaxed enough to take in their surroundings.

Captain Webb introduces the Westerosi to them and vice versa. As they spoke, the smallfolk who cowered in front of the shops slowly peeked their way out to investigate the strangers before them with very eager eyes. They at first thought these recent strangers were an entire banner of sailors due to their disciplined way of carrying themselves, but that thought was challenged when they saw a sizable number of women among them. Some of the smallfolks proceed to move forward to take a closer look at the strangers, but the bravest among them, though, were the children. One particular small child, no older than seven years old, approached one of the strangers. 

The stranger is a tall woman, well, tall to any seven-year-old. She had not noticed the youngling staring up at her as she was talking to another one of the strangers. But she felt the child's gaze upon her, the young eyes looking up in fascination. She had golden hair and blue eyes. From the stories the child had heard about the queen, this woman looked like her, but with a rugged mannerism more befitting of a man. She looked down at him and smiled, “Hi there, my name’s Jenny. What's yours, little guy?” She crouched to meet the boy's eye level, the speed at which made him step back in surprise. 

“I’m… I’m Boric, m’lady.” The almost shivering boy said, instinctively giving her a bow in respect. For these smallfolks, there’s no way people who are well-dressed and well-behaved are not part of some sort of nobility circle, and pain often comes to anyone who doesn’t know their place. “I… I'm the son of one of the ma-many f-fishermans here, m’lady”, the boy said, still bowing. 

“Boric, huh. Such a handsome name, pleasure to meet you, Boric.” She said sweetly, her arm stretched out. The boy looked confused, but not wanting to be rude, put out his hand as well. She shook it, and more of these strangers walked over to them and introduced themselves. What was strange to the boy was the kindness these men and women showed to him, which was unlike other nobles. He was but a son of a fisherman, and yet, they were not disgusted by his presence, nor the smell of fish that was clearly there. It was nice.

“We have heard much about you… ‘Seabees,’ I presume, from both Captain Richard and Lady Kelly. I have to say, even though siege engines are the norm for any respectable host, it was something unheard of to have an entire order dedicated to its construction. But then again, your people always find a way to surprise us.” Ser Kevan spoke to Commander Ted, almost like a fellow Lord and not a simple bannerman or sailor. 

He smiled, “I just hope we will do your perception of us justice.” He then turned to his superior, eager for orders. 

Lion’s Sea Step, Seabees, 1415 Hours, Nov 3rd, 2025

“I have sent 3 City Watchmen to inform the stonemasons of the plan and to instruct them to meet at the abandoned buildings. Several others and I will be escorting you and your men there as well.” Lord Commander Torren informed the short jet black haired man. His eyes looked down on the man, only just a little shorter than himself. “Would that be alright with you, Commander?”

Prick was the only word that came to Ted's mind, but nonetheless he had an order and a job to be done. “Yes, that's fine. Just fine.”

“Fine, just fine.” Andrew said as well, looking down on Torren. They both could feel the faint cockiness from this… ‘Lord Commander’, but that was not their problem. Ted looked to his superior, “Are we clear to bring in the Bobcats and the MTVR s, sir?” He asked, raising his eyebrow slightly.

The Captain gave him a nod of approval, “Let’s get things moving then, but first we're gonna need these civvies to gangway, Commander.”

“Aye aye, Sir.” He gave a salute and went about his duty. “All hands on deck!” He then gave out orders to the sailors on his command, all the while his childhood friend was speaking into his radio and looking towards the other two hovercraft.

They all watched as the second of the three chugged along, this time, no louder than ten galloping horses. The craft also appeared to be weighed down, like a ship loaded to the brim with cargo and personnel. Said craft made its final approach, but instead of the soft docking of the previous craft, there was more mass behind it.

Fewer sailors were on this craft, Tywin noticed, at least from what he could tell from the few heads moving behind the ramp. As it unfolded, what he saw was nothing he could have imagined. Sure, the closest thing that came to his mind was construction equipment and materials. But not this.

Two massive grayish steel carriages, almost nine, no ten feet tall, with the leading one having a box-like structure on top of its front that has something like a snout protruding out of it. Probably a bigger kind of those crossbow-like weapons . Both of them staring him and the other Lannister down like a predator and its prey. Two sailors opened heavy metal doors and climbed up into them.

VRRRROOOMMMM 

The carriages roared to life like beasts. Two other sailors were coming down the ramp, making moving motions with their arms. Both Capt. Webb and Kelly followed suit, gesturing for Tywin and the others to do so as well. As well as the first group of sailors, calming smallfolk, and having them move back. The creaks and groans of the steel ramp could not go unnoticed. Especially in combination with the roaring beasts slowly moving towards them.

Once the final beast rolled off, another two followed, but they were much smaller. The front of which almost looked like an elongated shovel, with a massive inverted steel arm on the back. Both match the gray steel as the first two beasts. The sailors inside the cages masterfully work the controls. A delicate machine, for a skilled soldier. It was fascinating to watch.

The last machines that rolled down made Tywin question the design. Six small, six-wheeled carts rolled down. Each had a sailor stand next to holding a small metal rectangle, which had what appeared to be tiny levers. They would look from the cart and the rectangle every few seconds. The ‘carts’, if you could call them that, carried many objects and supplies, mainly different colored boxes. A few of them with red crosses on them. They were also followed by another group of Marines.

But these strange engines have something that they all have in common: they can somehow move without anything pulling them , not horses, not mules, not cattle, nothing. It was as if they were pulled by some sort of invisible power, one that is strong enough to move the engines that are just like their ship and flying carriages, mostly made of steel, which would certainly be heavier than usual carts built from wood.

“Such strange engines. What are they?” Lord Tyran asked no one in particular, walking to one of the small six-wheeled carts. Tywin inspected them as well. The design was interesting, to say the least. The front, if it had a front, looked almost like a boar.

“They are the ‘Multi-Utility Tactical Transport’, or MUTT for short. The Seabees are borrowing them from the Army. We never had a chance to test these guys outside of controlled test fields before The Storm. But now we do, so they will be helping us in our endeavor here in Lannisport. They can only go 10 miles per hour, but can hold up to two thousand pounds.” Kelly explained, as the Westerosi examined with child-like curiosity. 

“Fascinating, how are they controlled?”

“They are remotely operated by the sailor, but they do have a ‘follow the leader’ mode. So you don't have to worry about them so much.” 

“The same way the drones were operated, I presume?” Maester Lorwell questioned, writing down the new information.

“Precisely, Maester. Now, I can go on all day about the equipment that we have, but we have even more business that needs to be discussed. Let's leave the Seabees and Lord Commander to carry on to the town square.” She said, ready to keep the talks from getting any more distracted than they already were. 

“I believe that’s for the best. Lord Commander, take good care of our new guests.” Tywin ordered the Lord Commander. “Yes, my lord.” Torren gave his liege lord a bow and turned to the Commanders of the Seabees.

Lion’s Sea Step, Seabees, 1425 Hours, Nov 3rd, 2025

Ted and Andrew watched as the Captain, Ambassador Kelly, and the three Westerosi nobles and Maester made their way back to the canopy. The Lord Commander waited till they were out of earshot. “Very well, how do you wish we should do this?” He looked at Ted.

“We’ll form a column behind the MTVR s and Bobcats, their imposing presence can move the crowd to give a wide berth. Then have our guys and the MUTTs following behind with the Marines and your City Watch on security detail. Although we have weapons on our trucks that could handle any troublemakers, we would still like to cover all of our bases. Then, once we arrive in the Town square, we will unload and assess the building. Who are we expecting to meet there again?”

“The three stonemasons, along with the Watchmen who went looking for them, Commander. Also, it’s most likely word has gotten out about some form of the plan, so best to expect a crowd waiting for us there.”

“Understood, let's get these things underway.”

The road leading to the town's square was around sixteen feet wide. Since Lannisport was a major port in the Seven Kingdoms, the roads were double the normal width of eight feet to account for the heavy traffic of traders. Now normally, this wouldn’t be a problem for the MTVR s, but with the expected crowd, it will be a tight fit. The column would go with the MTVR s first, the Bobcats second, then the MUTTs third, with the Seabees following. Once the information was relayed to everyone, they set out.

“All hands, move out!” Commander Heisler ordered, Commander Collins repeated on the radio for the crews in the vehicles. He and a few others were to stay behind for the Poseidon 1-3 and join the rest later. The engines roared to life one after another. Their RPMs gained speed, the gears shifting with a thunk . The squealing of brakes eased as they went up to the slow, caterpillar speed that was desired, all the while the gunners on top of the cab kept their eyes peeled for any sign of trouble. 

With the order given, Jenny and her fellow sailors said their goodbyes to the children who crowded together to meet them. One or two are still eating the fruits that were given, Boric whipping the juice of the peach that Jenny had given him. Boric was saddened to see this “Jenny” woman leave, so he followed them. He tried to match her speed, which he was only able to do in little trots since his legs were small. She was at the front of the column, her eyes forward, but once she noticed him and his friends following, she smiled at Boric once more. 

On either side of the road were littered with shops and hovels, workshops, and metalworking. All normally busy on your average day, but today was not exactly average. Everyone from customers to shopkeepers were outside in the street watching. Watching as the rumors had suggested, strangers from a faraway land came their way. Except for the strange noises coming from their contraptions, the street was quiet, mostly from astonished curiosity rather than anything else.

Ted was walking along behind the MUTTs, talking to one of the sailors, and taking into account the supplies neatly, tightly packed and fastened. From the corner of his left eye, he saw the children from the pier earlier. Huh, I guess we already won some ‘Hearts and Minds’. An idea then came to him to further win those ‘Hearts and Minds’.

Boric and his friends were trying to keep up, but the constant pace was difficult. Jenny was trying to be encouraging when her superior, a man whom Boric cannot remember the name of, other than what one of the sailors called him: “Maverick”, looked at him and his friends, then back at Jenny. Both of them then spoke to each other, but the noise from those massive metal carts made it difficult to know what they were talking about. 

Then the “Maverick” looked at the kids and gestured for them to follow. Jenny smiled and did the same gesture. With their innocence that could only come from a child, and the caution that disappeared at the tasting of the fruit, they followed. The “Maverick” and Jenny lead them to the six-wheel carts. To Boric's surprise, Jenny lifts the boy with ease onto the self-moving carts. Scared at first, like any sane person would in this situation. But hearing her soft, soothing voice of reassurance, he calmed down.

It was like riding a horse, or at least what Boric imagined what it was like to ride one. His family never had the coin or even the need for a horse, but he had always wished to ride one. Once, he asked a City Watchman to let him ride his horse, even for a second. But the cruel man told him to, and I quote, “Fuck off you filthy fishmonger gutter rat.” His mother had to stay with him that whole night as he cried. Making promises for when the next festival came to Lannisport, he would get to ride a pony. But he had ridden a mangy pony before; it wouldn’t be the same.

He looked for his friends to see that other sailors were helping them as well onto the carts. There were smiles and laughs from everyone. Even the Lord Commander himself laughed. Boric had never seen the Lannister man laugh before. 

The stress of the whole column vanished after that. Even the onlookers began to loosen up a little. Many followed, asking questions, “Who are you?” “What land do you come from?” “Where are your weapons? I don’t see any swords.” “What are those?”. So many answers, so many questions.

Lion’s Sea Step, Meeting, 1430 Hours, Nov 3rd, 2025

As the final members of Tywin's group made their way inside the canopy, he noticed that the table had been cleaned off of their guests' right servings. Where once their plates had been, appeared to be large, thin books. They were brown leather, smooth, almost silk-like. Gold lettering was imprinted with “Receiver's Copy,” and the bottom was more gold lettering but smaller, “Made in the United States of America,” and a design of an eagle in a circle with one claw holding a branch and the other arrows. The head of it was towards the branch.

“What’s this? My Lady?” Tywin questioned as he sat down.

“This? This is everything that we will discuss over the next few days.” She sat and flipped the book open to reveal several pages. Tywin followed suit, the same snow-white paper that he was first introduced to earlier this morning sat inside. The writing was as exquisite as expected. 

“This stack of papers includes many ideas and suggestions to strengthen our ties with the Westerlands. Things such as USAID Humanitarian Centers, an American Exposition Festival to introduce our products to the Westerlands and eventually the greater continent, laying of submarine cables between our country and Westerlands, as well as introducing public health measures to combat disease and to improve life expectancy  among others.” She then looked to the Lannister of Lannisport.

“There’s also a proposal of talks between you, Lord Tyran, to the SSA Marine company for the possibility of expanding or building a port in Lannisport to our standard, just a mile outside the city center, to facilitate more commodities and resources exchange into the region.”

Both Tywin and Tyran wanted to question more of the details that were in front of them on the paper, but Kelly kept going. “As well as properly introducing ourselves to your king, King Robert Baratheon, the first of his name.”

“We also want to look at your maps so we can introduce ourselves to the other major houses of the Seven Kingdoms and build proper trade relations with the regions that they control. That way, we can build Westeros’ economy to become our true trading partners. With this in mind, we expect the country as a whole to reach its full potential in about fifty to sixty years. Of course, if everything goes well.”

Kelly was firing on all cylinders, steering the discussion into a more “manageable manner” that she, and in turn the United States, could control. 

Yes, they could always just grab them by the arm and twist till they hear a snap, but that only causes resistance from the Great Houses and, in turn, the general populace. Especially since some lords like the Starks and, incidentally, the Tyrells are genuinely beloved by their common subjects. “Hearts and Minds,” the President told her before departing from Norfolk.

“ Hearts and Minds ”

Chapter Text

“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”

-Arthur C. Clarke

Lion’s Sea Step, Pier, 12:35 pm, Nov 3rd, 2025

Staff Sergeant Jeremy Moore watched as the Ambassador, Captain, and Lord Tywin’s group made their way to the canopy. Captain Green followed while carrying a large trunk. Jeremy gives him a questioning look, What's inside?

The Captain just shrugged, “Sergeant, I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not that heavy, just around 100/120 pounds, give or take.”

“Understood, Sir. Will we be meeting you inside?” Jeremy jabbed a thumb at the USS Savannah.

“Yep, I have a call to make to Captain Anderson. Have some questions about Harpy-3.”

“Understood, I’ll make sure the Mess saves you some of that ‘Mud Cake’.”

“Can’t wait now.” The men return to their duties. The Staff Sergeant makes his way to the group of nobles. Their eyes wandered at the warship. The Lords with war experiences on their belts, including the Greyjoy Rebellion veterans, now had the shining eyes of a child on Christmas morning. It was clear, never in their lives had they seen a ship made entirely of metal, let alone inside of it, so Jeremy could already guess what would be in their minds;

How in the Seven Hells did this castle-sized hunk of steel even float in the first place? The Smith Himself must bless the blacksmiths and shipwrights who forged her. Or something similar, at least.

The Ladies, meanwhile, are gossiping amongst themselves. Some even slightly pointed at his fellow Marines, mainly the guys, but even some of the gals got the receiving end of the noble ladies’ stare. It’s not that the male nobles are innocent, either, with many of them staring at his sisters in arms. But he noticed that there are some looks of disapproval as well, possibly stemming from beliefs that women on ships mean bad luck, as they can distract the male crew members. He rolled his eyes at that thought. Lack of discipline.

One thing that he noticed was their clothes. After years of Hollywood movies and TV shows about this era, his expectations were of the following: dirt, grime, foul smells, lack of hygiene, and more. Clothes made of anything that looked and felt like sandpaper, dyed in mainly dark colors such as brown, gray, very discolored white, some even outright black. Maybe, just MAYBE, some silks, but only reserved for royalty. But what he saw right now was a nice change of pace.

Vibrant colors, mostly reds and golds, but also greens, blues, yellows, pinks, violets, and orange colors silks are all around. Almost everyone was wearing soft-looking silks, leathers, cottons, and furs. Especially the Ladies, their fine threads all had some sort of fur on, most likely taken from rabbit, elk, and fox. On the other hand, it also looks very expensive, over-tailored, and in some way, even impractical. It’s no wonder that many movies and TV shows, including Game of Thrones itself, choose to downplay such shows of extravagance.

Another reason was to make it seemingly more believable; some of the design techniques seemed only possible with machines. As they say, reality is often stranger than fiction. The tailors must be stars in their fields to do some of the designs, which is to be expected; these people are nobles after all. One of the ladies looked like a flamboyant peacock that took a lot of acid in the 70s, and then was let loose in a fabric and sewing supply store. Heh, best not let Sue know about this. I’ll go bankrupt! Susan, AKA Sue, is his wife; they have two kids with a third on the way.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, I am Staff Sergeant Jeremy Moore, and I will be accompanying you during your time on the Savannah. If you would follow me, please.” He leads the nobles up the side ramp into the large Mission Bay. As they make their way, a young nobleman makes his way next to the Staff Sergeant. The man wore the sigil of blue with crimson and gold, with 3 silver ships in the middle of the blue.

“My Lord,” the young man started to say, his voice on the softer end. Like a singer, but Jeremy stopped him.

“One thing before we get aboard. My official rank is Staff Sergeant, and my name is Jeremy Moore, not Lord Jeremy, Lord Moore, and not even Ser Moore. None of us are Lords, Ladies, or Sers here; we have no such titles. Is that going to be a problem?” He looked at them all, the incline of the ramp made them all look up to him.

They looked at one another, some in subtle disgust, some in equally subtle shock, while others just shook their heads. “Good, sorry for interrupting you, Lord Ser… What is your name again?”

“Ser Jace Farman, a sworn knight of House Farman of Faircastle. My father is Sebaston Farman, Lord of Fair Isle.” The boy said. Jeremy studied this boy; he looked no older than sixteen or seventeen by Jeremy’s guess. “Very well. What was your question, Ser Jace?” He started to walk the ramp again, and the rest followed suit.

“I am quite interested in this ship, the Savannah, you called it, yes?”

“That is correct, officially the USS Savannah.”

“And what type is she? Of course, we have never seen such a ship before. Thus, I wish to know all about it and inquire about the possibility of getting two. Or just one, if at all possible, to protect Fair Isle from the savagery of the Ironborn reavers.” They made the final step into the mission bay, but before he could respond, someone else responded for him.

“I am so sorry to disappoint you, Ser Jace, but this ship is a vital component to ensure the security of our waters, so she is not for sale, nor any of her sister ships. But I can tell you that she is one of nineteen Independence-class littoral combat ships in service of the United States Navy.” The voice was deep, modulated, and feminine. A tall, slender woman stood in front of them in Naval fatigues. Her hair was jet black, tightly curled in a bun.

In response, another nobleman then raises his hand with an indignant expression. This noble is considerably older than Ser Jace… and has the ever recognizable blond hair and mustache. There’s also the fact that he’s wearing a gold and red cloak.

“And no, not even stones of gold would make us change our mind.” The woman responds firmly to the Lannister nobleman, which makes him lower his hand in shame as Jace gets a good look at her.

