Winterfell was freezing. Outside the thick stone walls, a blizzard raged on, snow mixed in the air to form a haze of white. Corlys walked over to the large window to observe the landscape, his purple gaze flicking over the frigid grove and stretch of land. Already he had been there for two days and it seemed as if nothing changed. Still, snow fell, what seemed at all hours of the day and night, building nothing but of more snow that he and his men would have to trug through.

Corlys was here to find out who's been going and hijacking his ships. For over the past moon and a half, he’s been losing money and men, a little over four ships have gone missing. And another two came back damaged and with fewer goods and men than when it left his docks. All of them had came to, or near, the North, and he was determined not to let it happen again.