After the Feast at Winterfell

[Ollie]

Olander sat at a small trestle table in one of the many guest chambers at Winterfell. A single sconce held a burning brand that lit the room with strange, dancing lights that made the crannogman think of Pylos the Apostate. He had sent a man nigh fifteen minutes ago, the Burley's would be arriving soon.

[The Stranger]

The Burley, Burely Flail and Sickle, arrived, flanked by his son, Burley Axe, and his grandson Burley Bastard Sword.

"So you have some piece of the old ways to show us eh Reed?" The old man asked.

[Ollie]

"It was cold when I was last asleep," he said in that soft crannog quietness that demanded attention. "In the dream, it was cold. A mist queer mist whorled about me, a thick fog that dimmed the senses. There was a sinister air about, Burley, but I was not afraid, no. I was home."

Olander paused, unblinking eyes shifting from one clansmen to the next. "I was seeing a swamp, and there was a young man, wading through the thick fen. He held his sword aloft, a great and powerful looking thing, crystalline, as clear as ice," the Reed paused, letting the effect wash over them.

"His eyes were keen, sharp as it were, alert for dangers that might lurk ahead. Though it was not in the distance that he should have set his gaze, but close at hand, behind him, for a great leach crept up his neck, and drained away his life," he finished, voice in a hush barely above a whisper.

[The Stranger]

The Burleys all draw around each other feeling the darkness of Olander's words floating in the area.

"This is not an auspicious dream." Said Burley Battle Axe.

[Ollie]

Olander nodded and canted his head to the side. Certainly it wasn't auspicious, he mused, for Roose Stark, in any case. He said nothing, waiting to hear from the eldest Burley.

[The Stranger]

"What was your interpretation of this dream," Asked The Burley, as he tugged on a gnarl of long grey hair.

[Ollie]

"The man with the crystalline sword is our own young liege lord, Roose Stark, wielder of Ice. He goes about the swamp in the way he does his leadership, murkily in search of things he will never find. While he looks for foes in distant places, he fails to see the thing nearest him, that is his downfall."

[The Stranger]

"And what does the leech represent?" Burley asked.

[Ollie]

"The leech is the one that drains power, stealing it away to put in better hands."

[The Stranger]

"How does a leech sucking blood put the power in better hands?" Asked Bastard Sword Burley curiously. Battle Axe nodded, as he also found this interpretation quite questionable.

[Ollie]

Olander looks squarely in the eye. It wasn't a terrible surprise that the clansmen would have need for the greendream to be interpreted at length. Further more, it wasn't expected for them to have a great knowledge of the creatures of the Neck.

"The leech will skulk in the boggy waters of the Neck, awaiting prey. They'll attach themselves to great beasts, or even men, that think themselves mighty to such a small thing. Some simply drain the blood. Other inject a venom that numbs the senses. A few will latch on and refuse to be removed, until the sickness takes the host. The result is similar. The host dies, and the leach is swollen.

"It ends not here, no. The carcass will be picked apart by the swamp, slowly devoured by the fish, the frog, the crab, and even the lizard-lion. Even the leeches themselves are eaten, filling the bellies and strengthening the birds and other such feeders.

"This is the way of life. Those that think themselves mighty are brought down by the lowly, the ones thought inconsequential. And once this occurs, does the strength and power truly appear in the world."

[The Stranger]

The Burleys look at each other for a moment, clearly skeptical, but eventually they nodd solemnly.

"It maybe as you say. Very well, speak to us plainly about what you spoke of at the feast. I would hear your plan."

[Ollie]

Olander nodded, every shining grin and smug smirk hid underneath his tepid, reserved visage.

"Roose Stark is close to me. He sends me to important tasks, to eliminate his threats, to reinforce the defenses of the North. He places his trust in me heavily, however much the trust from such an ineffectual leader might be worth. It would be a simple thing to end his life. There is no end to the means by which this might be accomplished.

"Killing him now would serve no purpose, however. Without an heir to the North, the realm would be plunged into strife, and war amongst ourselves; clearly a poor path to increasing the might of the North.

"If there was another Stark however, if Roose begot a son, a regent would be declared. The boy would be well taken care after, and would be raised to be a true Lord of the North."

[The Stranger]

"You be thinking that you'd be that Regent eh?" The Burley asked, rhetorically. "Be a strong challenge to that from the Dreadlord, assuming the Iron Throne don't take not interest in the answer."

[Ollie]

"Should His Grace take an interest in the matter, however unlikely that might be, surely you good men of Burley, the very blood of the North, know what a firm friend and trusted bannerlord to Roose Stark I was. What better a man to raise his child than his right hand?"

"As for Lord Malegant, Roose Stark has assigned him to aid in the building of Moat Cailin. I can take to the man like his oldest bedfellow, and if not, why," he said, eyes flashing in the torch light, "raising a castle is dangerous work."