She was 4 inches taller than Jeremy was, just at Lord Tywin's height, and he was a rather tall man, which makes her the tallest woman Jace and likely other Westerosi nobles have ever seen by default. There’s also the fact that she has unmistakably Yitish physical features. Judging from his raised eyebrows, Jace was likely thinking; They said that they are located in the far West, yet lots of their people look awfully Eastern.

“Commander,” Jeremy and the nearby Marines and sailors gave her a hard salute, and she gave it back. “Ser Jace, this is Commander Yuna Choi, the Executive Officer to Captain Webb of the Savannah. Think of her as the first mate of Captain Webb, so she’s the one responsible for this ship when he’s not available.”

“I see. It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady… I mean Commander Yuna Choi.” Ser Jace bows in respect; he butchers the name a little, but it doesn't bother her. After all, even her fellow Americans get her name wrong sometimes. The other nobles also give her the same sort of greeting.

The Staff Sergeant walks over to brief this Eastern-looking Commander. Giving some breathing room for the nobles to take in their surroundings. The closest word that describes the massive space they are standing in is a ballroom. From floor to ceiling, it appeared to be twenty-twenty five feet. Bright white sticks illuminated the room, their unnatural glow confusing the Lords.

Opposite them sits a massive metal structure, its feet having four wheels, yellow with black markings. A few soldiers wearing yellow jackets stood near, examining it.

A Lord questioned the device's purpose as Commander Choi explained their activities for the day. She gave a simple explanation of the crane and how it operates. “Now, I know you all have a lot of questions. We will answer them in due time. For now, let's begin the tour. If you all would follow me.”

She leads the group over to six steel, navy blue containers. Two rows of three, standing at about eight and a half feet tall, eight feet wide, and twenty feet long. On the backs of them are tubes and pipes connected with quick disconnects. She explained that they are “Modular Living Quarters”, or “MLQs” for short. Each can hold up to twelve people comfortably, fifteen uncomfortably. They are also equipped with something called a “Shower”, a “Sink”, and a “Toilet”.

Knocking first, two Marines open the large, heavy-looking doors with surprising ease to show the nobles. When the doors were fully open, brighter white lights illuminated the living space. It was quite spacious by Westerosi standards. Each bunk bed had its own curtain to give the occupant some semblance of privacy. Three ventilation fans are built into the ceiling for maximum air flow.

There was space for belongings under the beds, and a small ladder to climb up. Many of the walls for the beds had pictures of many different things, scenery of home, family, friends, lovers, and a few “sexy” model pinups. Jeremy made a mental note to have a “stern” talk to those Marines.

One of the Lords, an older man, about sixty years old, lay down on one of the unclaimed beds. “By the Seven. It's like lying on a cloud.” A few more joined him and gave similar responses.

After leaving the “MLQs”, Commander Choi planned on showing them the machine shop. But was interrupted by muffled pounding. Thump Whack Pop Shack Boop

The sound was coming from the makeshift gym that had been installed for the Marines’ downtime. But it appears one of them didn’t get the memo about the tour. At around five foot, five inches in height, she’s certainly on the short side but can easily compete to most men when it comes muscle mass, she wore a green sleeveless top that was a little too tight for her, black shorts that were just below her fingertips if her arms were to her sides, and she wore black sneakers. She was boxing and kicking a large, padded, cylindrical object hanging from a chain. Sweat could be seen dripping from her trained body, pooling on the padded ground. Her smooth, chestnut brown hair weaves with each hook and jab.

Jeremy could already hear the ass chewing both were gonna get. For him, about not keeping his fellow Sergeant in line. And for her, not fucking paying attention to the briefing and her surroundings.

She was bouncing around the punching bag like a grasshopper, left, right, left. She made her way around now, facing the group. Her final kick stopped half an inch from the pad. On one leg, she looked like she had seen a ghost. Jeremy, his head in his hands, Commander Choi’s eyes pierced her, not in anger, just disappointment, and some of the nobles were aghast at what they were looking at.

Quickly and clumsily, she stood at attention, taking her earbuds out. You could still subtly hear “Abracadabra” by Lady Gaga before cutting themselves off. The sweat still ran down her exposed skin.

For Ser Jace, she was another Eastern-looking woman, but her face was different from Commander Choi's. A younger Lady, maybe the same age as the knight, broke the silence. “My Lady, is that your sister?”

Jeremy's blood went cold at that, mainly just the young noblewoman’s straightforwardness toward a superior officer.

Commander Choi laughed at that, “No, she is not. We may look the same. I'm Korean, she’s Japanese. I’m from California, she’s from Washington. Big differences. Staff Sergeant, care to introduce them?”

He gave a nod, “This is Staff Sergeant Shino Chase Forrest. Staff Sergeant Forrest, these are the nobles of the Westerlands.”

One thing of note that Ser Jace saw about this “Shino” was her bust rivaled, if not exceeded, that of Lady Crakehall. He wondered if the bust inconveniences her, especially with the kind of activity she’s doing now. Lady Crakehall herself at this moment was standing next to him, and she noticed the same thing as well. A match for the ages, I suspect.

Shino introduced herself and apologized for her informality. Making up as many excuses as she could think of. Of course, she was panicking on the inside. くそ、くそ、くそ (Kuso, kuso, kuso or Shitshitshit). I knew I should have double-checked the orders for today. But no, I had to watch 8 episodes of “Black Lagoon”. Fuck! Oh well, there goes that promotion.

The Commander and Staff Sergeant went on with their tour of the gym, embarrassed a little, yes. But the nobles were too preoccupied, “examining” the sergeant, to care. They were given some time to look around the gym and examine the equipment. Five of the Ladies were more interested in Shino herself. Shino didn’t notice them walk over to her as she wiped the sweat off her body.

She just finished whipping her leg when she noticed colorful dresses behind her. They seemed to be more curious about her than anything else. Two were about early to mid-teens, one of whom was the same one who had asked if she was the commander's sister. There’s also an old woman, maybe in her sixties, but it was hard to tell; she could be way older. The last two, one was about her age, the other was in her late twenties, early thirties, with brown hair and black hair. She did, of course, notice the one that had a bust almost as good as hers… Almost.

The teenagers introduced themselves as Lady Jocelyn Banefort of House Banefort, thirteen years of age, and Lady Mary Drox of House Drox, sixteen years of age. The older woman turned out to be in her mid-forties. Shino’s shock was visible on her face, but the woman seemed to take no offense. She merely laughed it off, saying that she was quite, how to put this, “extravagant” in her youth. However, with a mix of sickness and ill health, her appearance took a few hits, but she was now healthy and happy. She introduced herself as Lady Mera Estern of House Estern of Wyndhall.

The brown haired one introduced herself as Lady Marla Brax of House Brax. Out of the five women standing in front of her, she wore a slim dress, almost modern in design. Silver with areas of purple, a choice of color that already says a lot about their social status, and a unicorn was embroidered in the middle of her stomach area. The artwork was stunning, all of them wore their House colors. And last, but not least, the graciously “gifted” Lady Daisy Crakehall of House Crakehall. She was formerly of House Oakheart before marrying a Lord of Crakehall some years ago.

Once the introductions were done, Shino was still surprised they were interested in her; she thought she might have “intimidated” them.

“No, no, Lady Shino, on the contrary. We wish to know more about you, and to keep the men from… undressing you with their eyes, if you understand. But the fact that you’re wearing those…threads in the first place shows us that you’re not too bothered by it, but that only makes us even more curious about your people. If you don’t mind, that is.” Lady Mera explained with her soft, sweet voice, like a mother or grandmother would have. They explained they were intrigued by how she ended up in the Marines, her upbringing, and more importantly, her workout clothes she was wearing.

“Are you this ship's Sailor Wife?” The youngest one asked abruptly, Lady Jocelyn Banefort, who was only thirteen, mind you. “Because I heard from my Septa that the Ironborn reavers have these ‘salt wives’, women who they steal fr-”. Flick “Ow,” Lady Marla Brax flicked her on the ear.

“Well then, young lady! If you heard that from your Septa, then she should have also taught you to mind your manners! Forgive her, Lady Shino; she clearly needs to be disciplined more. Apologies at once!” Lady Jocelyn bowed and apologized.

“Uhh. If I understand your meaning, then no, I am not the Savannah's “Sailor Wife”.” Shino knew she meant “whore”; she wasn't really surprised at the question. Especially since for this era of history, having women on ships was considered “taboo” and whatnot. Stupid superstitious crap. She went on to explain her role in the Marines as a Staff Sergeant.

As she was explaining, she noticed Lady Daisy Crakehall using her hand on her back; she knew that motion too well. “You alright?” The other ladies all looked at her. She was embarrassed but explained that her back and chest were always sore. A pain that Shino herself can sympathize with, after all, there’s the nickname of “Muscle Cow” that she had within the Marines. The dress had to be put on tightly and carefully, not only due to how it was designed, but also at her husband's request.

Shino rolled her eyes at that, forcing this poor woman to basically have her torso be put into a vise just for his personal satisfaction; the fact that they share the same physical burden also irks her a bit. She went on and explained that she was happy to do it, with the standards of marriage and all. This gave Shino an idea.

She went to Staff Sergeant Jeremy and Commander Choi, explaining the idea for a cultural exchange in clothing that was in the containers for trade on the USS Savannah. The two agreed with her proposal. The three then explained the proposal to the Westerosi group; the five women would go with Shino, and everyone else would continue on with the tour. As to why the rest of the women won’t go? The rest were clearly uncomfortable, or downright disgusted with Shino’s attire, and took her for a whore, so they declined.

So, after Shino cleaned up, of course, and put on her proper green Marine Corps Combat Utility Uniform (MCCUU), they proceeded with the plan and split into two groups. Shino and the girls, plus a Marine or two as their escorts, both being women, went to the storage area. The others made their way to their next section. The Machine-Shop.

The Machine Shop is a section of the area, further up towards the bow. A closed-off room filled a thirty-by-twenty-foot section. No windows except for safety glass on the doors, two rectangles about the width of your forearm and two feet in height. Both of which were tinted. The room had more tubes and ventilation. A muffled noise could be heard coming from inside. As to what the noise was, none of the nobles present could say.

Commander Choi knocked, no answer. She knocked again, still no answer. She and Jeremy pushed open the doors, which were heavier than they looked, letting out the noise. It was ear-retching to the Westerosis.

Suddenly, they were greeted by El Sonidito music's beat, accompanied by the sound of metal on metal. High-powered tools moving back and forth, like a symphony of torture. Meanwhile, upbeat music was playing on a large speaker set on a table. Tools sat neatly on the table and walls, each separated by purpose and strapped down in case of bad weather at sea. But to the nobles, it looked like a torture chamber.

“Warrant Officer Rodriguez… Warrant Officer Rodriguez!” The Commander called the man, but he didn’t hear her. He was hunched over a table, moving an angle grinder back and forth. Sparks were flying all over the place. He appeared to have something in his ears and some sort of half-helm covering his face.

Flicking the lights on and off quickly got the man's attention. The tool stopped its awful noise along with the sparks. He turned to look at them, a skull was painted on the front of the helm in vibrant colours. He quickly lifted it, revealing his face with a smile. It was round, like a fruit, to Jace, the man looked to be Braavosi, Dornish, or at least from the Free Cities of Essos.

He stood up straight, took whatever was in his ears out, and went to whatever strange device on the table and stopped the music.

“Commander Choi! Staff Sergeant Moore! Hola!” He said, giving the Commander a salute. “What can I do for you? And who are they?” He said, pointing to the nobles. “Ah, so they’re the ones from land? For the tour, I reckon?” The Commander nodded.

Jeremy went and introduced Ser Jace and his fellow nobles to the man. He appeared to be about five feet ten inches. Black hair cut short, dark brown eyes, and a friendly smile.

“Allow me to introduce you all to Chief Warrant Officer 4 Diego Valera Rodriguez. He is the ship's Engineering Technician and primarily works on the repairs and maintenance. He also often assists with our vehicle’s maintenance as well.”

They marvel at the man and their surroundings. Ser Jace remembered the Staff Sergeant saying that an “Engineering Technician” was something like a blacksmith, but “more advanced,” he said. He didn’t understand what he meant until now. Old Samwell, the Reachman blacksmith at Faircastle, would act like the Mad Maid of Oldtown with all the tools and equipment in the modest building.

He watched as Warrant Officer Rodriguez went to a small white box underneath a table and swung open a door, and pulled out… A small red cup? The top was silver, and on the sides were black markings, and it was made of metal. What's Coca-Cola?

Instead of just standing there silent, he asked him. “Excuse me, Officer Rodriguez. But what is a Coca-Cola?”

“Oh, this?” He moved his hand to the top and with a swift motion, crack pop, the cup made a sound of a neck cracking and a fizzing noise. “This is a drink. It’s a soda can of Coke, it has caffeine, sugar, and, uhhhhh… I don't know how to explain it. Here, just try it yourself.” He hands Jace the “Can” and grabs himself another.

“Cheers,” he clinks the can in his hand and drinks. The first thing Jace noticed was how cold the can was, almost like a winter morning. It was nice on the hands, almost too cold. Is this some kind of wine? And is there ice in that white box? In the summer? Why do they act like it is no big deal? Jace can only wonder.

He lifted the small hole to his lips and poured the liquid in his mouth, bracing himself for something equivalent to ale. But all he got was something else entirely, something better, much better!

”By the Seven! It’s so sweet! And what is this stingy sensation?” He begins to chug the substance down. Almost throwing up from the bubbles forming in his mouth. Burping a few times, he tried to hold it back like a well-mannered knight, of course. His eyes wide, almost bulging, he looks too Diego. His eyes glistening, “I must have more. Please!” He’s shaking the man now, his fellow nobles now quite curious themselves, ask to try this… “Coca-Cola”.

As you could imagine, they all go frantic with delight. The taste was so sweet, even for a noble who had the best access to sugars from the Summer Isles, nothing in their mind could compare to it. No wine, no beer, no ale, nothing.

They all, including the Commander and Staff Sergeant, drank Diego's supply of ice-cold soda. The Technician had spare cases, but seeing how the nobles reacted to it, he decided to keep that fact to himself, like a leprechaun and his gold.

Jeremy had to swear that there would be more in the mess hall. Saying their goodbyes, Diego goes back to his work, maintaining and cleaning the ship’s electrical and mechanical components. They had to move on to the next section of their tour. The Hangar Bay.

The flight crews stood around a wall-mounted TV. Normally, they would be prepping their aircraft for the next assignment. But with the air patrols from the Lincoln, they had some downtime. So they decided to check on things back home.

Sure enough, things weren’t looking too good.

ABC: After DEFCON 2 was declared, the National Guard is currently undertaking one of its largest mobilizations in US history as multiple protests and riots are overwhelming the following major cities: Los Angeles, Chicago, New Orleans, Houston, Atlanta, Denver, Baltimore, New York City, etc, with cases of looting and ransacking also reported to take place in those cities. While the complaints from the interviewed protesters were mainly fuel and food rationing, the main cause of the unrest is believed to be societal panic, confusion, and fear after the transfer. A few protesters in Houston have been seen holding up signs that said “Rapture is imminent! There’s time to repent!”.

As you can see, this transfer causes a no end of religious and spiritual crisis among many Americans, with religious communities and denominations debating on the true meaning of the Transfer and even what they are going to do afterwards, sometimes at the expense of the other. This crisis can be attributed to the fact that both The Storm and the Transfer were not written in any major religious scriptures. One notable incident occurred during the New York City protests, where members of Catholic, Muslim, and Jewish communities were clashing against each other in Brooklyn due to their opposing views on the events. Nobody knows for sure who started it, but the clash caused no shortage of property damage and injuries before they were forcibly dispersed by the NYPD and National Guard.

FOX News: The Dow Jones takes another plummet of 500 points today, with news of mass layoff spreading throughout the business world. Wall Street is in chaos, with at least 65 companies listed on Nasdaq having declared bankruptcies or forced to merge to keep themselves afloat after their workers, markets, and supply chains were cut off by the Transfer. Resulting in no less than 2.65 trillion dollars lost from halted trade and manufacturing. So far, 3 lives have been lost in the stock exchange, and autopsies have said one was from suicide, and the other two from stress-induced heart attacks. Nonetheless, this is one of the greatest economic crises ever faced by our country, and it could very well spiral into another catastrophe even worse than the Great Depression if someone doesn’t put their foot down.

In other news, the Government finally decided to take action against the biggest national security threat to our country: the Fentanyl narcoterrorism. Just earlier this week, Operation Decisive Dawn was authorized in which brave men and women from the DEA, FBI, and the National Guard commence series of simultaneous raids against hundreds of Cartel’s sites all across the country, including in New Mexico, Arizona, California, Texas, Louisiana, Florida, even as far as Illinois, West Virginia, New York, and Montana after their lifelines to Mexico and China were cut off.

In this operation, the federal agents managed to arrest more than 10,000 narcoterrorists and seize around 12.5 billion dollars worth of Fentanyl, meth, and other dangerous drugs, drugs that would flood our streets if not for the efforts of our brave agents and servicemen. One raid even has DEA agents cornering Cartel terrorists inside a cross-border tunnel that has collapsed on the other end. You see, folks, this is how wars were won, this is how our great country won the War on Drugs.

MSNBC: Early reports of mass disappearances of individuals in bunkers turned out to be false. The cause? Radiation interference with video surveillance. The reason is still unknown, but for now, all unused stadiums for today’s dignitary meeting are to be set up for the non-criminal foreigners, legal and illegal alike, stranded from their home nations. Most of them were registered or claimed to be from Pan-American countries like Mexico, Canada, the Caribbean, Honduras, El Salvador, Guatemala, Colombia, Argentina, and Brazil. Others came from countries like the United Kingdom, the EU, Ukraine, Turkey, Israel, the GCC, the African Union, India, China, Japan, South Korea, Taiwan, ASEAN, Australia, New Zealand, etc. We also have reports that refugees and asylum seekers from Russia, Belarus, Venezuela, Cuba, Haiti, Syria, Iran, Sudan, Afghanistan, and Myanmar were also affected.

The government is still compiling a list of nationalities as to why the non-asylum seekers stayed here and did not return to their home nations? Many said that they stayed with family, while others for work and new opportunities, but there are rumors about special Five Eyes, NATO, and MNNA programs. But so far, things are still unconfirmed. Nevertheless, due to demands for a new workforce, measures were being implemented to fast-track the green card registration of these stranded foreigners with the cooperation of the already existing diasporas, and if they were so inclined, to induct them as official US citizens. There are even talks of restarting former President Bush’s initiative for non-citizens to be able to expedite their citizenship applications by serving in the US military.

CNN: Efforts to utilize the oil reservoirs and other resources in Canadian and Mexican lands found from archives were further complicated by reports of missing individuals who ventured beyond the borders. One individual, Ernest Whistler of Luna County, New Mexico, said his neighbor went over the border and didn’t return. He said he heard screams and thought he saw something large and “furry” wandering the plains. Meanwhile, in southern Texas, communities near the borders reported that their crops had been ransacked by a herd of unusual animals from the other side. One town even reported large creatures that looked like a hornless rhino with strange teeth.

