The teachings of the old Maester had proven useful. If ever Levi needed to found a house of his own, he now knew the laws, customs, and routes a man could take. All he needed was time.

A moon had passed.

With Jory, Lyle, and Arl out recruiting, word had spread beyond town. Some older men from nearby hamlets had joined in, drawn by whispers of fair treatment and steady food. Soon, Levi's militia had grown to three hundred men. They trained in shifts half drilling with spears or bows, half posted to patrol and keep order in town.

On one of those cold, gray mornings, Ser Sedge came by Levi's home.

He stood at the doorway, frowning slightly. "That's a fair number of men you've gathered, lad."

Levi met his gaze calmly. "Fifty came from the town, the rest from the surrounding villages. All of them just want something to do. And to eat."

Ser Sedge didn't argue. He only gave a long sigh and rubbed his chin. "Still, best to stop now. If you raise more, some might think you're laying claim to something that isn't yours."

Levi smiled, then offered the bailiff a quiet reply. "What are you afraid of losing, Ser? When nothing in this world truly belongs to any of us?"

Sedge gave a grunt that might've been a laugh or a warning. "So long as it's for the caravans and peacekeeping, I'll let it be. But no more, lad."

Levi nodded. "No more."

The Bailiff seemed content with that. Before leaving, he mentioned the new taxes trickling in from Winterfell. More coin flowing out of the town than before, but Levi, by his own words, owned nothing. And so he lost nothing.

The Old Maester, continued to advise Levi when he asked, though he no longer rose from his bed in the back room. His mind remained sharp as ever.

Town life had grown dull since then. Paperwork piled high. Traders came and went. Most problems were solved with silver, not steel.

The smiths had managed to finish 150 spears by the end of the moon. Killi delivered 50 good bows. No swords. No shields. Still, it was enough. Levi's cheat engine recognized the spears and bows once they were forged and made. That was something he was more than happy for.

Some of Levi's caravans had taken to buying spears and bows from other towns fifty of each. A handful of swords too, maybe twenty-five. No shields yet. The cheat engine didn't recognize what was bought only what was made. As if it ever understood the difference.

So Levi gave the order.

"No more need to forge them. I'll supply the rest myself."

And he did. One night at a time, he quietly summoned a hundred spears and two hundred bows, spacing each item. The use of the cheat engine was as ever easy to use. But he noticed something had changed in him. Every time he used it now, something inside him felt Lost and Distant. As if a piece of him slipped away.

But he didn't stop. Since it mattered not.

Now, his men were armed and armored, clothed in dark gambesons with bows in hand with spears and swords. The town stood quiet. The roads were safe. Merchants passed through with little trouble. Coins changed hands. No blood spilled.

It was peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Levi had grown restless. The idea of being named a lord still eluded him. No titles had been offered. No Lords came knocking. No war broke out to elevate him in chaos.

And so, he turned his eyes back to the road. He needed to leave, a journey for himself. Needed to see the North again. Maybe, somewhere along the way, a chance would come.

By the time the next moon turned, it was the year 279 AC.

Levi was sixteen.

He made his plans quickly. Told Arl, Kyle, and Munty they'd remain to keep the town safe and to keep training the men. Their time to travel would come. Lysa was given charge of the merchant records and dealings, with the old Maester to advise her when needed. He trusted her most with such tasks.

He said his quiet farewells to the old Maester, Gran Mae, and a few in town he truly cared for and then he left.

This time, his caravan had grown. Twenty carts, up from ten on his first venture. Jory and Lyle rode with him, along with a hundred trained men armed with spears, bows, and chain leather armor. Wren came too, in charge of the ledgers and deals.

Barrowton was their first stop.

It was said the First King of the First Men had been buried there, long ago. Now, it stood as a proper market town, sworn to House Dustin and through them, to the Starks. Levi admired its quiet strength. The cold wind blew strong, but the place stood firm.

He thought again of Moat Cailin. Of rebuilding it. Of raising his own that would one day rival these stone towns and houses. But for now it was only a plan.

He rode a horse for the first time. It was never easy. His thighs ached. His groin screamed. He missed riding in the wagons like his first venture. But he never learned to ride a horse so best learn it now on the road. clumsy as he was.

In Barrowton, Wren bartered for swords. They found ten barely serviceable, but better than none. Levi gave them to the men best suited for close combat. The replaced spears were sold back to the town. More coin, and no real loss. He could always summon more.

From there, they moved on to Torrhen's Square.

Levi had never seen its walls before thirty feet high, gray stone set with sharp corners and squat towers. It wasn't a place they could sell much in, but just seeing it was worth the trip. A feast for the eyes is all it was.

Then came Castle Cerwyn.

Smaller than the others, but no less proud. The castle's lands were rich, fields wide and walled. They only traded with the surrounding villages, and again, no lord came to meet them. Levi didn't mind. He was a merchant right now a nobody if u might add and that's alright.

So the caravan continued on its journey.

Finally, Wintertown.

It had been more then seven seasons since he'd last stood in its muddy streets. Not much had changed.

But the people remembered his caravans. Trade had flowed northward through his efforts. There was more coin now, more food. Fewer boys ran barefoot through the snow, and no one looked hungry.

That alone made the whole thing worth it.

His men took their rest. The guards watched over the caravan. Wren got to work, making deals, flipping goods, collecting coin. Jory and Lyle kept order without needing orders.

Levi spent his days quietly.

Until the third day.

That morning, outside the smithy where he'd gone to check prices to see if he could buy any swords, he heard a voice behind him.

"We meet again."

He turned.

There stood young lord Benjen Stark, still young but taller now, his dark hair tied back in a warrior's tail, his cloak clasped in silver.

"I Hope you remember me, I've heard stories of your caravan." Benjen said. "The merchant who like dealing with northern folk."

Levi kneeled as soon as he saw the young lord Benjen stark. "Lord Benjen it is good to see you in good health, lord."

Benjen smiled.

"Stand, Come. Walk with me."