After gaining Jon's consent, Aldric led Kevin and the Bastard of Winterfell into the woods. They found Ghost and Bell gnawing on a deer carcass.
Without fanfare, Aldric implanted the Light Seeds into the beasts.
Two days later, he dragged Bell over, enduring the bear's annoyed grunts as he checked every inch of fur and muscle. The bear was fine—healthier, even. Ghost, too, seemed sharper, his silent movements leaving a faint, almost imperceptible trail of warmth.
"Well," Aldric said, dusting off his hands. "Physically, they're perfect. Mentally... they can't talk, so I can't ask them if they feel the urge to crusade. But they seem normal. Have you decided?"
"Is there anything to decide?" Kevin asked immediately.
Jon nodded. "I'm ready, Teacher."
"Good. Tonight, under the eyes of the Silver Hand, you become the first Sunwalkers of this world."
The ceremony was held in the center of the camp. Torches flickered in the wind, casting long, dancing shadows. The men of the Silver Hand stood in a circle, silent and expectant.
Aldric stood before them. He wasn't wearing his usual mercenary leathers, but his full plate, polished to a mirror sheen.
"Brothers and sisters," Aldric's voice carried over the crackle of the fire. "You have seen the power of the Sun. You have seen lives snatched from the Stranger's grasp. Many of you have asked if you, too, can wield this Light."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"Tonight, I answer you. Any of you who accept the Path of the Sun can walk in the Light. Tonight, we witness the ascension of Kevin Turner of the Fingers and Jon Snow of Winterfell."
Kevin and Jon stepped forward. They had scrubbed their armor until it gleamed. Kevin in his ornate, wave-patterned plate; Jon in the stark black leather and mail of the Starks.
They knelt.
"Teacher," they said in unison.
"Do you accept the Path of Light?" Aldric asked, his voice grave.
"I do!"
"Will you walk in the Light?"
"I do!"
"Will you give your life for the cause of An'she?"
"I do!"
Aldric summoned the Light Resonance Crystal. It hovered above them, a spinning prism of liquid gold. Two drops of golden fluid fell, striking their foreheads.
Light exploded in their eyes.
"Teacher!" Kevin gasped, his irises flooding with gold. "I see... I see the world!"
Jon blinked, golden mist swirling in his grey eyes. He raised a hand, and a ball of soft, warm light materialized in his palm. "Is this... the power?"
"By the name of An'she," Aldric declared, "I name you Sunwalkers. Rise."
They stood and turned to face their comrades. A figure of silver and a figure of black, flanked by their golden commander.
The cheers of the Silver Hand shook the trees.
The next few days were a crash course.
The Light Seed didn't just grant power; it granted knowledge. It was like downloading a skill book.
Kevin, aggressive and hot-headed, naturally gravitated toward the path of Retribution. He mastered Holy Light, Seal of the Crusader, Judgment, and Purify.
Jon, more guarded and protective, took to the path of Protection. He learned Flash of Light, Seal of Righteousness, Shield of Righteousness, and Purify.
To practice, Aldric took them to the refugee camp. They spent days healing the sick, turning the shantytown into a training ground for paladins.
But as the refugees dwindled and the Riverlords departed, Brother John grew restless.
"I must go," the blacksmith-monk told Aldric one morning, packing his meager belongings. "My family is in the path of the war. I haven't seen them in three years."
"It's dangerous," Aldric warned. "Let me send an escort."
"No," John shook his head. "Soldiers attract arrows. A poor septon is invisible. Besides, the army will move soon. You can't spare men."
Aldric sighed. He couldn't stop him.
"John," Aldric said. "A gift. Before you go."
"A gift?" John raised an eyebrow.
"Close your eyes."
"Don't play tricks, Aldric. Remember that time you gave me vinegar and called it Arbor Gold?"
As John grumbled with his eyes shut, Aldric summoned the crystal. Quick as a snake, he let a drop of the Light Seed fall onto the monk's forehead. It absorbed instantly.
Then, he pulled a dagger from his belt—a mage-blade from Azeroth, sleek and enchanted.
"Open."
John blinked. "Did you do something?"
"Just checking your aura," Aldric lied. He handed him the dagger. "Take this. For protection."
John drew the blade. The steel rippled like water, sharp enough to shave with. "This is Valyrian steel... or something close to it. It's too much."
"Take it," Aldric insisted.
John hesitated, then unclasped the iron hammer pendant he had worn for six years. "I have nothing of value. But take this. May the Smith forge your path."
They embraced. Lennar, the dwarf, ran up to say his goodbyes, and then the monk walked away into the dawn mist.
Aldric watched him go. May the Light keep you, John. Even if you don't know you carry it.
A week later, the order came. The Northern Army marched West.
Their target: the Golden Tooth.
It was the gateway to the Westerlands, a massive fortress plugging the only pass through the hills. Whoever held the Tooth held the door. And for years, the Leffords—Lannister bannermen—had held it tight.
Robb halted the main host a day's march away. He took a small scouting party to the ridge overlooking the castle.
Aldric lay in the brush beside Robb, the Greatjon, Maege Mormont, and Rickard Karstark.
"Can we take it?" Robb asked, staring at the formidable walls.
"Give me two hundred men," the Greatjon rumbled, gripping his sword. "I'll scale the walls and open the gate myself!"
"Don't be a fool," Maege Mormont scoffed. "Without siege engines, ten thousand men couldn't take that rock. It's the throat of the West. Tywin knows its value."
"Stealth?" Dacey Mormont suggested. "We could climb at night..."
"Impossible," a Frey captain interrupted. "Look at the terrain. No cover. Grass for a mile. The watchtowers would spot a rat crossing that field."
"He's right," Rickard Karstark agreed gloomily. "Even if you opened the gate, the alarm would sound before we could cross the gap. We'd be charging into a meat grinder."
Robb chewed his lip, frustration etching lines into his young face. The Golden Tooth was a cork in the bottle, and they didn't have a corkscrew.
Aldric looked at the fortress. He didn't see walls. He saw a math problem.
High walls. Narrow pass. Alert guards.
But he had something they didn't. He had Sunwalkers. And he had a very specific set of skills from a world where "aggro" was a tactical resource.
"Your Grace," Aldric said quietly. "If we can't sneak in... maybe we can make them come out."
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