Similar reports are also coming in from Whatcom County, Washington, about large elephant-like beasts lingering in the forests of the former Canada. While one lakeside household near Rochester, New York, also reported that a large beaver-like creature was intruding on their house, said creature was now under the custody of local police. Ecological anomalies were reported as well, with further analysis of satellite images and field reports from surveyors in Alaska, California, and Texas revealing that new steppes and prairies had emerged within the no man’s land. In response, the already alarmed CBP and National Guard warn that the borders are off-limits until further notice. Some state governments even advise citizens to arm themselves with high-caliber hunting rifles. If you see something. Say something.

CBS: Reports on Capitol Hill suggest that federal and state lawmakers are struggling to form committees to take on the crisis, and in the process, resulting in cases of shouting matches and even outright physical fights. Two senators who don't want to be named are reported to have been sent to the hospital. Video has been leaked of a fist fight between the two on the steps of the Capitol, which appeared to be an argument on the foreign debt to the nations of Earth. The argument got heated to the point of one striking first before spiraling into a fistfight and falling down the stairs leading to the Hill. The senators were fighting until they were separated by Capitol Police, who then called for an ambulance. This is the first federal case of similar court infighting all across America after the previous brawls at Minnesota, Georgia, Florida, and Colorado state capitols.

Garble Garble

One of the on-hand radios went off, as to what was said, that was for the officer in charge to know, but it was clear someone was coming. The lift had been activated.

Beep Beep Beep Vrrrrr

The lift to the hangar bay from below slowly moved up to them. “Get a move on, we're having company.” Click TVs are now off.

“The Tigress of Savannah is coming for a visit. And she's brought friends.”

Why the name? Well, let's just say when you mess with a tigress’ cubs, her claws and fangs would be the last thing you feel. De-Classification Date: 2045, Pacific resource battle. Early days: 1 KPN Destroyer Class Unknown, 2 Grisha-class corvettes, 1 Nanuchka-class corvette, 1 Dolgorukiy-class submarine, 2 Kilo-class submarines. Five hundred crewmen. No survivors.

With this in mind, you can understand the name.

Back to the group, marveling at the craftsmanship of the lift. When questioned about its capacity, the closest thing that they could compare is the lift at The Wall, which can only carry ten to fifteen men at a time, if they are average weight for their time, of course. This lift, on the other hand, could lift ten to fifteen times that amount, easily. Such technology, if we can have this in our castle… Ser Jace wondered.

With the final clunk, the lift locked in place. As the lift door opened, Jeremy explained that the hangar bay was a sort of horse stable for the helicopters, where they are repaired and refilled, and standard wear and tear is dealt with on a day-to-day basis. Of course, it was at least 3 to 5 times larger than a regular castle’s stables. However, a certain young knight notices something else.

Ser Jace couldn’t help but notice the strange feeling in the hangar; it wasn't a cautious feeling, more of a concern mixed with dread and worry. It worries him a great deal since he’d seen a similar thing when the ravens carrying news of the burning fleet in Lannisport reached Faircastle. He asked what was going on to one of the sailors, a woman, about 5 feet 6 inches, with grease stains on her uniform, hands, and face. She was using a small silver tool and a large iron-looking box.

She looked at him, then at the others around. When no one was in earshot, all she said was this. “Look, I can’t tell you much, pal, but I will say this. We got some news from our homeland. And it isn’t pretty.” She went back to her work. All this did was confuse Jace. What could be happening in their realm?

Jeremy gathered the nobles like a sheep herder to their next, and final location, before they are able to eat. The Bridge.

The Integrated Command & Control bridge was calm, calmer than it had been in years. Every sailor performed his or her task in silence. Only speaking about vocational work in system normalcy. The senior enlisted leader of the ship, Senior Chief Petty Officer Jake Hughs, just came from the head, upper hands quickly drying from being washed.

“Status report.” He asked no one in particular, sitting in the captain's chair. His tea was still hot.

“All quiet, nothing on sonar or radar, besides the patrols from the Lincoln off the coast ten miles from here. Nada, zero, not even a civilian radio signal.” A seawoman to his right said, she scanned her screens once more for clarification, “Still not used to there being no traffic. Kinda creepy.”

“As to be expected, medieval world and all.” He took a sip of his tea. The door to his rear leading to the inner workings of the ship is unlocked with a Cuchunk from the opposite side. As it opens, Commander Choi walks through, along with Staff Sergeant Jeremy.

“Commander on deck!” Jake yells, and everyone, including him, stands up at attention.

“At ease, we have the tour group with us. Mind showing them the ropes, Jake?”

“Aye aye, Ma’am.” He gives her a nod and a smile. Watching as the twenty walk through the safety door, a few of them having their feet get stuck and almost tripping. With them settled, he went through and explained that a bridge functions like a quarterdeck where the captain commands the ship and the helmsman moves it. He then gave them a “basic” rundown of the ship's operation and functions. The simple steering functions, with knobs and switches. What was interesting were the chairs, cushioned to the captain and XO’s preference, each bolted to the floor and on a basic rail system to move forward and back.

Each key is backlit with white light for night operations. Thankfully, Jake remembered to switch everything off for the station so the nobles could “mess” with the tools and buttons. Unsurprisingly, they did, like cats to a new toy, including nobles from coastal houses who are otherwise highly experienced in seafaring. Some even asked on-duty sailors on the bridge many sorts of questions, which they answered with varying degrees of enthusiasm, mostly since most of them are too busy with their duties.

What even are these… glasses? Thank the gods, Lady Choi prevented me from buying this ship. Otherwise, our House would need an entire army of Maesters just to make sense of it. Ser Jace is internally relieved as he scratches his head at the sight of screen displays and buttons that control the ship.

The young Faircastle knight then went to the window and looked out towards Lannisport; no matter how many times he had this kind of view from his House’s ships, it was still as immaculate as ever. He looked to the forward bow stern, and on it was something very peculiar. He had noticed it when he arrived, but never gave much thought. It was about the size of a four-person carriage, with a tube about fourteen feet long sticking out of it. It looked to sit on something circular built into the ship.

“See something interesting, kid?” Jake questioned the young knight, almost startling him.

“Yes, what is that?” He points to the Mk 110 57 mm Naval Auto cannon. He could see the curiosity in his eyes, almost glistening.

“That? That is the ship's Autocannon. We nicknamed her “Big Susan”. She has saved many lives throughout her service. Including my own, twice actually, both in the Pacific. Can't tell you where, sorry.” Jake then had an idea of his own. “Commander Choi,” he called to his superior, “mind if I show off 'Big Susan’? No live fire, of course, just a demonstration of how she can move?”

She thought for a second, then shrugged, “I don’t see why not, Senior Chief. Show’em how she dances.” Jake grinned at that and took over the gun controls.

“Aye aye, ma’am. Now then, Ladies and Gentlemen, please come over to the window and look at the forward bow stern, we have a show for you.”

They all went in mild curiosity and watched as the cannon began to swivel. First 90 degrees to the left, then 180 to the right, then 90 forward, then finally a 360 with the cannon moving up and down. Jake got a laugh and awe out of them, then got another idea.

Down on the pier, two City Watchmen are on guard and couldn't help but watch the whole event unfold. Once the thing stopped moving, they went back to their conversation. “So, as I was saying, this lass came over to me right. Clearly, she’s had too much Ale from her last client, and then she…”

“It's staring at you…”

“What?”

“It’s. Staring. At. You.”

“Holy Seven!”

Looking over his shoulder, he sees the long tube pointed directly at him. No noise, no movement. Just staring at them... Menacingly. This goes on for a solid minute before they slowly walk away, keeping their eyes on the thing. It followed their movements before they turned and ran to the city.

This got a few laughs from the Lords, but the ladies thought it was cruel. When a Lannister nobleman, the one with a blond mustache, asked to see its full function, the Commander had to step in. “My apologies, we are not authorized to do so unless in self-defense. But I am sure in due time we will be able to give you all a "demonstration". Now, if everyone would follow me.”

The Lannister was disappointed; he had hoped it was like the ballistas that are used on their ships, but more powerful. But he would have to wait, as their next stop is The Mess Hall.

Chapter Text

[Author: Here’s part two, Woohoo! One thing I would like to note is that I’m going to try written dialect. So when I put down something about accents, just work with me and try to pretend it's in said accent. Thank you, Enjoy!]

“Cultural differences should not separate us from each other, but rather cultural diversity brings a collective strength that can benefit all of humanity.”

-Robert Alan

USS Savannah , Mess Hall, 1:15 pm, Nov 3rd, 2025

The mess hall of the Savannah was peaceful, but not quiet. Kitchen staff are finishing the final preparations on their dishes. With the importance of first impressions, they were given access to the highest quality ingredients for the trip over. So to say that everything the crew ate during the two days on the water was fantastic would be an understatement.

Steel tables and chairs occupied the decently sliced hall. Around ten to fifteen at a table. Drink machines and coffee dispensers with a generous selection lined one wall, accompanied by condiments and silverware for food. In the cornermost table, sit two men, and what appears to be a small animal sleeping on a chair. A soft blanket rested for the creature so it would not get cold from the steel.

Hunched over, back turned towards the entrance. Leon “Orfevre” Müller, a Swiss-born, was tall, long-faced, fair-skinned, blonde-haired. His green eyes focused on the golden ring he was finalizing the detail on. A gift for the lady of Golden Keep. Not knowing who occupied the castle from the drone missions, it was decided on a simple flower shape, encrusted in red gems. It was the reason why he was brought on the expedition in the first place, to help impress the Lannister nobles using his goldsmithing skills that earned Leon not only his nickname within the RGM, but also friends in the high strata of society who made up a large part of his clientele.

The sleeping creature gives out a sharp yawn, almost like a yip, as it stretches. Causing Leon to lose concentration and almost scratch the inside of the freshly polished ring. “Scheiße!” Looking closer with an eyepiece, he sighed in relief that he hadn't scratched the ring; he straightened himself. “Who even let this mutt on this ship anyway?”

“The ‘mutt’ has a name, you know.” Suddenly, said the man in front of him, who paid no mind to the noise. He’s calmly cleaning his rifle, the Barrett MRAD, or known by its military designation, the Mk. 22, which was known for its quick caliber conversion capability between 7.62mm, .300 Norma Magnum, and .338 Norma Magnum.

“Whoa! Since when have you been here!? Oh, verdammt!” Leon was so shocked at the person in front of him that he actually scratched the ring this time, and it just gave him an extra hour of work, much to his chagrin.

“Fifteen minutes ago, you horse-face! We have known each other for a while, and you still acted like this. Am I really that subtle to you!?” The young man answered in exasperation.

“Yes Daisuke, yes you are, ya Fuchs!,” his heavy Swiss accent flowed with each word, “You know, I still don’t get why they let you keep… Ugh, what’s this cheems’ name again?” He watched as the Marine, well, basically a young man, stopped his cleaning, looking up at him with his intense amber eyes. He then looked at the animal he was referencing. A light Shiba dog lay next to him, nibbling at one of its toes. Its hair shines in the fluorescent light.

“Aki? What about him?” The young man scratched behind the small dog’s ear. Getting a smile from the animal.

“What about him? He’s a dog that acts like a cat on a ship, belonging to a Marine. That doesn't make any sense.”

Frowning, “He belongs to me, yes, but he is also a part of the company. Like a mascot, who just so happens to take good care of him. It's not my fault that he only likes me. Besides, he's like my little brother.”

“A little brother that can kill a man in five. No, six different ways, Fuchs.” Leon rebuttals, pointing one of his tools towards him.

Daisuke just shrugged and went back to his rifle. “And who do you think trained him, horse-face?” Daisuke hummed with a smile as Leon was annoyed by another nickname of his.

Once finished, he locked the rifle back in its case. Sitting there, drinking a cup of hot Dr. Pepper with lemon, a habit that he inherited from his grandfather, who came to the United States in the early to late 1960s. “I saw it in a magazine ad that your grandmother liked to read. It is surprisingly good.” He told Daisuke as a boy one winter.

The door to the mess opened, letting Commander Choi and Staff Sergeant Jeremy lead the Westermen nobles inside. The mouthwatering smell of the cooking food was the first thing to hit their noses with a WHAM. Sniff sniff sniff Sniff “My word. What is that delicious smell?” One lord proclaimed to no one in particular.

Sniff “It's meat, but I have never smelt such an aroma before.”

“It's heavenly!"

Taking those comments as his cue to speak, Jeremy explained how to order the food they so wished to desire. Of course, one of them asked where they could get more of those “Coca-Cola”. Jeremy pointed to the soda machine and explained how it operates and the variety of drinks it dispenses. He had to block them and explain that first they must order their food. So each grabbed a large tray that had built-in bowls and made an orderly line.

The head cook walked around the counter, “Hello, everyone. I am Culinary Specialist 1st Class Reginald Cosmo; you can just call me “Reggy” for short. Everyone does it.”

After introductions, the cook lists off their choices of food with their basic ingredients from left to right. “For lunch today, we have a hamburger with your choice of basic toppings such as cheese. You can get a side of fries or a fruit cup. Next is an oven-cooked pizza with either just cheese or pepperoni. We also have a vegetarian option for those who don’t eat meat. Which is a Lintel Soup with bread. And lastly, a loaded baked potato with your choice of toppings.”

“And for dessert, we have a cake from Mississippi called ‘Mud Cake’, freshly made, and Ice Cream. Any questions?” But none came; their eyes were on the heavenly-looking food. The lights just above it all were a hue of yellow, making each item glow and glisten. As if the Crone herself guided their eyes to it.

“May we try them all, if we so wish?” The young Ser Jace questioned, keeping his eyes on the food. Not trying to be rude, but the smell was pulling them in their direction. All Jeremy had to do was say one, single, word.

“Yes”

I’m amazed they haven’t tried to climb over the counter yet. Guess they still have dignity that needs to be kept. Both Leon and Daisuke watched as the nobles, clearly with quite a bit of effort, tried not to do such a thing. Several lined up in an orderly fashion, while others found seats close by. None of them had noticed the two men in the corner, or did for Daisuke and didn’t care for Leon.

“How goes the ring and watches, Leon?” The Commander questioned, who turns out can walk surprisingly quiet when she wants to. Startling the two from watching the cackling hens go out on both the Staff Sergeant and Culinary Specialist, with Daisuke in particular immediately standing up and greeting her with a salute. “Commander Choi!”

The navy commander visibly flinched at Daisuke’s greeting and salute as she just noticed that he was also in the cabin. “You know, Corporal Fox, I can’t get really used to how subtle you are despite it’s literally part of your job.” She then turned to Leon again. “But in any case, how is the progress, Leon?”

“So weit, ist es gut. But I have to restart on the inner ring because of. Well, them.” Leon points to Daisuke and the Shiba, the latter now awake with wandering eyes that you could fall in love with.

Daisuke just rolled his eyes at the jab, “You were being too loud, horse-face.” He then turned to the navy commander. “How’s the tour party going so far, Commander Choi?” She went on to explain the previous transpired events, skimming over the interaction with Shino. She sat next to Aki and scratched behind his ears. Daisuke had warned everyone who tried to do so that he doesn't really let strangers do that. But the Commander had been one of the few on the ship he’d allow touching him.

15 Minutes pass

The Highborn Westerosi quickly figured out the meal selection process and acclimated. Several split drinks on the floor, prompting one of the sailors to clean it up. In turn, showing them something called a “Swiffer”, and how quickly it cleaned up the spillage.

Each Westerosi chose a, well, “variety” of food, you could say. Some have two trays. The smell and heat of each make it irresistible not to do so. Before they could dig in and eat, “My Lords! First, we must pray to the Seven for this bountiful meal. And thank our hosts for allowing us to enjoy the fruits of their labour. Let us pray.”

An older lord, about fifty to sixty years old, stood up holding a book that he brought along with him. The cover had a seven-pointed star embroidered with gold. He wore robes in the colour of his house. The centerpiece of the outfit was a large, gold, seven-pointed star hanging from a chain around his neck. Flipping the book open, and began to read.

“Blessed be the Mother, for today we eat a bountiful feast from our, hopefully, new friends across the Sunset Sea. And blessed be the Smith, for guiding the farmers in the hard work that brings this feast to the table. We bless the Crone to guide our Liege lord, Lord Tywin Lannister, and the ambassador, Lady Kelly O’Conner, to light their path towards friendship. And lastly, may the Father judge the United States of America and the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. That we both can move forward into a prosperous future.”

“And now, let us enjoy the fruits of their labour.” Thump. The book is closed, and they all take their first bites of food. With their bites taken, there is silence among the highborn. You could almost see the gears turning in their heads. The taste buds soaking up the richness of the meal.

“It’s heavenly!” Ser Jace exclaims as he throws away his Highborn manners and goes to town on the ‘Bacon Cheese Burger’ he decided to try. It was as if the years of Court training and Septon manners had vanished in a puff of smoke, each one embracing the food, like a beach with the tide.

With each massive bit being taken, the questions double.

“How is this” munch “bread so” slurp “soft? It's nothing like anything I have ever tasted.”

“How are you able to acquire such exotic fruits? I have only read about ‘Pineapples’ in books! I never knew they tasted so delicious.”

“This dessert… Ice Cream. How do you make it in the summer? The last time I had something similar was frozen ice during the False Spring. And not as rich and creamy. I must know how. Lannisport would be the perfect place to sell it and make a profit!”

“Staff Sergeant,” Ser Jace had finished his burger and now had something called ‘French Fries’ left. “What exactly are these again?”

Jeremy noticed that out of all the nobles, he was the only one to have fries on his tray. None of them even got the baked potato either. “These are French Fries, you make them from potatoes by cutting them into those sticks and frying them in vegetable oil.” The nobles were silent. “What? Have none of you heard of a ‘Potato?’ ”

To his, and well, everyone's surprise, they all shook their heads. None of them had heard the word ‘Potato’ before. Which is strange because the booklets said that potatoes were mentioned in the TV show, but not in the books. Just mentioned a few short times. How could something so simple yet so important not exist? I guess the butterfly effect is in full swing now.

“Try it and tell me what you think?”

Ser Jace inspected it further, seeing the white flecks of salt coated evenly on the golden coloured stick. It smelled nice with steam softly rising off it. Tearing it in two and eating one made up his mind on this ‘Potato’. The taste made him smile; it was salty, buttery, and with a hint of oil. It was nothing like he had tasted before in his life. He ate the other half, then another, and another. Before he knew it, he had eaten them all from his tray. “May I try the ‘Baked Potato’?” There were bits of salt on the sides of his mouth.

“Sure, go nuts.” He watched as the knight got up with his tray and picked out the biggest, thickest foil-wrapped potato. The cook gave him topping recommendations. The foil was cut, and the potato was stuffed. When Ser Jace sat back at the table, the highborn looked in wonder at this ‘Potato’. It’s massive.

