Levi stood by the command and walked beside young Lord Benjen Stark through the muddy streets of Wintertown.

"When I heard your caravan had arrived," Benjen began, "I was hoping u came here. that why i came to see for myself its good to see you and not just your workers. People talk, you know. About a merchant who owns some caravans roam the North, making trade deals from Hornwood, Castle Cerwyn, Barrowton, Ramsgate, Dreadfort, from village to village and here in Wintertown."

Levi nodded quietly.

Young Lord Benjen Stark continued. "I also heard from my father… that a certain young man built a town in the Neck. A boy named Levi." His mouth curled into a grin. "Father said he couldn't believe it at first. Said the Crannogmen send silver tags every year to Winterfell. Silver from a place no one that owns a lordship."

Levi nodded again. "It's only fair. I built on their land, it's my duty to pay."

Benjen smiled, his breath misting in the cold. "Well, you've done more than that. Your caravans bring food and coin. Thanks to them, it's easier here now. Even my sister Lyanna's curious. She keeps asking how someone our age managed to build a town out of a swamp."

Levi smiled faintly. "We built it together. All of us. That's the truth of it. How is her ladyship, if I may ask?"

Benjen gave a fond sigh. "She's… good. Great, actually. Best rider I've ever seen. Better than me, and I've been at it since I could walk. Lately, she's been pretending to be one of the squires training under Ser Rodrik Cassel. Tries to blend in with the boys and swing a blade. No one can talk her out of it."

He laughed at the memory.

"I've wanted to see your town with my own eyes," Benjen said. "But Father says I've got training to finish swordsmanship, riding, a dozen other things."

By then, they'd reached the outer walls of Winterfell.

Young Lord Benjen Stark stopped, turning to Levi. "Have you trained since last time? Since that bandit raid?"

Levi nodded. "A bit in the spear, bow and sword. Not enough to best a knight but enough to keep me from dying to bandits."

Benjen looked ahead toward the gate. "Show me."

Levi raised a brow.

Benjen nodded. "Come on. Let's go to the training yard. I want to see what Ser Rodrik Cassel thinks of your training."

Levi hesitated. The last time he'd entered Winterfell, it had been because of the raid of his caravan when it was attacked, by choosing mercy the boys who did it got sent to the Wall.

Still, he nodded. "Alright."

As they approached the gate, two guards stepped forward, arms crossing.

"Leave your bow and blade," one said.

Benjen stepped forward. "He's here to spar under Ser Rodrik's watch. He'll need his weapons."

The guards exchanged glances. Then, reluctantly, stepped aside.

Inside the training yard, young boys drilled under Ser Rodrik Cassel's stern gaze. He still looked the same bushy whiskers, square jaw, arms like tree trunks.

As they drew closer, Ser Rodrik turned toward them, narrowing his eyes.

"Young Lord Benjen," he said. "You left training early. And I see you've brought company."

Benjen nodded. "This is Levi. The one we talked about, the boy from the Neck."

Ser Rodrik scratched his beard. "Ah, yes. The one whose caravan was raided on his trip to the north."

Benjen blinked and turned to Levi. "Raided?"

Levi nodded. "A group of raiders tried to rob us near the edge of town before. When things settled, I asked The lord of Winterfell for mercy on their behalf. They were sent to the Wall."

Benjen gave a quiet hum of understanding. "I see."

Then he turned to the master-at-arms. "Ser Rodrik, Levi says he's been training. I'd like to see what he's learned."

Ser Rodrik nodded. "Very well." He raised his voice. "Everyone, halt!"

The yard grew still. He pointed to one of the boys. "Wylis. Come test this young man."

A big boy nearly six feet tall stepped forward. He looked barely into his teens but moved like a lad used to lifting more than just practice swords.

Levi placed his bow and steel blade to the side and picked up a wooden sword.

The two stepped into the center of the yard.

"You may begin," Ser Rodrik called.

They circled each other. Wylis struck first, a heavy swing that Levi barely dodged. He countered with a low strike toward the boy's legs, but Wylis twisted away.

Another swing came Levi ducked under it and landed a clean strike to Wylis's arm. The big lad yelped, shaking out his hand, but didn't back down.

They circled again.

This time, Levi feinted low, then thrust forward, catching Wylis in the belly. But the boy powered through it, striking Levi's shoulder with enough force to make him wince.

They broke apart.

Then Levi darted forward again another quick jab to Wylis's side.

"Stop," Ser Rodrik called.

Both lowered their blades.

"Wylis!" a woman's voice barked from across the yard. "Time to serve supper!"

Levi blinked. "Serve food?"

The other boys laughed.

Ser Rodrik chuckled. "He's twelve. Tall as a man, strong as a mule but his great-grandmother runs the kitchens. Wants him to train and serve meals."

Levi stared, rubbing his sore shoulder. "He's twelve? He's as tall as me, by the old Gods…"

Benjen grinned. "You did well, actually."

Ser Rodrik nodded. "He studies his opponent, looks for openings. Could hold his own in a real fight. Not against a knight, mind you but he wouldn't die easy."

Benjen smirked. "That's something, isn't it?"

From behind them, someone said:

"Better than dead, if you ask me."