Brother John was somewhat surprised.
"Ethan—you can't read? Judging from the way you speak I thought you were well-educated."
Ethan explained helplessly:
"I don't recognize the script here—but I read a great deal back home. The two things don't contradict each other."
John slapped the table decisively.
"It's settled then. Starting tomorrow I'll teach you the letters and script of Westeros.
In the month before we reach Winterfell I'll make sure you can read at least the first chapter of *The Seven-Pointed Star*!"
Oh? That was actually a good idea.
Ethan had long wanted to learn the local writing system but various events had kept delaying it.
Since Brother John was willing to teach that was perfect.
"Are the three of you heading to Winterfell?"
The bard's face lit up when he heard their destination.
"What a coincidence! I'm going to Winterfell too!"
Ethan gave him a suspicious glance.
"Really? You didn't just decide that on the spot did you?"
"Of course not." Lennar waved his hand quickly.
"Winterfell was always my next stop. By the way—what are you going there for?"
"I'm a wandering swordsman named Ethan Cole. I'm traveling to Winterfell with my apprentice Kevin Turner to look for work."
Since traveling with Brother John Ethan had stopped calling himself a knight and instead presented himself as a wandering swordsman. Pretending to be a follower of the Seven in front of an actual sworn brother felt a little awkward.
Kevin gave Lennar a small nod by way of greeting.
Lennar couldn't help exclaiming:
"What a coincidence! I'm also going to Winterfell to look for work."
Come to think of it a bard's profession was quite similar to that of a wandering swordsman.
Bards had to travel constantly changing locations to perform. Even if they earned enough to lead their own troupe they rarely settled in one place.
Wandering swordsmen and mercenary knights also had to keep moving changing employers and battlefields. Even if they earned enough to command their own company they rarely put down roots.
"Ethan don't you think our meeting was truly arranged by the gods?"
Ethan smiled but said nothing.
Lennar pressed on:
"Look—as a newly arrived wandering swordsman not even a knight why would the locals hire you?
Hiring a bad bard just means listening to a few terrible songs.
Hiring a bad wandering swordsman could cost you your life."
Ethan frowned. He hadn't considered that angle before.
Since arriving in Westeros he had only taken two contracts from Rodney Corbray: one to suppress bandits and one to escort a caravan.
In both cases he had already proven his worth with pirate heads.
But in a new place—who could vouch for him?
Ethan asked:
"So what's your suggestion?"
"Let's travel to Winterfell together.
You tell me the story of Brother An in the wagon and I'll weave your name into the tale—spread your fame.
As long as your fighting ability matches the reputation you won't lack for offers in the future."
Lennar paused then added:
"Even if your strength is a little… lacking it doesn't matter.
Are all the famous mercenary captains in the world one-man armies who can defeat a thousand? Not necessarily.
So I think we can help each other—as long as you're willing to share a few interesting foreign tales from that head of yours…"
The proposal was genuinely tempting.
Even the finest wine needs promotion.
Marketing tactics were nothing new to Ethan who had grown up in a hyper-commercialized society.
This could work quite well…
Hearing this Kevin asked eagerly:
"Master Lennar—could my teacher's deeds be turned into a story?"
Lennar's eyes brightened. For a bard everything was material.
"Oh? Tell me."
"Three months ago my teacher led me into the lands of House Corbray…"
Kevin gave a concise but vivid account of Ethan's battle against the pirates in Corbray territory.
Both Brother John and Lennar listened in astonishment.
Brother John asked puzzled:
"Ethan—if you're so strong how did you end up so badly wounded just a few days ago?"
"That's… another story entirely."
Ethan answered awkwardly quickly changing the subject. He turned to Lennar:
"I think your idea is excellent. How about this—you travel with us and along the way I'll share good tales from my homeland.
During the journey I'll protect you to the best of my ability—as long as you don't deliberately cause trouble.