The potato was about the length of the tip of his middle finger to his wrist. Plus an inch or so, and as wide as his hand. One thing they noted was the outside of it. Brown like dirt, an uneven surface, and humps spread randomly. It almost looked like a failed clay vase that was split in two.

Its filling, which you could call more of a topping, was cheese, butter, and small pieces of bacon. And something called ‘sour cream’, which looks to just be a white cream, but sour?

The smell of this strange dish was nothing Jace had smelt before, not even at sword point; he couldn’t describe it. Making sure he got a taste of everything, he evenly scooped the contents on his spoon and ate. His eyes lit up, shining like a starry night.

The next minutes became a blur for Jace as he ate his meal. Each bite tasted better than the last. When one of his fellow nobles asked how it was, the only word that came to him was “heavenly”. Not wanting to miss out on eating something ‘heavenly’, a lord here and there went to get and try this ‘potato’ meal.

USS Savannah , Mission Bay, Storage

Meanwhile, Shino is giving a tour of the MLQ she and a few of the other Staff NCOs had bunked in during their time on the Savannah. Besides the beds, the noble ladies had picked up with the introduction of the shower. Hot water? At the turn of a nob? And no need to wait for wooden tubs?

“I don’t see how servants are able to help with this. Do they join you in this ‘Shower’?” Lady Mera examined the deeply stained glass concealing the interior of the shower.

“I mean… There are bigger showers than this, but normally, you would clean yourself. I don’t know anyone who has servants clean themselves, unless you count parents cleaning their children.”

“No Servants? I presumed that, with such luxuries, even your smallfolk would have servants.” The young, and VERY tween personality, Lady Jocelyn commented with highborn pride. She sat on one of the beds, enjoying the springiness of the mattress. Clearly, she loved the fact that she was still at the top of the food chain. At least, to her knowledge anyway.

Shino mentally rolled her eyes and herded them along out of the MLQ. Making their way to the sectioned off area between the machine shop and dinghy, loading and unloading. Quad Conns, basically small storage containers, some are skinny and tall, around 6 and a half feet tall. Others are squat and small, appearing like an office supply box.

One thing in common was the MasterLocks on their sides, chaining their contents like a rabid beast. Three Marines guarded their contents, enhancing the Westerosi women’s curiosity.

“Normally, there wouldn’t be any guards. But when the Captain found out that there was going to be a tour. He decided not to take any chances with the container's contents being so. Well. ‘Open’.” Shino explained to the ladies as she showed her ID to the guards of Marine corporals, dismissing them with a wave. “We got it covered here.”

“Staff Sergeant, are you sure? I mean, with what’s in the containers, and them being... Well.” One Marine, a young man about the same height as Shino, whispered questioningly with eyes moving to the women behind her. However, the Staff Sergeant’s sharp stare silenced any further questions. Nodding, the three Corporals then chose to leave to get some fresh air outside rather than dealing with the Marine who, in addition to “Muscle Cow”, also got the nickname “Gentildonna” in Okinawa after she defeated three male JSDF soldiers larger than her in arm wrestling matches.

Shino started to fiddle with one of the tall containers with a key Commander Choi gave her, “Now, you’re all probably wondering why these containers specifically are guarded. Well, simply put, their contents are likely worth more than your weight in precious metals.”

“You mean, more than even gold?”

“Yes, exactly. Tell me, do you have people who make your dresses?”

The women looked at their dresses in confusion, as if the answer should be obvious, but answered with a nod regardless.

“Not surprising, but as a gesture of friendship, the US Government has a gift for the Highborn Ladies of Lannisport. So, ladies.” With a click, the lock came off, allowing Shino to swing the double doors on the container wide open. “Please, choose a dress of your choice.”

The container had a light system to illuminate its contents. The doors had built-in mirrors to examine the dresses closely. And its contents were like the garments from the heavens.

USS Savannah , Mess Hall, 1:45 pm, Nov 3rd, 2025

Upon finishing his talk with Captain Anderson, Captain Green made his way to the Mess Hall to take Staff Sergeant Moore up on the Mud Cake that he promised to save. The door leading in was under guard by a Marine Pvt who noticed his massive bulk coming down the hallway. He gave a salute and gave him room through the door.

The highborn nobles were a sight to see, clearly satisfied with their feast. It took a minute for one booming voice to greet him, “Ah, Captain Green, it is splendid to see you. Please, join us. I have so many questions for you.” The large man was Ser Lyle Crakehall. Just by seeing him, Green can already guess why he was called the “Strongboar”. He is also the husband of the woman who Pvt. Webber was trying to get the harness on, something that drew some curiosity due to the books not establishing him as a married man. Come to think of it, Green didn’t see her with her husband. Actually, four others were missing as well, from what the Captain could see.

The other nobles gave him their most proper greeting, at least as much as they could muster, since the food they had just eaten minutes ago was still settling in their stomachs. A few just grunting.

Green gave Moore a gesture to one of the empty tables, making his way over, after getting two big glasses of milk for both of them. After excusing himself, Moore made his way over to the Captain. After getting two pieces of ‘Mud Cake’ for both of them. Leaving the high lords to chat amongst themselves till Commander Choi went over to answer their questions.

Jeremy took his seat in front of the captain, sliding a big piece of cake and a spoon over to him. “So… What does Captain Anderson have to say, sir?” He softly asked, taking one of the glasses of milk and scooping some of the cake.

“Do you want the simple answer, or the long, bureaucratic, authorized eyes only one that I can tiptoe around vaguely?"

“I guess the simple answer first.”

“Did you see the paint on Harpy 3?”

“No, why?”

Jabari pulled his phone out and showed Jeremy a picture of said paint. He stared, the desert halfway in his mouth, before his eyes went wide and back to him. You’re kidding, right? It was the only look he gave him.

He just shook his head and put the phone back into his breast pocket. “No, I am not. Turns out, orders came to paint it just a few hours before the pick-up. They used hair dryers to speed up the process. The Captain seemed like he was surprised when he found out as well. You wanna know what the last thing he could tell me was?”

“Yeah.”

“Langley." Captain Green stated simply.

Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “So… They're already involved here then. Any ideas, sir?” Jabari just shrugged and went back to the dessert in front of him. Jeremy’s mind raced as he slowly ate. He should have seen the CIA’s involvement coming..

Rumors had spread throughout the military about the three main intelligence agencies: CIA, FBI, and NSA. While the CIA is already given and the NSA has been experiencing a significant budget and personnel slash, the FBI is currently handling internal security affairs, from violent anarchists to organized crime. For the latter, in addition to Operation Decisive Dawn with the DEA that led to the collapse of many Mexican cartels’ Fentanyl operations, the Bureau is also cracking down on the dwindling Russian and Chinese organized crimes, who also lost contact with their homelands. However, there are some fears that domestic-based crime groups would soon fill the power vacuum left by their international competitors.

Additionally, there is also a more ‘nobler’ task given to them; The dismantling of domestic extremists intended to take advantage of the post-Transfer chaos, from the emerging such as the far-right National Defense Front in South Carolina and the radical left People’s Revolutionary Army in Wisconsin, to the established ones like the Proud Boys and Antifas who hate each other as much as they hate a stable government. There are also news about a standoff in western Montana involving an armed cult calling itself the Legion of God against the FBI and Montana National Guard, as well as the declaration by the former US cell of the Animal Liberation Front, now reformed as the American Wildlife Brigade (AWB), who vowed to intervene against any actions by the USFWS that were deemed as “harmful” to the new wildlife beyond the borders.

Jeremy was going to bring up some New KKK clownery in Alabama to lighten the mood a little, until a booming voice interrupted him again. Booted feet thumped close by, belonging to a man of high stature.

“Ah, our new friends from beyond the Sunset Sea! So glad to have you two with us! I had wished to compliment you, but I know when commanders in arms need a word in private. I must say, this is a fine feast that your cook served us. Perhaps, if he’s not part of your fleet, I would have snatched him to Crakehall already. HAHAHAHA!” The large knight boisterously slapped Jeremy's shoulder.

“It’s our pleasure, Ser Lyle,” Jeremy responded.

Ser Lyle wiped soda remnants off his beard, “But I have a question if I may ask, your people called your realm ‘The United States of America’, but what does it mean exactly? I understand that the "America" part was the name of your land, as is Westeros to us, but what exactly does "United States" mean? Perhaps your "states" are like a kingdom to us?"

Captain Green then takes a sip from his milk “Well, that’s more or less the case. Putting it in a way, Ser Lyle, just like the Seven Kingdoms made up of lords and their domains, our country is bound together by fifty states . Each of these states have their own authority, cultures, laws, and such, but all still owe fealty to the greater authority in our capital, our own King’s Landing basically.”

“Fifty!? And they also have their own rulers and laws!? Dear gods, and I here I thought the Seven Kingdoms were already a pain in the arse just by itself. Your people must quarrel a lot with that kind of division.”

“Oh, tell me about it, good ser,” Jeremy said in a mirthless laugh as he took a sip of his milk. “But in the end, despite all of our differences, or even because of it, we all still consider ourselves Americans at heart, and that’s what really matters.”

“I reckon that your people also have to go through massive bloodshed for that to happen, just like when we toppled those sisterfuckers from the Iron Throne,” The large man guessed.

“Oh, there sure was, in fact, our country almost split into two at once. During the Civil War, the issue of slavery divided us. Northern states, or ‘The Union’ as historians like to call them, while it's simply the US, most saw it as an economic issue before it became a moral one, while the southern states, their piss-ant rebellion called themselves ‘The Confederate States of America’ or ‘The Confederates’ by the Union. They were states that were economically dependent upon it.”

At the mention of slavery, the boar spits to the deck, “Bah! Slavery, the most vile of all sins. Please tell me that the one against it actually won and it has been eradicated, otherwise… we’re going to have a real problem.” The Crakehall knight practically growled.

“Don’t worry, Ser Lyle. We, the side against slavery won. I’ll go into more detail.” Jeremy then made himself more comfortable then continued. “Our leader at the time was Abraham Lincoln, who at first only wanted to stop the spread of slavery in hopes that it would die out. However, the South forced him by attacking a fort. Thus, the country was plunged into civil war, and almost a million men fought and died in four years, maybe even more. Son against son, brother against brother.” Jeremy knew that a good portion of those who died were from disease, but he figured the lord probably knew that.

“Almost a million men… In four years no less.” The large man's face strained in thought, “I am trying to picture it, but such bloodshed is unthinkable to me. I don’t consider myself well-read… but in all the histories of our wars, even before Aegon's Conquest. I do not believe such a number was reached, not even a tenth.”

“Neither for me, as well.” Jeremy had seen enough bloodshed in his time, but just like the towering man in front of him. None like that. “But in the end, it was that bloodshed that cleaned the sin of slavery that has stained our nation, a nation that should have been a shining beacon of freedom and liberty. And we will never forget those who were held in bondage.”

“Ah, good riddance, I say, that barbaric practice has been abolished from your realm. This Abraham Lincoln lad must be one of your greatest leaders, by the way you talked about him.” Ser Lyle said in satisfaction

“He sure was.” Captain Green said. “In the aftermath of a bloody battlefield called Gettysburg, he was there in person when the Soldiers’ National Cemetery was consecrated to those who died in that battle. In a short 2-minute speech, he masterfully iterated our nation’s purpose and our need to continue the fight, especially after such a costly battle.”

The boar and the other nobles listened to the history of the US Civil War and its high cost, which made the War of the Ninepenny Kings look insignificant. The other nobles moved to hear the two men speak, a few standing. One such being a young knight.

“What did he say to rally his people to continue the fight?” Ser Jace asked.

Jeremy pulled a folded sheet of white paper from his pocket. He knew that the nobles would poke and prod into their history. And just to be sure, he had his favorite and most important speeches written down. “What he wrote down and said word for word is as follows: Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal….”

Ser Jace sat and listened with his fellow Westermen nobles as Jeremy read word for word. The young man couldn’t help but think back to what his father told him about the Greyjoy Rebellion. During his march to the Iron Islands, King Robert Baratheon would rally every bannerman he met on the way with rousing speeches. With his imposing charisma and booming voice, thousands of men flocked under his command, be it Stormlanders, Westermen, Rivermen, and even Northmen. And that’s not even mentioning how he took the crown from the Mad King and the Dragon Prince.

From Summerhall to the Pyke. From the Mad King to the Wet King. No matter what the battlefield or the war, the Rebel turned King Robert of the House Baratheon, the first of his name, would rally everyone to fight beside him. This Abraham Lincoln appeared to be the same, but this man seemed to have a gentle but firm touch with his words.

“-we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”

The nobles gathered to listen to the Captain, who recited the speech given on that solemn day centuries ago. “Truly, words to ease the hearts of a weary people in a time of great sorrow. I’d reckon you keep the speech close to you?” Ser Jace said, breaking the silence. Jeremy just nodded and folded the paper back into his packet.

Captain Green looked at the young knight. “In a time of strife that is civil war, where brother fights against brother, it takes such great men like Lincoln to stitch the wounds that have caused such a split. Both as a nation and to someone he didn’t even know.”

Lord Crakehall looked at him with an inquisitive look. “What do you mean by that?” But before Captain Green could answer the lord's question, the door leading to the Mess Hall came creaking open.

With a booming voice, “Gods be good! My dearest Daisy, is that you?” Ser Crakehall broke the silence and was now looking towards the door with wide eyes. Everyone turned to see six figures, two of which were Marines. Shino and another woman both seemed very pleased with their work.

Ser Lyle stood in awe of his recently married lady. She seemed to glow in her strange, but beautiful dress. The main colours were white, black, and brown, with what appeared to be the Reach’s green scarf draped around her shoulders. Her arms were bare for all to see, except for her shoulders. The collar was cut in a V shape from her neck to her breast. Buttons made of what appeared to be bronze ran from the V’s point down to her waist, where a brown belt wrapped around. It held her dirk that he had given to her as a wedding gift.

Pieces of metal in the shape of teardrops hung from her ears, with each movement catching the light. More of her garments shone in the same way. Her shoes seem to be another type of dark brown. Though the material seemed to be leather, with a gold buckle facing outward.

Daisy walked to her husband and curtsied, “My Lord Husband, I hope this gown is to your liking. It is a gift from the Americans, not that the other wasn't fantastic.”

“My Dearest Lady… It is beautiful.” He stood there basking in her beauty. All the while, the other nobles admired the other three ladies' new dresses. And hers, of course.

Marla Brax insisted on wearing her house colours of purple and silver. And there just so happened to be one. Silked in the colour of plum that had been enhanced to give a purple shade that just happened to match the unicorn on her coat of arms. The sleeves were stitched and encrusted with silver stones. The dress curved and melted to her body. The noble ladies gawked in awe at the colour alone. Only a few noble houses had the privilege to have even a sliver of purple, a color that can only be created by harvesting rare sea snails that can only be found in Tyrosh, so this was mind-blowing. The gods themselves must have made this dress.

The lady, Mera Estern, wore something more modest for a more mature woman. The dress was green and white, the design matched her previous one, but lighter and smoother. She wore earrings of birds that had been handcrafted in Italy. She had to concentrate on not falling because of the heels she decided to try.

She was accompanied by Mary and Jocelyn. Both wore similar dresses, each designed for women their age. Mary with her black and yellow over-kneed-length dress. She wore the same shoes because she was not fond of any of they had. Jocelyn did as well, but Shino figured it she was copying Mary.

Her black and grey dress had to be held together with safety pins. She was very skinny for her age. Shino had questioned her on it and got an answer she didn’t like. “Every woman from our house is small, but eventually well-gifted like you, my lady.” Something she thought would have to be brought up with her father and mother.

After the other nobles did their ‘inspection’, the five ladies had their chance to try the food they could smell from down the hall. After the meal, the Commander and Staff Sergeants(s) answered and asked many questions of the Nobles to pry as much information as they possibly could.

Daisuke was listening intently before he noticed that two of the ladies stopped and seemingly looked at him with great interest. But he knows that they’re not looking at him, but the fluffball now standing next to him. Front paws on the table and yipped twice. Once out of curiosity, and the second for attention. He didn’t notice it because the noise sometimes melted into the background.

With a screech of teenagers’ joy, Mary and Jocelyn practically leaped over the table to see the fluffy creature. The other nobles walked over with ‘grace’ to see it as well. They never noticed the dog because it was hidden next to Daisuke and lying on the chair.

The two girls rapidly exclaim. “My gods, what is that beautiful creature? Woulditbite? Wherediditcamefrom?” The words were a chaotic jumble; he could barely understand them, sounds made by teens punched by love.

“Uhh, excuse me, my ladies, this is Aki, and he’s my dog.” Daisuke greeted the ladies, which made them recoil in surprise from his sudden appearance.

“Ah… our sincerest apologies, my good ser. We didn’t see you there.” The older girl apologized in embarrassment before asking, "What kind of dog is he, and can we pet him, if I may ask?”

“He’s a Shiba Inu dog breed. I got it from a country called Japan. He doesn’t bite, and you can pet him.” He figured it would be best to just answer them, or they might do something to him. As if on cue, Aki hopped up on the table and sat on the edge with elegance.

Mary and Jocelyn's eyes were wide and full of curiosity. The younger began to pet Aki, first slowly, then faster. Daisuke always groomed him after breakfast and made sure to shower him as well. Good thing too, his fur was nice and soft.

Eventually, the other nobles got their turn to pet the creature and ask questions. It appeared to Daisuke that Aki made sure to capture the moment by sprawling on the table for enough hands to have equal surface area to scratch him, clearly enjoying it. He then felt a tap on his shoulder; it was the older of the two girls.

“Forgive me, ser, but I never asked your name. I am Mary, of House Drox.” The girl, or lady in this case, curtsied with noble elegance. The younger one was still occupied with Aki, never wasting eyeball time away from the animal.

“Pleasure to meet you, Lady Drox. My name is Corporal Daisuke Fox, Ma’am. How can I help you?” The lady’s eyes briefly lit up when she heard his surname.

“I just wanted to inquire about your fluffy animal and yourself, if I may. I have so many questions.”

“Of course, I will try to answer to the best of my abilities.”

They both talked for some time, well, it was mainly Mary doing the talking and Daisuke giving answers that led her to ask more questions. His family, his job, where he grew up, his education, his training, and life in America. He ended up going into detail about each. She would just sit and listen. Before long, some other nobles joined in, too. Soon, Daisuke was leading the Q&A that was set to begin instead of Commander Choi.

He was drinking when Mary asked another one, which in turn made him nearly choke on it. cough cough cough. “Pardon me, my lady, but can you say that again. I don’t think I heard you right.”

“I asked if you were engaged. Because if you are not, I would like to be with you to join our house with yours.” She said again, with a tinge of annoyance on her face.

Shit. I figured I heard that right. He had to think fast to get out of this conversation. She was clearly a teenager, for god’s sake. Westerosi customs were completely different from the US, yes. But he also didn’t want to be rude. Some of the lords started to get a twinkle in their eyes; most likely, they had daughters who needed husbands. And what a perfect time to bring it up, especially with a clearly powerful potential ally to the Lannisters. With how they refer to him as ‘ser’, they must have thought of him as a knight of a noble house.

“I am afraid that would not be possible, Lady Drox.” It was Commander Choi! My lifeline! Daisuke internally screamed for joy at the XO stepping in.

“And why is that, Commander Choi? We're both fully grown, I am a flowered woman of six and ten years. And he must be eight and ten years of age. Highborn families form marriage alliances much earlier, nine times out of ten. If anything, I am past due for marriage. But my Lord Father has said he wants to give me away to someone with honor. I think Ser Daisuke is a perfect fit, no?”

“Well, that's where you're wrong, Mary. To put it clearly, Corperal Fox here is two and twenty years old. And it is mostly against our laws for anyone under ten and eight to get married. Especially, a six and ten-year-old to marry a two and ten-year-old. Sorry.” The Commander dropped the formalities in addressing her to get the message through.

This new bit of information surprised the highborn, especially Jocelyn, visibly. Clearly wanting to do something similar to one of the servicemen for her house. This leads them into explaining the laws of: Age of consent, marriage laws, child labour, and many more for those under the age of eighteen years old.

Dusk, Lannisport

Ser Jace made his way down the ramp with much on his mind, carrying something called a ‘Goodie bag’. When it was given to him, he’d been told not to open it till he returned to his chambers. Which he found odd, but since everyone got one, it seemed like a welcoming gift. Which was nice for them to do such a jest.

He looked over to the canopy that Lord Tywin was led to at midday. He, his brother, cousin, and the Maester were given much bigger bags as well.

He noticed something else as well, strange sounds coming from the town square. And what appeared to be white lights. Intrigued, he made his way there. It was the way to where he was sleeping for the night, so it was convenient.

He passed by Lady Mary and Lady Jocelyn, who were snickering amongst themselves. He only heard a little, but it had something to do with the topic of betrothals.

[Author: And we are done! I hope ya’ll enjoyed the chapter. A long one, yes, but still fun to write. I thank those who helped me on Discord. Another life update: my mom is doing much better. She has a new car! Also, my AC compressor went out, so I have had to deal with that, which is why this chapter has taken a bit longer than usual. Till next time!]

Chapter Text

“Mighty is the hand that knows when to pick the pen & when to pick the sword.”

-Anonymous

Fifteen Minutes Earlier

“Excuse me, Commander Choi, Lady Mary, may I speak?” Leon suddenly interjects and asks the noblewoman.

“Permission granted, Leon.” Commander Choi gave him a nod.

“I do not mind either, Ser…Leon, correct?” Mary asked the watchmaker.

“My name is Leon Muller, my lady. Also, I’m not a Marine like Ser Daisuke here, just a simple watchmaker.”  Leon introduces, while his Marine friend glares at him.

“Watch…maker? My apologies, I do not understand, my lord.” Mary scratches her head in confusion.

“I am a jeweler, particularly good with gold and engravings, or just call me goldsmith, if you may, that’s what I’m called after all.”

“Ah, a jeweler and goldsmith, respectable crafts. I want to say, my lord father and other lords always speak highly of your trades.”

“You flatter me, my lady. Well, you see…” Leon then, like Green and Jeremy before him, proceeded to explain how the US is divided into fifty states, only in a more simplified, concise manner. Which further fascinates Mary, who realized how things work differently yet in some way also the same with the people beyond the Sunset Sea. 

“... and here’s where it gets interesting, some states have a minimum marriage to 16 years old, with parents' consent, of course.” Leon started, getting not just her but everyone's attention, “And Ser Daisuke’s is from one of them.”

Daisuke looked at him with daggers in his eyes. Unfortunately for him, however, Leon is not finished yet.

“Furthermore, my lady, just so you know that his father and mother…are prominent traders with lots of coins in their purse, which in his country has a similar status to your nobility. As a matter of fact, his mother is one of my regular customers. So basically by marrying him, you’re marrying into a noble family with some extra steps.”

 Mary’s eyes immediately lit up, while Daisuke, who also noticed that Reggie is flashing his shit eating grin at him, can only mutter one vocalious word to Leon: “Motherfucker.” Leon, for his part, only reacted in amusement as he continued his work on the ring. Commander Choi, on the other hand, watched with interest before whispering to a nearby sailor.

Mary, meanwhile, is now ecstatic that she would be able to marry a man who is not only handsome and honorable, but also comes from a family of renown as well, regardless of them being merchants who were reputed as fake lords, or “cheeselords” as Lord Tywin called them. However, she also has her own epiphany.

In Ser Daisuke’s America, men and women are expected to marry at an older age than here in Westeros. It works out fine for me since not only does my lord father and brother not like me being wed at this age anyway, but I would also have two years or more to win his love, and I intend to use those years very wisely. Ser Daisuke, I promise you by the Maiden’s grace that you will cherish the time when my eight and ten nameday comes.”

Lannisport, Westerlands, Westeros, Nov 5th, 2025

Kelly and Tywin’s meeting

Tywin Lannister, for the first time since the burning of his fleets by the Greyjoys, was surprised. His brother and cousin even more so. The sheer amount of trade goods and production that a single realm was able to produce, according to the dossier he was handed, if true, was quite staggering, for lack of a better word.

From just wheat alone, the United States can produce so much flour that if it came to Westeros, it would make bread as cheap as dirt, including for the smallfolk. There are also other crops and produce it has available as well, be it barley, oats, corn, grapes, apples, oranges, peaches, and many others. Name any crops that were produced in Westeros or even parts of Essos, the Americans would have it, sometimes more than a hundred as many. 

Furthermore, they also have several exotic crops, including spices that are similar to Dornish dragon peppers. They even have rice of all things, rice, a product that normally Tywin would have to purchase all the way to Yi Ti, and now it would be available right in front of his door. That’s not even mentioning new crops that he never heard of before, including this “potato” that is supposedly a resilient crop that can be planted anywhere and able to feed an entire family. Something to keep the smallfolks from rebelling.

Worryingly, the same can also be said of livestock, such as chickens, beef, pork, sheep, and even turkeys of all things, a bird that only existed in the North to be hunted by the wolf lords. In fact, if the Americans were allowed to export their livestock completely unrestricted, it would not only cause a significant drop in prices of meat, but also societal hierarchy disruption where smallfolks would be able to buy meat almost as easily as the noble does. Unacceptable, simply unacceptable, this is certainly something that needs to be discussed later. 

Nevertheless, the total agricultural output would definitely overtake not only his closest competitors, the Tyrells of the Reach, but also the entirety of Westeros combined. With the United States being a foreign entity outside Westerosi political intrigue, not to mention being relatively close as far as merchants are concerned, it would make the entire west coast, and by proximity the Westerlands, a new trade hub the likes the realms have never seen. But trade is only good so long as the goods arrive at their destination.

“My lady, from what you have provided me in this book, it’s safe to say that the realms will not have any issues with trade across the Sunset Sea,” Tywin spoke while reading the dossier with confidence before he brought up his next point.

“However, the Lannister fleet has seen better days, and the other kingdoms' fleets aren’t likely to lend assistance. I need my fleet to repel reavers who dare to plunder the Westerlands. Despite having bent the knee to the King, I highly doubt Balon Greyjoy, the Lord of the Iron Islands, actually intends to stop the pillagings, or the “Old Way” as they refer to it. The Farmans of Fair Isles can attest to this, as they have the most experience when it comes to the Ironborn and naval warfare. I simply don’t have enough ships and men I can task with repelling invaders and protecting trade ships at the same time.” Tywin said, bringing up key points. 

Kevan and Tyran Lannister nod their heads in agreement before the former adds to it.

“It is true, my lady. The Greyjoy raid on Lannisport has devastated the fleet, and we are still recovering from that attack. We have managed to rebuild some ships, but only enough for coastline patrol and not to protect trade convoys.”

“I understand.” Kelly smiles as she knew this topic would come up eventually, but was more than prepared and happy to respond. 

So she signals one of the Marines to bring in two satellite maps to the table, a map of the American eastern seaboard and a map of western Westeros, including the Westerlands and the Iron Islands, the latter of which brings massive shock to the three Lannisters. Lord Tywin, if you may, please mark any important points of interest that you believe we should know on these maps that we have.”

“L-Lady O’Connor, h-how did you…” Tyran can only stutter at the frighteningly accurate maps, down to the green of the lands and the blue of the ocean, in front of him. Even Tywin and Kevan have a hard time keeping their cool.

“Let’s just say that… we have our ways,” Kelly replied slyly with a confident smile.

I see… if you possess flying machines and devices that allow you to paint life-like pictures instantly, of course, you would also use them for mapping. It seems I underestimated your people again, my lady. Tywin mentally grumbled as he also signaled for his own servants to bring him map scrolls of the Westerlands and the Iron Islands drawn by an Archmaester named Rystan. Two of the only eight of their kind. Maps that he would only bring for very special circumstances due to their exceptional rarity. 

Using his own maps as a reference, Tywin then proceeds to mark any important point on Kelly’s satellite images. Wooden krakens have been placed on key points that the Ironborn raid most frequently. With the most located on the Iron Islands, their golden ink shines in the light.

“As I was saying, Ser Kevan, I can assure you that the United States, fundamentally, takes free trade very seriously. In fact, the very top of the document that established our navy, states that the sole reason it was formed was to combat corsairs, or in other words, state-funded pirates. In the span of over 230 years, we have gotten very good at hunting piracy. My husband would know more since he's a history teacher.” Kelly said. “One of our navy's main jobs was patrolling major trade routes. This will be routine for them.”

“If that is indeed the case, my lady, then I believe the Westerlands would be happy to cooperate with your Navy. I’ll send a raven to Faircastle. Lord Sebaston will enthusiastically share anything that he knows about the Ironborn with your people.” Kevan smiled.

“That would be much appreciated, Ser Kevan.” Both Lannister brothers and cousins watched Kelly drink a glass of that impossibly clear water from that equally clear glass before speaking again. 

“Maester Lorwell has told us about an island chain in between southeast Westeros and Essos called ‘The Stepstones’. He stated it was infested with pirates and slavers. I meant to ask about it earlier, but why hasn't it been handled by the crown?” Kevan’s smile then disappears.

“Too many places for them to escape. And with the pass being too remote, it would be hard to control. Previously, when a major force, such as the Triarchy and the Ninepenny Kings, took over. The king would rally his forces and handle it. But other than that, the islands simply are not worth it. Especially since taking them would hurt our relationships with Lys, Tyrosh, and Myr.” Ser Kevan explained, much to Kelly's disappointment. 

And the fact that Sunspear is not exactly on the best of terms with us for the moment. But you don’t need to know that, my lady. Tywin added mentally.

Kelly could be an actress, and now was the perfect time. Free islands just for the taking, just need to contact the Martells nearby, “evict” the troublemakers, and move in. As for the former Triarchy, who cares about the opinions of slavers anyway? 

“I am sure our leaders and King Robert could discuss a way to kick them out, and find a more… ‘permanent’ solution to secure the passage. For the good of our countries, of course. For that, we will consult with Congress, our great council basically, so we can muster our fleets to aid Westeros and its surrounding seas, including an Admiral to oversee the operations. If it is for anti-piracy operations, I am sure they would give their approval.”

Your great council?Muster your fleets? An Admiral on top of it? You really are serious about warring with the pirates, my lady. A bit too serious, perhaps? Tywin ponders as he notices the glimmer in Kelly’s eyes and decides that he would have to play very carefully when dealing with her, whom at this point Tywin considers to be as dangerous as the Queen of Thorns herself.

After that, the meeting proceeded until another gift exchange was initiated between Lannister and American parties to mark the end of the current discussion phase. It seemed to Tywin that there was a theme in this particular gift exchange. Those being books, both from Casterly Rock and Golden Keep.

“The Histories and Lineages of the Kingdom of the West and Westerland Houses. By Maester Mathos.” One of the many that Tywin had ordered to be copied years ago. This was the newest rendition.

“Lives of Four Kings, By Grand Maester Kaeth.” One of the rare books in House Lannister’s possession. Originally thought to be only four in existence, but a fifth copy was eventually found in a sealed chest in a cellar below Castle Golden Keep.

“The Dance of Dragons, A True Telling. By Grand Maester Munkun.” A detailed account of the Targaryen War of Succession. A book that Tywin's own son, Tyrion, would read as a boy. Mostly due to it being the Lannisters’ preferred retellings of the highly controversial and divisive event that was the Dance.

And last but not least, “Fire & Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros I. By Archmaester Gyldayn.” This book, the first volume of the uncompleted series, has one of the most complete recollections of Aegon's Conquest all the way to the Broken King and his regents. This was one of two copies archived in the Rock. 

Interestingly, Lady Kelly and other Americans seemed to almost adore the books, especially the last one, with great care, curiosity, and even… reverence? It seems that her people are also the educated sort, a martial yet also curious and learned society, a dangerous combination. She then mentioned something about ‘Making copies for everyone to read.’ Tywin initially presumed she meant having their own scribes, not unlike the Maesters, to make copies once their ships set out for home.

That thought turned out to be proven false when a device was wheeled in.

“What is that, my lady?” Tyran asked

“This is a device called a book scanner,” Kelly said before continuing. “It essentially looks and copies pages of a book instantly, saving all of its knowledge in another device called a “computer” or a “laptop,” where we can use another device called a “printer” to print the pages that were just copied. If I may, I can demonstrate it to you now.”

Kelly then carefully picked up the “Lives of Four Kings.” Wanting to save its knowledge just in case certain events played out. As she placed it upon the scanner, the Lannisters saw a beam of light sweep across the first two pages of the book, scanning and storing it in the laptop's hard drive. Upon turning the display to them, they could all clearly read the scanned pages word for word. Kelly then turned to Maester Lorwell, who, at this point, is still recording the historical events that are now unfolding in front of him.

“Maester Lorwell, you told me that most of the Citadel’s time and resources are spent copying deteriorated books and scriptures so they can be saved. Am I correct?” Kelly asked the Riverman Maester.

“You are correct, my lady. The scribes copy word for word but it takes a considerable amount of time, years even, and makes the copies as expensive as the real ones.” Lorwell said.

“Then those scribes at the Citadel will be thankful for this,” Kelly said before hitting print, and the small printer below printed out the two pages in a few seconds before handing them over to Tywin, Kevan, Tyran, and Lorwell to inspect. Much to the four surprises, especially the latter, it was pretty much flawless copies.

“T-this…this is incredible, my lady! A marvel forged by the hammer of the Smith himself! No doubt that the Citadel would pay a heavy gold price for this construct!” Exclaimed Lorwell. “With this, a Maester would only need to write a book once, and then this construct will copy it. Scribes will be out of work, true, but many of them are already bright-minded men on their own who could write their own book. I mean, look at these copies, so intricate and detailed, no mistake to be found. This would revolutionize book writing and copying for sure!”

“If that's what you believe, Maester Lorwell, then I believe you could also help us to contact the Citadel? There are lots of things that we wish to discuss with them.” Kelly smiled. 

“Of course, my lady. I’ll send a raven to the Conclave later. It’s going to be some time before they respond, but I’m sure if I also send them my notes on what happened here, they will no doubt deliberate your proposal for a discussion.” Responds Lorwell.

After that, the book exchanges continued with the Americans giving their own gifts, mostly philosophy and US history books. Maester Lorwell also receives books, many of them intended for the Citadel to “implore them," as Lady Kelly puts it. 

Among the books gifted to Lorwell, and to the extent the Citadel, are the “Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica” by Sir Isaac Newton, “Dialogue Concerning the Two Chief World Systems” by Galileo Galilei, and “The Origin of Species” by Charles Darwin. The name of the authors escapes Lorwell, but he can guess that all of them were men of learning and this… “Isaac Newton” in particular was likely an anointed knight, a knight who is also a learned man, curious indeed.

When they inspected the gift, both Tywin, Kevan, and Lorwell noticed that, in addition to there being more of them, American books are noticeably thinner than the Maesters’ books. Furthermore, they are also rich but concise when it comes to their content; some of them even have colorful covers and attractive illustrations to help emphasize their point. It’s as if they want as many people as possible to read their books, and as the book-copying construct just showed, it was certainly possible. Martial yet learned people indeed.

 However, there is one particular book that Lady Kelly seems to want Tywin to read the most.

One that is called The Prince, written by Niccolò Machiavelli.

Lannisport, Castle Golden keep, 28th day of the 7th moon, 298 A.C. (Nov 5th, 2025), evening.

Tywin sat in his chambers, the quill and parchment staring back. His mind was lost in thought about what to write to the king, who has become a fat oaf, at least that is how the letters from his daughter described him. But even before he became fat, Tywin never trusted Robert; as subtle as his warhammer, always smiling too much and trying to pat his back on every chance he got. 

That’s why he has Pycelle to keep a close eye on him. The old man may be lecherous and slimy, but he’s undoubtedly been loyal to Lannister’s cause ever since Aerys disillusioned him. As such, right before the first response to Lady Kelly’s drone letter, Tywin had also sent a raven to the Red Keep so the Grand Maester could rally the Small Council to prepare the defense of King’s Landing in case the Rock had fallen. Hopefully, the second letter to King’s Landing that he had sent earlier would calm them down. The sound of hammers and saws is making its way into the room several stories up. 

Not long ago, ravens had been sent to all the lords explaining the situation in Lannisport. With his permission, Kelly had used the ‘Laptop Computer’ and ‘Printer’ to make the messages informing them that the harvest feast would be relocated from Casterly Rock to the Golden Keep. It was quite fascinating to watch the rectangular black box spit out messages one after another. Each addressed to individual lords, the detail in the letters sent a clear message of no falsehoods. The high lords who had been given a tour of the Savannah signed their names at the bottom of each message to authenticate them. Under his and Kelly's, of course.

The existence of those “Laptop” and “Printer” constructs, also further confirms Tywin’s suspicion after the book copier, that books in America are cheap to even lower classes. It was further proven after Tywin noticed how some of the American men-at-arms pulled out pens and paper to write like it was nothing. Which means during the book gift exchange, they actually admire the content values of the books he gifted to them rather than their price. Truly terrifying people that no man has ever seen since the Freehold. 

Speaking of dangerous people, truth to be told, there were also some his bannermen that were only a bit less savage than the Wildlings beyond the wall, including a certain giant rabid dog, just their existence alone would only ask for diplomatic complications if the Americans knew about them. Thus just after he and Kevan arrived in Golden Keep, he also had Lorwell send ravens to Clegane’s Keep and Stingfort in addition to Pycelle’s, without the Americans knowing, therefore Gregor and Amory can consider themselves unwelcome at this year's harvest feast.

Harvest feast, Tywin scoffs when thinking about it, he believed that the entire affair was nothing more than some senseless coffer draining spectacle. It reminded him of the coins that Robert often borrows tremendously to fund his personal tourneys and feasts. However, the same sentiments cannot be said of the majority of Westerland houses; thus, the only reason that House Lannister kept holding it annually was because of Kevan’s warning that not doing so would cause many of the nobles to hate him after they already feared him. 