Your only task is to spread my name through your stories—however you see fit.
If anyone actually offers me work because of your promotion I'm willing to give you a fair share of the reward as thanks. What do you say?"
After hearing that Ethan had single-handedly slain more than ten Skagosi Lennar had already lost any thought of bargaining for stories alone.
A warrior of that caliber once he completed even one good contract would never lack employers.
The so-called "fame-spreading" was simply bait to extract the tales Lennar truly wanted.
He hadn't expected Ethan to actually accept.
Overjoyed he immediately extended his hand.
"Then it's a deal."
Ethan shook firmly.
"Deal."
So from the next day onward Lennar joined Ethan's small traveling party.
Compared to Brother John—who was determined to embrace hardship—Lennar knew far better how to look after himself.
He owned a horse.
A very thin horse—sickly-looking and listless—yet somehow strong enough to carry him forward. Ethan found it impressive.
When Ethan asked why he didn't buy a better mount Lennar laughed.
"Buy a fine horse—so bandits will have something worth stealing?"
He drew a simple but razor-sharp dagger from his belt twirled it once and slid it back.
"I'm not afraid… but why invite trouble for myself—or for others?"
Ethan recalled Brother John's identical reaction when he'd tried to force a gold dragon on him.
He gained a deeper appreciation of how precarious life really was in Westeros.
On the road to Winterfell Ethan shared the first few chapters of *Journey to the West* with Lennar as a show of good faith—also curious to see whether the bard could do justice to Wu Cheng'en's original work.
Lennar's professionalism was impressive.
He quickly grasped the story's essence.
In the adapted version Sun Wukong became a wild chieftain ruling from mountain strongholds.
Heaven transformed into a mighty sorcerous empire reminiscent of Valyria.
The Western Paradise became the celestial court of the Seven.
Brother John initially frowned at the changes—but after hearing two chapters he admitted quietly:
"Hm… it's actually not bad."
Spreading tales that honored the Seven in the North could only do good so he raised no further objection.
Lennar however spent considerable effort figuring out how to insert Ethan into the narrative.
"Ethan—Brother An's first disciple was born from stone. Can he still have descendants?"
Ethan thought for a moment.
"I don't know—probably. Why?"
Lennar looked pained.
"He has to be able to have children!
Otherwise how do we tie your lineage to him?
You realize this story has to feel like it happened hundreds—maybe thousands—of years ago.
Otherwise people will immediately question its authenticity."
"No need—it's fiction anyway."
"Nonsense. The story can be invented—but it has to *feel* real.
It has to seem like something that could happen right here around us.
That creates immersion—makes listeners want to keep hearing.
And if it's obviously fake—how am I supposed to build your reputation?"
"Fine then. He'll take your surname. Call him Wilcon Cole."
*Great—Sun Wukong now has a Westerosi name.
Hopefully no angry monkey shows up later to beat him to death with a staff.*
By day Ethan and Lennar walked side by side debating arguing refining and localizing *Journey to the West* for Westerosi ears.
By night Lennar performed in whatever tavern they lodged at.
When there was no tavern the village square worked just as well.
People would drag out stools and benches to listen—as long as the performance was free.
Judging by the crowds' reactions the adaptation was a resounding success.
That only strengthened Lennar's determination to stay close to Ethan.
If he could spend months—or even years—extracting a lifetime's worth of epic material from this man every hardship would be worthwhile.
During daylight hours Ethan told stories to Lennar.
At night he had no time to drink.
Instead he sat with Brother John an old copy of *The Seven-Pointed Star* open between them and began learning the alphabet.
To Ethan mastering the ways of Westeros felt like an advanced mathematics exam.
Learning the local script on the other hand felt like fourth-grade homework.
On the third day after they began he tested himself and discovered he possessed near-perfect recall.
Brother John only had to read each character aloud once—Ethan could repeat it flawlessly.