As of today, thirty of the fifty houses have sent back ravens confirming that they shall ride to Lannisport. As for the last twenty, most likely the ravens would arrive later. And if some Lords don’t, then he will only have to send a singer to remind them who their lord is. He also just received a raven from Lord Preston Sarsfield, who said that his sister, Genna Lannister, who was in The Twins recently, has just departed from Sarsfield, along with Daven, who was sent to escort her, and would soon reach Casterly Rock. Which means he would have to send another raven so the castellan, Ser Davion Vikary, would tell her to depart for Lannisport, along with the head cook and his Summer Islander assistant, as soon as she arrived. The Redboar would also inform the lords who missed the raven of the feast’s relocation. It has been some years since Tywin had seen his only sister. It would be nice if her scrawny husband didn’t have to show up.

Speaking of his bannerlords, it seems that one of their daughters has been educated well, considering that she took the initiative to court one of the American men-at-arms who is apparently a son of powerful merchants. Tywin personally has no love for those cheeselords, but apparently, America is like the Free Cities, where merchants hold the true power. So, marriage between them would likely create powerful political ties between the Westerlands and America.

Tywin caught a look at him coming from the Savannah when leaving a meeting with Lady O’Connor. The Yi-tish-looking boy seemed like a good option for House Drox. Young, handsome, but more importantly, belonged to a family of influence. One that happened to catch the eye of one of his bannerman’s daughter. 

Unfortunately, said Bannerlord, Lord Marston Drox, proved to be rather…averse to wed his daughter after his wife died young when giving birth to her, which he and his son blamed on House Doggett and his late father for forcing them to bed early. However, when Tywin mentioned this to Lady Kelly, she didn't seem to mind. It seems in America, people are expected to marry at an older age. Therefore, a betrothal should do for the moment, something that could be arranged at the ball. Through them, he hoped he could leverage the politics of the United States into his favor and hopefully cement the Lannister name for a thousand years or more, in his view anyway. 

Enough with the delay. Tywin thought to himself, but instead of picking up the quill and ink. He reached for another gift from the Americans that he is thankful for, a fountain pen.

Lannisport, City Square, 29th day of the 7th moon, 298 A.C (Nov 6th, 2025)

When the Seabees had first arrived at the City Square, they were met by a man named Samson. The word Ox came to Ted's mind when he first saw him. Short, but muscular and gruff-looking with a neatly cut, long brown beard. He was accompanied by several other stonemasons, but none stood out. It took around ten minutes to move the heavy equipment into a good accessible area. All the while, Samson watched the equipment and concrete with great curiosity.

“M’lord, just what kind of tools and materials did you bring in here? I’ve been a Stonemason for years, and I’ve never seen anything like it.” 

Looking up from his notepad, “First, please don’t call me my lord. Makes me feel too uptight. Commander Heisler or Commander will do just fine. Second, this is just standard equipment and materials.” He then went into detail to help the Stonemasons understand the equipment they brought and their uses. Which, in turn, brought on questions.

Lord Commander Torren listened with interest as well, writing in one of the notepads given to him by a private unloading supplies from a MUTT. This back and forth went on for around ten minutes. 

The outside inspection of the former taverns proved to be insightful. Besides, minimum wear and tear to the outer supports are very promising. “These are good, strong bones. Who built them?” Ted asked aloud to no one in particular.

“That would be my mentor, Gray Wyl. M’- I mean Commander.” Samson said with pride.

“Could I meet him, if possible, to keep the architecture the same at the request of the Ambassador?”

Solemnly, “I’m sorry to say, Commander. He died of a fever seven moons past.” Samson looked at the buildings. Memories went across his eyes of the old man who brought him up from nothing.

Ted gave his condolences, then asked, “Did he keep blueprints of his work?” Samson and the other stonemasons gave him a confused look at the alien word. “Sorry. I mean, did he write any of his designs? Like on paper, or parchment?”

Samson shook his head. “Everything a stonemason knows is passed down to his apprentice. It's all in here.” He tapped his head with a finger, smiling. Causing the others to nod in agreement.

“Alright then. Let's get to work.”

Same shit, different day. Oh, joy to me. The basement foundation supports were rotted and pockmarked like shredded wheat. It’s honestly amazing that the former taverns were still standing after all these years. The first day was spent cleaning out the rundown building. And evicting several pests, and two squatters. One being a kid. The Corpsmen took care of them, thankfully.

The main floor inside seems fine though. Besides a few rotten beams, floorboards, and the mice chewed the 2nd-floor walls. It could have been worse, one of the Seabees said. But the basement was clearly a different story. When the counterfeiting operation was shut down, several of the assailants went down fighting. Dried, crusted blood spatters covered the walls. It almost looked like a Jackson Pollock painting. 

For safety, ‘Jack Posts’ had to be used on the support beams in three sets. Plywood was drilled in the tops so they wouldn’t go through the floor. It was a good start. “What a marvelous tool, no wood wasted.” Samson, being one of the few stonemasons who could read, was surprised at the weight that each of the posts could withstand. He recommended using them in the same spots on the first floor to keep the second one up.

The counterfeiters’ tools had to be destroyed, put into crates, and handed through one of the windows that gave some natural light. A tunnel connecting the two basements was the worst structural patch job Ted had ever seen. How it hasn't collapsed, he couldn’t say. Steel and rebar supports were the first things welded together once the equipment was unloaded from the trucks. This ended up drawing the natives into a major crowd; the noise alone stopped their equivalent of ‘mass’ in the sept.

The new support sections were carried down the long, unused, rickety stairs. That was another thing, new stairs had to be made because someone's foot broke through the rot. The notepad list grew larger and larger. When Ted was finalizing the necessary major equipment, Andrew's leg had crashed through the upper floor and revealed a major termite infestation. Fuck.

“Everyone, get out of this death trap. Now!” Ted barked over the radio. Being the final man in the basement, he made his way up the stairs just for them to collapse right as he was about to reach the 1st floor. Thankfully, Samson grabbed his arm just in time and yanked him up with ease.

“You alright, Commander?”

“Yeah, thanks. I owe you a beer.”

He would later give his report to his superiors and lock down all of the equipment. A squad of six Marines had been ordered to guard the area from thieves. The Seabees would make their way outside of the city for basecamp. Except for Ted and Andrew, Samson pulled them aside to inquire about their expertise.

“M’Lords, may I invite you to my workshop? I may need some counsel for a project I have been working on. You seem well-versed in the arts of construction.” Samson questioned both Ted and Andrew. Giving each other a look, they shrugged. “Eh, sure, why not? Lead the way then.”

The three then made their way down the torch-lit street. The two commanders had their weapons at the ready in their holsters for any interlopers, but thankfully, none appeared. 

When they arrived, the front of Samson's shop was pitch black. He took a torch down from the wall and began to strike it with steel. Being dark, it was difficult to see the torch, which was, until the floor around it lit up like the morning sun. “Need a hand?”

The mason looked to see both Ted and Andrew shine what could only be described as ‘mini suns’ in the palms of their hands. Slack-jawed, Samson pointed in question. “This is just a little thing we call ‘Flashlight’, cause they flash light. Heheh, get it?” Andrew smiled at the stupid pun. 

God, please tell me you got a girl pregnant lately, otherwise you have no right to use that fucking joke. Ted can only roll his eyes.

The shop was full of tools, stone samples, and carvings of birds, flowers, and some people. A stone hearth lined the wall, its embers quietly glowed and crackled. Overall, it was cozy. Samson explained that Gray Wyl left it to him after his death. ‘To keep his legacy alive’ was his last word. 

Samson showed them to his workbench, scattered about were parchments with skillful drawings. Measurement tools sat on a side table. 

To the Commanders, it looked more like a drafting table for architecture. The candles with glass to light the night. There was even a crude magnifying glass on a metal arm for finer workings. When questioned, Samson smiled, “I won a game of dice with Elrik, the blacksmith, a few shops down. He didn’t have the coin to pay me, but he had steel, and I had the glass.”

Upon further investigation of the drawing, Ted realised what Samson was working on. A goddamned animal-powered hydro-pneumatic water pump.

When asked why he would design this, “It wasn’t me, it was Gray Wyl. I just added a few ideas, such as the cow bladder system in the large barrel to force water. He asked me to continue to work on it and show Lord Tyran once it was complete.”

Andrew began to write down the man's design description and take a few photos with his phone. Samson gave him a questioning look, but before he could ask.

“Samson, we have a lot to discuss with you, including a job offer. And I think a few of my superiors will as well.”

Once Samson heard their proposal, the three men left the shop. He was ecstatic at the idea of being the first man in Lannisport to work closely with the men beyond the Sunset Sea. What better way for Samson to celebrate their soon-to-be-partnership than by taking up Ted's offer of beer?

“Commander, please allow me to take you both to the Siren’s Song. One of the best taverns in Lannisport that serves the finest and thickest brown ale throughout Westeros. So thick that even Ser Torren of the City Watch praised it.”

“A tavern? No, no, my good man. What you need right now is a good ol’ American beer.” Andrew said as he spread his arm on Samson’s shoulder and led the stonemason to their camp. A perimeter had been set up with c-wire. Guards were on each corner for protection. Yellow lights dotted the wire for protection.

Ted noticed some of his men by a campfire, “Boys, bring that crate over here!” On cue, a Seabee then brings in a crate full of strange, dark-colored bottles. 

“What are these bottles, Commander? Are these beers? I've never seen beers in bottles before, let alone ones that are made of glass.” Asked Samson as he inspected one of the bottles that had an inscription that says “805”.

“These, my friend, are 805 Blonde Ales. Here, let me open it for you.” Samson gives the beer bottle to Ted, who then proceeds to open it with a bottle opener and gives it back. When Samson peeked at the mouth of the opened bottle, he noticed that the beer inside was pale and unexpectedly thin in appearance, almost as clean as water.

“I know what you may be thinking. Just take a sip and taste it yourself.” Samson then proceeded to do just that, and what he tasted surprised him. 

Instead of a bland, water-like taste, his tongue was greeted, no, kicked with a strong but clean taste with subtle sweetness, a hint of strange bitterness, and bready notes. Something he didn’t think was possible on a thin-looking beer.

“What is this, commander? Is this a strong beer that you gave me?” Asked Samson.

“Ah, no man, this is just some standard American beer for us low grunts. It’s cheap, but it was good.” Corrected Andrew.

“There are more of them here. Just help yourself, you earned it, my friend. Bottoms up, everyone!” said Ted as he raised another beer bottle from the crate, 

“HOOOYAAH!!!” Cheered the other Seabees as they began to take their own beer bottles from the crates.

Later, Samson would go on and pass out drunk two feet from the fire pit. With twelve bottles at his feet.

Lannisport, City Square, 30th day of the 7th moon, 298 A.C (Nov 7th, 2025) 

Each day since the arrival of the ‘Americans’, Samson had the privilege to experience their methods of construction work. At least, the ‘Seabees’ version. The morning after his ‘enjoyment’ of American beer, he had awoken in his bed. Confused, he decided to be early, just after dawn, to question exactly how he made it home. Who knew that such a light-looking beer could be as strong as an ox? 

But surprisingly, he was greeted by Commander Heisler and Commander Collins. Even now, Samson still couldn’t believe how the leaders of the American banners, men who were above his station, treated him as a friend, as an equal. Furthermore, they also have both men and women under their leadership. The idea of women at arms was strange to him, but it was no place for him to complain about it, especially after one of them did outdrink him the night before. Gods, not even the Dornishwomen were that wild.

The first order of business was, in Commander Ted's words, “Throw out the trash”. Each stonemason was given thick gloves seemingly made from fine leather. A ‘filter mask’, some lightweight Myrish eye-like thing that goes over one's eyes for protection, to shield from the dust. A yellow helm made of a strange material sat atop Samson's head quite well. He felt like a boy playing a knight again. But seeing the other Seabees wear the same equipment made it easier.

The entire day was spent cleaning out the two former taverns. Ted asked them what they normally do with trash from their work. The replies were mixed: Tossing it in the ocean, burying it, finding a different use for it, and, of course, burning it. With most of the trash being unusable again, they went with burning it outside the city. 

The MTVRs had massive crates of trash loaded up and taken outside the city. By this point, the smallfolk had gotten used to the sound of them and just moved out of the way. 

As Samson worked on the second floor of a building, he noticed several men standing over a hole made by the cart with the bucket arm. A ‘Bobcat’, he remembered it being called. When he questioned Ted and Andrew about it, he got an interesting answer.

“We scanned and found an aquifer just outside the city. We were going to route piping to the new consulate building and square to pump water for everyone. Kinda like a well, but it wouldn’t need a bucket.” Andrew explained to him. It seemed a simple process, but the word ‘pump’ was a new one. He had asked why not just take water from the Lion’s Tail river that flows just outside the Rock.

“Originally, we were, but then the aquifer was discovered. Both closer and cleaner. Which, judging by how you guys get your water. It's something you really need.” Samson could see the logic in that.

Over the past few days, a plumbing line had been dug in the street, leading out towards the aquifer. A light, white tubing called ‘PVC’ was buried a foot and a half underground for protection, then covered with dirt. Then lastly topped with cement.

‘Cement’, probably one of the most fascinating things to watch from the eyes of a stonemason. Crushed wet rock that will dry to become harder than any mined stone. The foundation of the consulate buildings was to be made from a reinforced version of steel that was brought over from another ship of the Seabees. 

Kelly and the three head Lannisters also came to watch the first pouring in the buildings. Furthermore, under the advice of Lord Commander Torren, the site also hoisted a Lannister banner alongside the Star-Spangled Banner to prevent ne'er-do-wells from approaching the camp, especially since the Lannisters are known to be hard on crime. Lord Commander Torren himself was said to have personally cut off seven thieves’ hands and gelded seven rapers in this week alone.

Each stonemason, including Samson, crawled over one another to make an order of this ‘Concrete’. “As a show of goodwill, we will give each of you ten bags of it and a wheelbarrow mixer. All we ask is a good word from you to your customers about us.” Lady Kelly asked them.

In addition, a red cross tent had been set up to provide some humanitarian aid to the locals on the other side of the new fountain. It took some convincing, thanks to visual proof, provided by Lord Commander Torren, that there was no harm to come from the care of the corpsman.

Needless to say, it attracts the attention of local smallfolks.

“What are they building?”

“Who are these people?”

“What is this fountain?”

Seeing all the commotion before them, Kelly decided that she needed to take advantage of it.

“People of Lannisport! First of all, we want to apologize for the disturbance caused by our arrival in your city. We meant peace, not harm. Therefore, as part of our apologies, we would like to provide you with a clean water source that you can take to your home. Please note that this water source is limited, so use it with care. We also offer you free healing and medicine for various ailments, so please come over.” 

Kelly then proceeded to explain the main purpose of water to those watching. Fresh water from the aquifer would split off into two directions. First to Castle Golden Keep. Then, the other will split into two sets for the community water source and for construction use. A simple fountain system of eight nozzles was set up, and a tub to catch excess water. “Clean water doesn’t have diseases in it. So it's safe to drink.” She said cheerfully, taking a sip from the fountain. Plus, when it's filtered and chemically cleaned.

Despite what Kelly told them, the smallfolks were still visibly reluctant to even approach the fountain, that is, until a City Watchman braved himself to dip his cupped hands and lift the water using it.

“Gods, this water is so clean!” Exclaim the City Watchmen as he takes a sip of the water, which emboldens the other smallfolks to follow him and try the water themselves.

“These men…. they’re the Mother’s Men!”

That’s what a young Septa watching them said, after she noticed how these foreign men and women not only provide free clean water for free, but also heal those who need it. Upon hearing her words, smallfolk began to slowly come to the tent, some while chanting “Mother’s Men”. 

Kelly wanted to thank the Septa, so she made her way to her; she was about her height. Fair-skinned, deep blue, sharp eyes, and a lock of golden hair showing. She wore the traditional clothes of a Septa. Young and beautiful. But the crowd of people blocked her view, and the young girl vanished without a trace. 

Like a desert viper that buries itself through the sand.

By the Golden Sept ally, the young Septa who gave comfort to the smallfolk hid. Quietly huffing from her quick escape from the ambassador. She watched from behind a corner pillar as the woman looked for her, gave up, and went back to her duties. Quickly, on a notebook and pen that the ‘Seabees’ handed out to her, she noted information that she could see and find from the ‘Americans’. Her mind couldn’t understand why they just freely gave out fine parchment and quills. She was watching them curiously as they wrote on them and approached to ask about it.. After some small talk, they gave a spare to her just like that. Smallfolk can’t read. She wrote their attitudes, accents, mannerisms, weapons, and the number of soldiers stationed around the construction site.

As she wrote, the great wooden door to the Sept creaked open. The Septon of The Golden Sept of Lannisport, Septon Willifer, gracefully walked down the steps to where the Smallfolk gathered, despite his big-boned body that betrays his Crakehall origin. He was escorted by seven other men of the faith. As expected of a Septon of a Lannister-owned city, she could already see the gaudy jewelry and smell the expensive perfumes the man wore from her hiding spot. Her eyes would sometimes water from the intensity.

One by one, Smallfolk would bow and move out of his way. Some would ask for his prayers, others would stay silent. The man seemed to glide on the cobbles with the flowing, ornate robe. All that remained standing were the ‘Americans’ and the Warden of the West.

Chapter Text

“The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.”

-H.P. Lovecraft

Messenger birds, or as Westerosi call them, Ravens, black of feather, strong, clever, and most importantly, reliable. At a speed of twenty-five miles an hour, they are way faster than horses. 

With the stroke of a quill, Castle Golden Keep's raven dashed away to its destination. Let's call him Gerold. Gerold has the privilege amongst his family to routinely visit the capital, King’s Landing. 

On Gerold's many resting spots high on an oak tree, he likes to gossip to the other birds about their deliveries. This time, though, no other birds, just him and his message. Speaking of which, the one was strange in color, like the color of the sun. It looked like one of the many rings around the old man's neck that feeds him meat. 

Whack. Startled, the black raven looked to the base to see a man with an axe chopping at his spot. Beside him, a man held a banner of light blue, with golden rings in an ‘X’ pattern. Oh well. Gerold was sad to see this nice spot go, but there will be others. He took to the skies once more.

The final stretch of flight was upon him, the air had smelt of flowers, cut grass, and hearths during his flight. Landscapes changed from thick green forests to fields of wheat, back to forests, and finally, the hill near the Capital. The only trouble that crossed Gerold's path was a bunch of young ravens looking to race each other. He then saw that a hungry hawk was on to them, while he knew he could easily avoid it. Those poor kids, though…

Climbing up the hill, the smell hit him like a brick. Thick of smoke, rot, and shit. Oh, and rats, don’t forget about rats. Ballsy creatures that like to jump from buildings to grab you with their tiny claws. Gerold lost many friends to those bastards. Most die from being too close to buildings, or the scratch marks of the rats that spread disease into the flesh. Rotting the feathers from your bones. Slow.

The apartments of the Grand Maester were always a privilege to visit. Gerold would be rewarded with corn, oats, and barley. But usually the best thing was juicy red meat. The windows of the apartments were opened during this hot summer, and incense smoke whipped out with the wind. Gerold made it a habit to check it when opened. But the apartments were void of occupants.

Gerold went on a search for the Grand Maester around the Red Keep. If not his apartments, then he would be with some lordling in the castle. Actually, now that Gerold explored around, he saw guardsmen moving in a hurry on the walls.

Almost as if a great defense was being set up, hundreds of arrows were being made in the courtyards. Great pots of boiling pitch stank the air, masking the usual shit smell. That was when he spotted the one place the Grand Maester would be.

The Small Council chamber was busier than it normally was, with the Gold Cloaks' Lord Commander, Janos Slynt. Seemed to be in a disagreement with Ser Barristan Selmy, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Why the King wasn’t there, Gerold could not say.

Something something "Siege engines” something something “More men” something something. Words that really didn’t mean much to the raven. But what did mean something to him was sitting, red-faced, eyes deep in concentration. Re-reading the same parchment, this message seemed to be the main talking point of those in the chamber.

Gerold followed the Grand Maester around the castle, from afar, of course, with watchful eyes as he went through with old books in the Library. This seemed to go on for hours. Whatever was happening appeared to be important enough to take the Grand Maester away from his favorite activity that Gerold would often catch him at.

Of the three vows a Maester swears on: Hold no lands, hold no Lordships, and remain celibate. Celibacy is vital to hold no attachment, for their love is only for the realm. But sadly, for some men, this isn’t enough. 

Grand Maester Pycelle, a man of great renown and privilege, was once one of these men. The honor of serving three past and one current king. But over the years, he has eroded into what lay below Gerold's eyes, perched up on a high window… The sun was down, and the Grand Maester was now just a flabby old man, accompanied by two young whores. 

Rookery of the Red Keep, King’s Landing, Crownlands, 31st day of the 7th moon, 298 A.C. (Nov 9th, 2025)

Freshly bathed, groomed, and most importantly, ‘squeezed’. Grand Maester Pycelle adjusts his great chain as he slowly enters his Rookery. As he closes the door, he straightens himself up and quickly makes his way to his desk to pour himself a Dornish Red and a drop of milk of the poppy along with it. It had been days since he was so ‘active’, and he needed to put his aging body and frustrated mind at ease. Lord Baelish’s suggestion to “examine” his girls did not achieve the intended result. It’s no use, I still can’t put my mind at ease, not with the peril that now looms over the realm, if only there…

Squawk Caw Squawk Caw

Looking towards the sound, Pycelle lowered his goblet to see a lone raven at the window pacing with a message. Huh, must have arrived during my ‘examinations’.

Recognizing the bird, Pycelle collected the message before feeding it fresh mutton. His finger went to the bird. From Castle Golden Keep. Good news, I hope. He took his seat, breaking the wax seal. His eyes were strained to read the message, which made him curse his old age. Partially reading it, a heavy weight lifted off his shoulders. 

Oh, thank the Gods above. This is exactly what he needed: some good news, The Rock still stands, and bread and salt have been offered. His burden now turned to relief. When he thinks about it, there should be no doubt that a great statesman like Lord Tywin would be able to bring these strangers to the parley table.

With all the chaos in the Red Keep over the past few days, about the possibility of an unknown force invading. It kept him from his usual activities that require the Grand Maester’s attention. Including, of course, his ‘examinations’. 

As he sipped his wine with serenity in the safety of The Rock, he read on, queer things suddenly put a stop to that, more than his aging mind could comprehend: Steel ships that move with no sails, horseless carriages, communication faster than ravens, and mindless onyx are just some of them. Last but not least, flying machines had transported the entire Casterly Rock court to Lannisport.

Flying Machines? Pycelle had the urge to dismiss it as a madman’s scribbling. Alas, this was written by Lord Tywin himself, the man that the Grand Maester believed to be the true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. Before he could process further, a knock came from the old wooden door. “C-come in!” Pycelle answered as he quickly assumed his doddering old man mummer’s act.

With a thunk, the latch came undone, and the door swung slowly open. A bald man appeared, stinking of lavender. His robe of silk catches the sunlight. “My Lord, Grand Maester.” The eunuch's velvet voice fluttered into Pycelle's ears.

“Ah, Lord Varys. Strange of you to seek me at this hour? News that couldn’t wait for the small council meeting, I expect?” He asked politely, while also not being able to help but raise his brow. The eunuch rarely sought him out, especially since the death of the Mad King. He is also less tittering than usual ever since the first letter came in.

“Indeed, and it seems that we have a raven. A message from Lord Tywin? About strangers from the west?” Varys questioned with a soft smile, as if he knew what the message had already entailed. 

Of course, the eunuch knows. He and his “Little Birds”. Pycelle can only groan in his mind.“Yes, I should ask how you know that, but after all these years, there would be no point.”

Varys gave him a chuckle, “Of course, my birds are everywhere. And their sweet, sweet songs reach wider and faster than any ravens. But it seems these black wings bring bright words instead of the dark ones. A new friend of the realm, perhaps? Any wise thoughts on the matter at hand?”

“A Grand Maester’s opinion, that's what you seek? Hmm, well…” Pycelle thought of the message. As far as the Citadel is concerned, the Sunset Sea is not home to any realm going by the name “United States of America”; it is a cruel sea that perishes any explorers bold enough to try to tame it. 

But, these… ‘Americans’, they do exist and may even have power in them, since Lord Tywin compares them to the Free Cities in his letter, being a kingless people formerly subject to a bygone empire that is now dominated by powerful merchants, but Braavos specifically, due to their abhorrence of slavery.

“From what I have read, this… ‘United States of America’ is akin to the free city of Braavos, but on a scale of the Seven Kingdoms or even more. So they may very well be a potential powerful ally… or a dangerous threat.” Lord Tywin also warned that whatever they might be, they certainly bring change with them, for better or worse.

“Oh indeed,” Varys placed a soft hand on his powdered chin. “My little birds have told me many strange things. Such as ships made of steel, six to be exact. One such being the size of a city. If what they say is true, then I fear what else these people could build.”

“And that's not all, now I know this will sound queer. But since no doubt you have read Tywin's words, you should already be aware that they are in the possession of… flying machines.” Varys noticeably cracks his voice at the last part.

Those words again. “Lord Varys, normally I would say, might be best to dispose of that tone-deaf bird. And the fact that the Citadel has proven time and time again that no man can fly without dragons, let alone build machines to do the same. But now…” Concern came from Pycelle, especially since apparently some of these machines didn’t even need to be ridden and able to deliver messages like a raven.

“My birds never lie after all, besides, they now have proof. A proof that, in truth… startles me.” Lord Varys pulls a large scroll of parchment from his sleeve. 

Proof? Now this was unusual, Lord Varys had never stated to have such a thing as proof. This caused Pycelle to straighten to inspect the parchment that Lord Varys placed in front of him, adding weights to keep it flat.

It was a drawing for sure, but of what? Pycelle couldn’t put his finger on it. It looked like a fish, with a sword stabbed in the top fin. Three blades were attached to pots on each end. Black cylinders indicating wheels sat at certain points.

Poorly drawn figures were shown to be ‘coming out’ of the contraption. The ink clearly indicates green threads, not unlike the Tyrells and other Reach houses. But there were three peculiar things about them. One, each held a black staff that was almost crossbow-shaped. Two, some of the figures were clearly women. Three, their diverse skin and eye types, while most of them had fair skin like an Andal, but others were as dark as Summer Islanders. For the eyes, some of them were round, others just small lines, almost like they were from the far-off realm of Yi-Ti.

“Grand Maester?” Varys asks softly, giving the old man a concerned look.

“Yes, yes. It’s just… queer to look upon. These, here.” Pycelle pointed to one of the staff. “Did your little birds say what they could be? They wield them like a crossbow, so it seems like a ranged weapon. And I assume these men…and women are in green for a reason, no?”

Varys pulled another scroll from his sleeve, “Yes, one of my more gifted birds was able to get a closer look and heard a City Watchman question them.’ U.S. Marine,’ that’s what these soldiers refer to themselves. Apparently they take pride in their order so much that calling them mere soldiers seemed to offend them..” Placing the parchment next to another, it was clear this bird had talent. 

US Marines. Lord Tywin warned about them, fierce yet disciplined seafaring warriors that are less Ironborn and more Unsullied. Which means sending shoddily armed peasants would only get them slaughtered. That’s not even mentioning the equally fierce engineers called the “Seabees” that are adept at building war fortifications. Certainly no Lamb Men. 

“The Marine called the staff a ‘Rifle’. As to what that entails, I could not really say. But considering these people were able to construct flying machines, I wouldn’t dismiss it either. Especially since it seems that every single one of their soldiers is armed with one in lieu of swords and spears. Perhaps only fully armed and realized knights could face them. And as for the green color, I believe it’s not to signify armory of sorts, but to help conceal themselves among the green terrain. Some of my birds even called them ‘Green Helmets’ and ‘Moss Men’ because of it.”

Concealment, a craven tactic of the assassins, spies, and savages. While, of course, the eunuch would be familiar with it. I can’t fathom why a band of warriors would also resort to such tactics. Pycelle mentally remarks in disgust. 

“And what about these ‘women’ here? Any indication as to why they would allow women to fight? Small population?” Pycelle knew that some cultures also allowed women to bear arms, but he wanted to hear the opinion of someone who was not a true man himself.

Varys simply smiled and nodded. “Both great questions that are worth their weight in dragons, both have answers. For the first question, it seems that for them, only allowing half the population to fight when the others are just as capable makes little to no sense. Not unlike the Summer Isles and especially the fortress cities of Hyrkoon. When asked otherwise, one of them even said something in the line of “It’s fucking stupid and sexist.” I never heard of this ‘sexist’ word, but I am sure it’s important to their ideals. Oh, pardon my language, Grand Maester.” He gave him a bow as an apology, and he accepted it with a wave of a hand.

”And what of the population?” Pycelle questioned, drinking from his poppy wine.

Varys' expression turned more serious as he gestured to the chair; in return, he was given a nod. Taking a seat, no quieter than a mouse, he leaned forward, “Now that question is another one that startles me.” This caused Pycelle’s already raised brow to move another half inch.

“After meeting with these ‘Americans’, as they call themselves, Lord Tywin and his brother, Ser Kevan, retired to Castle Golden Keep, so my little birds can easily hear the conversation. The number was of a topic, one that was so large that it likely exceeded any recorded citizens that could exist in the known world.”

 Yes, Pycelle knows exactly what numbers Varys is talking about; it was also in Lord Tywin’s letter, and it brings chills down to his old bones. Three hundred and forty million citizens. 

The Citadel has Maesters who specialize in census, each collecting from various factors: tax income, shipping, food production, and consumption. Yes, the process started after Pycelle tried to light his glass candle to become a Maester, but as a mere experiment. However, the Great Lords and even King Aegon V the Unlikely himself liked the idea so much that it became a royal-funded project.

Meanwhile, city-states in Essos as well as Yi-Ti already adopted the practice of census and shared them openly with the Citadel. After all, the system can be traced to the Age of Valyria, when it was and still used to differentiate a slave from freedmen, for both military and tax purposes. The number in the latest report from three years ago was just under three hundred million in the known world, with Yi-Ti providing the largest sum with 100 million. Of course, this is just an estimate; it would be nigh impossible to be precise.

That’s already a tremendous number to begin with, but three hundred and forty million, just for a single realm? One can only shudder to imagine how many hosts can be raised from that number alone. Especially when it comes to martial people willing to arm their gentler sex. Made even worse if their black staff, steel ships, and flying machines were taken into account, ones that Lord Tywin warned could be more of them.

Millions of men, each armed with the black staff… There are simply not enough knights and cavalry in the Seven Kingdoms to fend them all…

“My Lord?” Varys tried to get the old man's attention, but he watched as the gears in his head turned. Once more, got the Grand Maester to snap out of his thoughts. “What is it?”

“Do you believe in what these ‘Americans’ claimed? I have read our census, and those do not seem unreasonable, for the known world, that is. But for one realm? How is that possible? All those smallfolks. It seems that there would be a Civil War every generation over the price of bread.”

“Hmm, well…” Pycelle thought for a long moment about that question. But before he could truly think on the question. A quick flap of wings brought their attention.

Gold Caw Castle Caw Gold Caw Castle Caw

“This raven may have the answers.” Groaning, Pycelle shuffles to the raven. It bounced around the bowl of fresh mutton. Squawking with each hop. 

Removing the lid to feed the raven, a ray of light hits its feet. Shining brightly in his eyes caused the meat to fall short. Golden parchment? Untying the supposed message, Pycelle shuffled back to his chair, forcing himself to continue his old mummer's act. Varys himself looked at the gold in his hand with confusion.

“Another word from Lannisport, I presume?” The eunuch questioned. But Pycelle did not hear. His fingers uncontrollably felt the supposed parchment like a tax collector with dragons.

Smooth as silk? Pycelle felt the parchment thoroughly and thought it was strange for a message of gold, and figured that it was a protective fabric before cracking the blue wax seal. Which had an imprint of an eagle supporting a striped shield. An eagle? Not the Lannister lion? Unraveling it told an even bigger story. Instead of just a strip, the message unfolded neatly like a map, surprising both men. Seven Hells.

Moving the drawing from Varys’ birds aside, Pycelle smoothed the parchment. Well, it's certainly not ordinary parchment, placing weight on the tips to set it. The letters were perfectly readable, symmetric, and clean. No man wrote these letters; that was very obvious. Pycelle could feel them being slightly indented in the not-parchment. 

Pycelle read the message once, then twice, then a third. A smile grew on his face, causing Varys to raise a brow in question. He gestured for him to look. Varys got up to his side. “Would you kindly read this message aloud, Lord Varys. I think these old eyes are playing tricks on me.”

Varys slithers his fingers on the supposed parchment with utmost interest. It felt like the very silk that clung to his rather round body. The letters were black as pitch. The eunuch cleared his throat and began to elegantly read with his velvet voice.

“Dear Small Council of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros,

My name is Kelly O’Conner, Ambassador from the United States of America. Firstly, I would like to apologize on my country's behalf for any disturbance that we might cause. We meant only peace, not harm. I also want to compliment Lord Tywin of the House Lannister of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport, the Warden of the West, for being a splendid host to me and my countrymen. He has shown us the utmost hospitality. 

I am sure you have many questions about our nation, but so do we about your kingdom. Thus, we would like to meet his grace, King Robert of the House Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynars and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Preferably in person. Therefore, we would like to ask you, men of the Small Council, in good faith to inform His Grace about us.

There's a lot to be discussed, and we as a people can not wait to do so.

Sincerely, Kelly O’Conner, United States Special Envoy for the Seven Kingdoms.

Sign as proof of authenticity: Lord Tywin of House Lannister ” 

So they indeed come in peace, but certainly not unprepared either, especially since they seemed to know how much influence Lord Tywin held in this court. Varys noticed that the letter has an imprint of a banner of stars and stripes on its bottom, while on the top left, there’s the same eagle with a shield from the blue seal. So their banner is different from their sigil, interesting.

Once Varys finished reading the message, another parchment made itself known. Sticking to the back like glue, it came loose and fell like a feather onto the Grand Maester’s desk.

The two men looked at it in confusion. More words, but these written by clearly feminine hands. Pycelle picked it up and read with freshly wet lips. Varys was studying the golden parchment a second time.

“A gift to the Small Council. To forge an everlasting friendship!”

-Kelly O’Conner

Instinctively, he flipped it, more out of curiosity than anything else. Grand Maester Pycelle, a man who’s served three, now four kings. A supposed ancient old man. Nearly jumped out of his seat, forgetting his mummer's farce. “Seven Hells!”

Varys had never heard the old man curse the gods before, especially with such vigor. It made him jump a little. His eyes saw what caused the curse, and he understood. By the gods. The eunuch's eyes went wide at the parchment now lying on the desk.

A drawing of six men and one woman. Was it a drawing? No, it couldn’t be. It was too realistic and detailed to be hand-drawn. Lord Tywin Lannister himself was on parchment, as was his brother, his cousin, his cousin's son, and a Maester. Their eyes stared back at him, like a dream. 

The last two are a man and a woman. The man wore a strange uniform of black, white with gold stripes on the cuffs of his sleeves. And the woman, with hair red as the Tullys, a beautiful and full of youth face, and fine threads of a white blouse and blue coat, must be Lady Kelly herself. 

“She makes Cersei look ancient.” He heard Pycelle muttering under his breath. Yes, this is her, this is the woman who chuckles in front of Tywin Lannister himself and gets away with it. Some of his birds even took on to call her ‘Kelly Goldentongue’ in their letters. That feat alone tells much of how dangerous she is and the people she represents, yet this…drawing solidifies it even further.

Such power… It seems I really need to have words with Illyrio. I need to know who these ‘Americans’, and most importantly, what would be their place in our plans.

Outskirts of Moat Cailin, North, 30th day of the 7th moon, 298 A.C (Nov 8th, 2025)

The smell of decaying grass, trees, and rotting eggs filled Eddard Stark's nostrils. Nine years. Nine years since this ruin, this poor excuse of a castle lay before him. It shamed him to see it in such a state. He always wanted to rebuild it, man it, make it anew and whole so it can properly defend the North once again. 

The King, Eddard’s childhood friend, Robert Baratheon ,loved to drag him from the king's party every morning. His excuse to his wife, Queen Cersei Lannister, was to talk about the realm’s quarrels and business. But most of the time, it was to reminisce on their younger years. 

And for Robert to live his glory days that won him his crown. Today seemed to be one of them, except he didn’t need an excuse. The monstrous wheelhouse that the queen spent her time in was stuck in the mud, again, with two out of four axles snapped. Gods, no wonder Robert hates that thing.

Cursing, his grace ordered Ned to follow on horse to the hill-top half a league away from camp. Thus, after a salted pork and brown bread to break his fast. Ned ordered his Captain of the Guard, Jory Cassel, to keep guard of his daughters. Giving both of their direwolfs, Lady and Nymeria, scratches behind the ears. He set out to speak with the king. All the while, his youngest daughter, Arya, pleaded to follow. 

“I’m bored, Father! Can I please join you and the King? I’ll be quiet, like a mouse!” This made him chuckle, but only for a moment.

“I think not, Arya. You have lessons with Septa Mordane. Now run along, and if you behave, I may tell you the time me, your aunt Lyanna and uncle Benjen fought and won against Brandon in a snowball fight in the Godswood.” This brought a smile to her small face; she always liked the stories about her aunt. She ran along to where her sister and the septa were embroidering.

Robert was less himself during their ride, and that worried Ned. No jolly smile, no red cheeks, no deep belly laugh of times gone by, not even a wine skin. Just determined eyes focused on the ride. Robert also has the Kingslayer, Ser Jaime Lannister of his grace's Kingsguard, to accompany them, much to Ned’s displeasure. Yet, Ned noticed that the Lannister was also in agreement with him about his grace, but kept his silence. The sky was grey with the wind flowing past, taking the smell of the area away, allowing the natural scent to fill their nostrils.