By the time they passed Sevenstreams with three days still remaining to Winterfell Ethan could already recite the opening chapters of *The Seven-Pointed Star* from memory.
Brother John—who had needed two full years to read the holy text fluently—was deeply shaken.
He even began to doubt whether *he* was truly favored by the Seven.
If his own modest progress counted as divine favor… then what did Ethan's ability represent?
Perhaps he should find an opportunity to knight Ethan… as his personal contribution to the Faith.
On the final night of the journey Ethan's small party finally reached Winterhold—the town lying just outside Winterfell's walls.
Winterhold earned its name because the settlement stood mostly empty during summer—but in winter it swelled into a lively gathering place for common folk.
Winterhold sat outside the eastern gate of Winterfell roughly a hundred meters from the walls.
The town was surprisingly large—almost rivaling White Harbor in size.
At its heart lay a busy market filled with rows of wooden merchant stalls.
The streets were muddy lined with houses built of raw logs and rough stone.
A communal well stood in the central square.
The Kingsroad ran alongside the town stretching eastward toward Winterfell itself.
After asking around Ethan learned that the most well-regarded inn in the area was called the Smoked Wood Tavern.
The name sounded warm and inviting.
They reached Winterhold in the late afternoon.
Guided by one of the tavern's stableboys Ethan and his companions led their horses to the yard tied them securely and then entered the main hall.
Lennar naturally went straight to the innkeeper to inquire whether they needed a bard's performance that evening.
Ethan approached one of the serving men.
In this world taverns functioned much like the teahouses of his old Sichuan home: drinking was secondary to conversation laughter and entertainment.
The staff in such places were therefore well-informed and well-connected.
Ethan stepped up to the bar placed a bronze star on the counter with a soft *clink* and asked:
"My companions and I plan to stay in Winterhold for a while—preferably in a small courtyard away from the main crowds.
Do you have any recommendations?"
The waiter gave a practiced smile pocketed the coin and answered:
"Of course. It's summer now—many houses in Winterhold stand empty.
Because no one lives in them they're very quiet.
The owners are happy to rent them out to travelers who appreciate the peace—in exchange for a little coin."
Ethan nodded and placed another bronze star on the bar.
"Do you know how to contact these generous owners?"
The waiter's smile widened.
"Many of them are friends of mine.
If you're interested I can take you to see several tomorrow morning and help you choose one that suits you."
Ethan turned to Brother John.
"Brother John—would you like to come along tomorrow?"
Brother John was visibly tempted.
Since he planned to establish a foothold of the Faith here renting or even buying a house would be the ideal first step.
Traditionally on his pilgrimage he should sleep in the open or in believers' homes.
But the cold North was no place for prolonged camping—and finding hosts among the handful of Seven-worshippers willing to shelter a wandering brother was difficult.
So Brother John nodded.
"Then… yes. Let's go look for houses together."
"Perfect. Since we've decided to house-hunt together let's all stay right here tonight.
Otherwise it'll be inconvenient to meet up tomorrow."
"Well… um…"
Brother John searched for a polite way to refuse.
According to their original agreement once they reached Winterfell his obligation ended—he should no longer impose on Ethan and Kevin.
Before he could frame the words Ethan was already speaking to the waiter:
"You have rooms available right? Prepare two—one for me and my apprentice one for Brother John. Put them on my account."
Clearly one room was intended for the monk.
Ethan and Kevin always shared; Lennar's lodging was usually covered by whatever he earned performing so Ethan didn't need to cover him.
Hearing this Brother John's unspoken refusal dissolved into a helpless sigh.
"…Very well. As you wish…"
That night—except for Lennar who had to work—Ethan Kevin and Brother John all retired early.
The next morning the three rose washed quickly and gathered in the common room to wait for the waiter's call.
At this hour the tavern was nearly empty save for a few guests eating breakfast.
After greeting the innkeeper the waiter changed into clean clothes and led the four of them out to explore Winterhold.
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