The hill-top gave the party a complete view of Moat Cailin. The ancient stronghold still looked the same as it did years ago. The castle towers slightly sunken into the earth. The surrounding swampy ground was so moist it could suck a lord's army into its depths. Eddard’s eyes ate it all up.

“Ned, a raven came early this morning.” The King's gruff voice took Ned out of his trance. He looked at him and saw a face of concern, one he had not seen long ago since the Greyjoy affairs. Robert's face scanned the scene before them, then gestured for the Kingslayer to come to their side. “Kingslayer, this might concern you as well.”

“What you two will hear at this hour will sound like madness. As mad as if the Mad King came again, riding on a dragon and juggling lemon pies.” He said, reaching into his coat pocket, Eddard and the Kingslayer gave each other a look of confusion. His Grace never spoke such seriousness before about the Mad King. Just in mocking fits of drunkenness. 

The message was tightly wrapped with crimson silk. Eddard took it and noticed the Lannister lion stitching, which made the Kingslayer shift. It was thicker than the normal ones he had seen. Whatever it is, it has something to do with Lord Tywin.

“It was a big raven. You Lannisters always had the best ones, aye?” The King japped with a chuckle. Ser Jaime gave him a simple nod, “As you say, your grace.”

The parchment unraveled with little effort, revealing a large piece that was folded multiple times. The parchment cracked, but was muffled by the wind. Four pages in total. One with the message, another with signatures, one of locations and dates. And another with strange descriptions. Which was quite strange, but surely there would be an explanation. The penmanship was certainly Lord Tywin's, but for him to use so much was odd.

“Read the damned thing aloud. No unwanted ears lurking about.” The King ordered, which led the Kingslayer to look around a bit before nodding. Ned then stretched the full parchment out and read, and he had to do so above the wind.

“To his Grace, King Robert of the House Baratheon, First of his name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynars and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.

A realm across the Sunset Sea has come to Lannisport. Bread and Salt have been offered and accepted. The United States of America came to us sailing the sea on ships forged of steel. One such ship is the size of a city, docking with the hopes of trade. Both in goods and knowledge. They say that this world is not their own. Yes, it may sound like grumkins and snarks. But I say with full confidence that I believe their words.

For proof, I have had the court of Casterly Rock sign the added page. Additionally, for our meeting, these Americans that they like to call themselves, had sent steel flying machines in the shape of dragonflies to Casterly Rock with ease.

I ask my son, Ser Jaime Lannister, to read through the list of signatures for authenticity. He will recognize the names of the Lords and Ladies of the Westerlands. Additionally, I have sent a raven to King’s Landing to inform the Small Council of the situation here in Lannisport.

Something I must stress to your Grace, these Americans should not be taken lightly. Their foot soldiers use no swords, axes, warhammers, or bows. But black slim crossbow-like weapons.  To identify them, I had painters of Golden Keep draw what their soldiers look like, as well as the banner that they fly on a separate page.

The Ambassador, Lady Kelly O’Conner, has promised to demonstrate their weapons to me and my fellow lords. I will inform you and the Small Council in detail once I am able.

• From Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West.”

“What do you make of it, Ned?” Robert questioned, but Ned can only be speechless. Flying Machines, Steel ships, black crossbows? It sounds like one of Old Nan's stories that she would tell to his children. But this was not Old Nan, this was Tywin bloody Lannister, a hard man who doesn't believe in superstitions. 

He then handed The Kingslayer the parchment, who began to read the rather long list of names. And commented that some of the signatures clearly belonged to children.

“It’s hard to say, your Grace. If it was not from Tywin Lannister himself, then I would dismiss it as mere old maid tales. Just like the rumors from Flint’s Finger about a fisherman going mad.”

The next parchment was the locations with possible dates. It was a Maester’s hand who wrote it, a Maester Lorwell of Castle Golden Keep. He never met the man, but he did hear some good things about the man from Cat and Maester Luwin, a man of curiosity who committed to his vows. The locations and dates seemed reasonable enough, even with the occasional wheelhouse problems.

“These drawings are the strangest. Besides the black crossbows. What catches my eye more is these tunics here.” Ned points to the green that the soldiers are wearing. “It reminds me of the Reeds and other Crannogmen. Dressed in green to blend into the swamps. But judging by this blue and red banner here, I don’t believe green is their heraldic colour, like Grey is to House Stark. So it has to be for blending in.” 

“Lord Stark, you believe these… ‘Americans’ to be craven?” Ser Jaime gave him a questioning look as he read his father's letter. There was no doubt on his face, but confusion.

“Perhaps, but I believe it was not up to judgment. The Crannogmen’s tunics made them almost invisible within their swamplands. No force has ever been able to conquer it, at least not without suffering major losses.” All forces but that of King Rickard Stark, who came from the North.

“Thus, I can conclude that these tunics must be used for the same purpose. There’s also the fact that these strangers respected the Guest Rights and expressed their interests in trade not war, showing that they are civilized and not without honor. Your thoughts, your Grace?” Ned looked to Robert, but he was looking at another parchment in his hand. Only this one was as white as snow. It stood out in his black gloved hand.

Robert spoke with purpose, like swinging blow after blow at an opponent. “I believed the Old Lion’s words, every single one of it. Especially with this on the other foot of that raven. Just by seeing it…” he lifted the parchment showing a cracked blue seal, “I can safely say that the Seven Kingdoms have not seen something like this since those dragons made their roost on Dragonstone.” 

His Grace handed it to him, the parchment was smooth, even through his gloves, Ned could tell. The cracked blue seal had the sigil of an eagle with a shield. An eagle, stronger than a falcon, it’s certainly more than apt for people who possess flying machines to have the sigil of a fierce bird.. The parchment unravels and is folded in two, revealing a writing of a woman.

“A gift for his Majesty King Robert of House Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynars and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. To forge an everlasting friendship!”

- Kelly O’Conner

Once unfolded, Ned could understand why Robert believes every word of the message. Faces as real as any looked back at him. Lord Tywin, Ser Kevan, and two more Lannisters. And the Americans, one clearly a soldier, and the other, a woman in a strange getup, is clearly Lady Kelly, who looks like a Tully, like another sister to his wife Catelyn.

Lannisport, City Square, 30th day of the 7th moon, 298 A.C (Nov 7th, 2025) 

“If you make a mockery of House Lannister, I swear by The Seven you will meet the Stranger.”

Those words ran through Septon Willifer's mind from the night before. He was summoned to Castle Golden Keep on the presumption of meeting with Lord Tyran's wife, Lady Rosalynd Lannister. From time to time, she would call on him for prayer and counsel.

But instead of meeting her, he was met with four Red Cloaks who escorted him to Lord Tyran's chambers. There awaits none other than Lord Tywin Lannister himself, as well as his brother Ser Kevan and Lord Tyran. Lord Tywin explained that the ‘American’ Ambassador wished to speak with him. To be on good terms with the Faith and not to be treated as demons.

Lord Tywin then advises him not to overstep his position as a Septon, but he did so in a way that made it clear that it was not up for question by subtly reminding the Septon of the extermination of House Reyne. Willifer shudders at the thought of his head ending up on a spike or worse if he missteps. Those thoughts melted away as he heard the Smallfolk chanting outside his sept.

“Mother’s Men!”

“Mother’s Men!”

As Septon Willifer exited the Golden Sept, he saw the usual acts of appeasement to him and the gods. Smallfolk dropping to a knee or knees, keeping their gaze from his eyes. Asking and wishing on the Mother for a drop of her mercy, and of course, the lords present, giving him bows fit to their status. Even Lord Tywin gave him a small bow, all the while his glare pierced his soul.

Except for the Ambassador and her kingdom's soldiers, which was strange since when some form of foreign delegation came to Lannisport, they would honor him with a bow. Although Lord Tywin already explained to him the previous night that the ‘Americans’ do not bow to anyone, not even kings, it was still strange regardless. All that Kelly O’Conner gave him was a simple handshake and an introduction.

“Septon Willifer, I presume? I hope our work in the square hasn't interrupted your prayers too much. We apologize if there has been any.” 

Her apology was genuine enough. A Septa informed him earlier about the utter kindness that came from both the Ambassador and the soldiers that accompanied her. They all acted Highborn, but treated the lowest of Lannisport as equals. It was charming, really, to see the Maiden's kindness in those who have never felt the touch of her mercy.

He was then introduced to officers of the ‘US Marines’, all garbed in their very distinctive green tunics, who treated him with the most respect. Just like Lord Tywin said, even though they aren’t knights, these ‘Marines’ are most certainly men and, surprisingly, women of the Warrior. Sons and daughters who dedicated their lives not for lords, but their very realm and its people, something that Willifer, as a man who discarded his Crakehall name, could respect. Mother’s Men and Warrior’s Women, some conundrum if there’s any.

Then he was guided to the newly installed ‘Water Fountain’, it was like a Water Well but better. That's how it was explained to him by a ‘Seabee’, another order but one that adheres to the ways of the Smith and the Warrior alike. The Smallfolk watched eagerly, waiting for the deemed ‘Mother’s Men’ to be approved and blessed by him.

Clean water, that's free to all? How kind of them to personally finance such an endeavor. Lord Tyran did not jest about a single thing. He thought as he watched a Marine fill a carpenter's bucket fill of water. Clear cups had been placed on a table next to it for drinking. He took one and filled it.

The water's cold? These men were truly blessed by the Smith himself. He held the cup to the sky and could see straight through, just like Myrish Glass. He just so happened to be parched when the cup reached his lips. It was delicious.

Lady Kelly and two men, Lord Heisler and Lord Collins, both preferred to go by Commander instead of Lord, proceeded to give a tour of their progress.

 Just what I thought. The Smith indeed guides them. In just a few days' time, the inside of the former taverns has transformed. Filled with pipes, colourful ropes, and torches that required no fire. The substance ‘concrete’ fascinated him the most; it has the consistency of mortar but is as strong as rock when dried.

When Willifer was still a boy at King Joffrey’s Septry, dedicated to one of the old Kings of the Rock, he would watch stonemasons skillfully repair the seven walls of its Sept. Now it was the Stonemasons of Lannisport who were the watchers. Each said the building practices were very similar to their own, just more intuitive.

As they made their way out of the former tavern, Willifer saw that white canopies had been set up in six even rows, marked with a red cross sigil. Lady Kelly explained that the sigil was meant to represent a healer foundation called ‘The Red Cross’. A volunteer guild to help those in need regardless of status, unlike the Maesters, whether it be healing, food, or a place to stay, it reminded him of his fellow brothers and sisters as well as the Braavosi Red Hands. At this moment, they provided the healing.

He was introduced to men and women called the ‘Corpsmen’, the same ones that the smallfolks refer to as the ‘Mother’s Men’, and he can now see why. Unlike the ‘Seabees’ who follow the ways of the Smith and the Warrior, these ones follow the Mother and the Warrior instead. Livesavers and livetakers in equal measures, fascinating indeed. 

So far, not only do these strangers embody at least three aspects of the Seven: the Warrior, the Smith, and the Mother, but they also don’t seem to be interested in spreading their own religion, if they have any, which was good enough for the Septon. As long as they are not friends with those heretic red priests. Gods rest the poor souls burned by those demon worshippers.

Some of these ‘Corpsman’ can be seen performing strange activities on the Smallfolk. One common one was a device that had a large silver coin at one end, and two nail ends at the other that were placed into one's ears. Willifer was given a demonstration and heard his very own heartbeat. The rhythm of an organ that gave him life.

The Maester Lorwell had a stack of empty notebooks gifted to him to record his experiences. I must converse with him at day’s end, to get a Maester’s opinion. The Septon thought to himself as the Maester finished his third one of the day. One thing the Septon noticed from the ‘Corpsman’ was that they each had an assistant holding a rectangular box with a small Myrish eye attached. They hovered around them, like a bee with a rose.

”Help my daughter, please!” The sound of a desperate mother of blond hair holding a sickly girl caught his ears. A sound that could be recognizable from anywhere.

”Ma’am, please calm down and bring her here. We will do everything we can.” It was one of the ‘Corpsman’, a short man with Dornish-like features.

”She has the Rot, and we have nowhere else to turn to. Maester Barland said that she’s in the gods’ hands now, but the Mother has not answered me, nor the Maiden, nor even the Stranger wants to end my daughter’s suffering. Please help her!” The voice was frantic. But this Rot brings him great sadness.

Corpsman Simon Vang was on station when the next woman came to his canopy. She held her child, who was covered by a rough-spun blanket. She explained that her daughter has been ill for a few weeks and has not been able to be in the sun for too long. He explained that they would do all that they could to help her. But she became frantic, pleading for reassurance.

She mentioned something about ‘Rot’, which made no sense to him, and how their religion was not helping, which was par for the course; he had three previous patients say the same thing. All it turned out to be was either too much alcohol, a broken bone, or a concussion. It took a bit more convincing to get the woman to put her child down on the table for his examination.

The child held the blanket tightly over herself. Clearly embarrassed by whatever she had. She wore basic pants and shoes so he couldn’t see her skin. “If you could allow me to remove the blanket. I can see how I can help you.” But all the girl did was shake her head. Her mother went to remove it, but Simon moved a hand to stop her.

The girl had moved a hand, revealing what she may have. Discoloring on the hand, red patches scattered randomly. The pinky and ring fingers were swollen and pale, which made no sense. Skin on the knuckles had crimson scabs, and between the fingers the flesh was raw with sores. He could see that the palm nerves leading to the arm were enlarged.

The only thought that went through Simon's mind was what this poor kid was going through. No wonder her mother prayed for her suffering to end. “Shh, hey, it will be ok, dear, we are here to help.” He comforted her as best he could. It was enough to convince her to let go of the blanket. Slowly, he removed the blanket. She had another roughspun shirt on, with patches of dried purple liquid.

Form of Leprosy, maybe? The other hand and the arms had the same symptoms as the first. The neck's nerves were enlarged like the hands, like a spiderweb. The worst of it, whatever it was, was on this little girl's face. The skin had multiple purple and red lumps. One big one was on the left eyelid, surrounded by nerves forcing the eye shut. Whatever it was caused part of the eyebrow to fall off. The eye should be savable. The girl's free eye moved to something behind him.

“Gods be good!” A voice came from behind, and he looked to see a group. A man in some religious getup, three others in crimson, one is crimson and yellow, and the Ambassador with those two Seabees commanders. He couldn’t remember their names, never had the chance to properly meet them. The one who had the outburst was the one in the religious getup, a Septon Willifer.

Simon gave that one the old stink eye, “Can you please not scare my patient? If you want to gawk at something, look at a mirror, pal”, then went back to examining the girl. He could feel the shock from that, but he didn’t care; he had a child to help. But the mother had other plans.

“Septon Willifer, please don’t punish this man, he said he’s going to save my daughter!” She got on her hands and knees begging for Simon. It was a strange scene. As Simon watched this, her daughter slid off the table.

She let out a high-pitched screech and fell to her side, clutching her legs. “My feet. Mother, my feet hurt!” But she never flinched to help her. Her body was shaking in fear, not just for her daughter, but for herself and Simon. To be so rude to a Septon who speaks to the gods.

“Fuck, get her back to the table now!” Simon cursed as he went and picked the crying girl up and laid her down on the table. A fellow corpswoman who was filming put her camera down and helped him take her shoes off to reveal what had happened. Maester Lorwell also rushed over to assist him with the girl. Leaving behind a man getting a deep cut cleaned.

Six large former lumps had popped, leaving a thin layer of purply-red ooze covering the child's feet. “I need gauze and bandages,” Simon ordered the Corpswoman to the first aid supplies. Maester Lorwell held the girl steady on the table not to pop any more. “Ma’am… Ma’am!” Simon tried to get the mother's attention to help comfort her child, but she was still groveling to the Septon’s feet.

Simon looked at the Ambassador to do something, anything to make the situation better. Fix this, damnit!

Kelly placed a hand on the tall man's shoulder. “Septon Willifer, a word, please?” Once she caught his attention, she moved him into a group circle with the other Lords.

Kelly started with the Septon, “Alright, first. Why the outburst about the kid?” Perplexity riddled his face.

“I’m afraid that child will meet the Stranger soon, with very painful days ahead. It’s the same illness that befell King Viserys the Peaceful. This is the first time I have seen it at such severity, not on parchment, and on a child no less. It’s not surprising that a Maester would give up. How the child hasn't passed on yet…” He then looked to the Corpsmen and Maester cleaning the sores on her feet. The mother is now by her side, praying.

“They are the Lantells, the keepers of the Siren’s Song, a tavern popular with the Smallfolk and Highborn of the city, and her youngest daughter.” Lord Commander Torren said. 

 “Her husband is the steward of Castle Golden Keep. They may not be true nobles, but their coins and blood ties with House Lannister allowed them a Maester’s aid, but I guess it wasn’t enough. To see this happen to such good people is truly disheartening." Torren shakes his head in sadness.

She thought for a moment, the symptoms the girl is suffering, and the closest disease related. Then it came to her. With a gentle smile, she went to the Corpsmen caring for the girl. She just passed out from the pain, her breathing calm. Her mother is still praying.

She asked the man near the newly installed sink cleaning. “Give her a sedative?” He nodded as he scrubbed his hands clean. She then questioned him about what it could be and if her thought was right. And nodded again. That's all I needed. 

Turning on her heel, she walked over to the mother and gestured for the group to come over to her. She placed a hand on the mother's shoulder. “What's your name?”

She looked up to her, eyes red and puffy from the tears, “Jana, my name is Jana, M’lady.”

“I may have some good news, Jana. Here.” Kelly reached her hand out and lifted Jana to her feet. Slowly, Jana shuffled over to the group. “And what is your daughter's name?” 

“Lyra, M’lady.” Once everyone was there, all of them were confused. Kelly smiled and explained.

“From what I have been told, Jana's daughter most likely has a disease called Leprosy, or something very similar. Which means that we will be able to help Lyra, and anyone else who is suffering from this.”

“Pardon me, Lady Kelly, but what you are saying sounds like utter nonsense. This is a Rot, a deadly disease that not even the greatest silver-chained Archmaesters know the cure for.” Ser Kevan questioned as the other Lords nodded,  grunted, and even yelled in agreement, except for Lord Tywin, who held his hand up to calm his bannermen.

“How long would it take to eradicate?” Tywin then asked as he glanced with interest at the Corpsmen and Maester.

Kelly thought for a moment, then replied with the best of her knowledge. “Depending on the strain, about six to twelve months, give or take. If it’s a cousin to our variants, then the treatments should work the same. If not, then we’ll need to look for common drugs that can cure it.”

Jana looked at her, tears forming in her eyes, “M’lady, s-so you are saying, t-there is a chance to save my daughter. My sweet Lyra?”

Kelly smiled, “Yes, your daughter can still be saved”. Jana then broke down, letting out tears of gratitude.