Hadrian stood in the dimly lit hall of Norhall, the torches casting flickering shadows across the stone walls. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of the sea and pine from the forest below. A sense of accomplishment coursed through him as he thought about his recent success at Winterfell. Lord Ellard Stark had officially recognized him as the Lord of Skagos, and House Peverell now stood among the noble houses of the North. But this was only the beginning.
He turned to Kreacher, who stood before him in his new human form, his expression solemn and attentive. The transformation had been a remarkable success; to anyone who didn't know the truth, Kreacher appeared as a stern and capable man in his middle years. The other house-elves, similarly transformed, hovered nearby, waiting for his orders.
"Kreacher," Hadrian began, his voice carrying an edge of excitement. "We have been recognized. Skagos is ours, and with that comes the responsibility to make this island a place of learning and strength."
Kreacher bowed, a slight smile touching his lips. "Master has achieved much. Kreacher is proud."
Hadrian allowed himself a brief smile in return. "We still have much to do. I want Norhall to be a center of knowledge, a place where our people can learn and grow. For that, we need books. More than what we have here. We need the knowledge stored in the great libraries of Westeros, starting with Winterfell."
The elves nodded eagerly, their eyes shining with anticipation. They had served Hadrian loyally for many years, and they understood the importance of what he was asking.
"Now, listen carefully," Hadrian continued. "I don't want you to steal the books. That would only draw unwanted attention. Instead, you will copy them—every single one. Use the duplication spell I taught you. It will create perfect replicas, indistinguishable from the originals."
The elves nodded again, understanding the delicate nature of their mission. Hadrian reached into his robe and pulled out a small, glowing crystal. He handed it to one of the elves.
"This will help you track your progress," he said. "Place it on the shelf of each section you complete. It will record every title, every scroll. I want a complete collection here in Norhall."
The elf holding the crystal nodded solemnly. "We will do as Master commands."
Hadrian turned his attention back to Kreacher. "You will not be joining them at Winterfell. I have another task for you. I need messengers—owls, to be precise."
Kreacher raised an eyebrow, curiosity mingling with surprise. "Owls, Master?"
Hadrian nodded. "In my old world, owls were used to carry letters across vast distances. They were more reliable than ravens and didn't require the presence of a maester to handle them. I want you to find at least thirty strong, healthy owls from across the North. Bring them here, and I will enchant them to serve us."
Kreacher's face split into a grin. "Kreacher understands. Kreacher will find the best owls for Master."
"Good," Hadrian said, his voice firm. "You have three days. After that, I will begin the enchantments. These owls will be vital for communication with the other lords. We cannot afford to rely solely on the ravens."
Kreacher bowed low, his eyes alight with determination. "Kreacher will not fail."
Hadrian watched as his faithful servant turned and left the hall, already planning his journey. The other elves gathered around, readying themselves for their own mission. There was a sense of purpose in the air, a feeling that everything was coming together as it should.
"Go," Hadrian said softly. "And return with the knowledge that will make Norhall the greatest seat of learning in the North."
With a wave of his hand, the elves vanished, disapparating to the libraries of Winterfell. Hadrian watched them go, a sense of satisfaction settling over him. He had come a long way since arriving in this world, but he knew that the road ahead was still long and fraught with challenges. For now, though, he had taken another significant step toward his ultimate goal.
The library of Winterfell was a vast, sprawling maze of shelves filled with ancient tomes, scrolls, and manuscripts. It was a place of quiet reverence, where the weight of history seemed to hang in the air. Few visited this place beyond the maesters and those who sought the wisdom of the ages. Tonight, however, the library would host unexpected guests.
The elves arrived silently, materializing in the shadowed corners of the room, their human forms blending seamlessly into the surroundings. They moved with a practiced ease, their footsteps barely a whisper on the stone floor. Each carried a small, enchanted satchel—bottomless, like Hadrian's own, and designed specifically for this task.
With a nod from their leader, the elves spread out, each one taking a different section of the library. The duplication spell was a complex piece of magic, but they had practiced it countless times under Hadrian's watchful eye. It required absolute concentration and a delicate touch, ensuring that the copied books retained all the details of the originals, right down to the feel of the parchment and the scent of the ink.
One by one, the elves began their work. Each time they touched a book, a soft glow surrounded it, and a perfect copy materialized in their hands. They worked methodically, moving from shelf to shelf, ensuring that no book was left uncopied. As each section was completed, they placed the glowing crystal Hadrian had given them on the shelf, marking their progress.
Hours passed, the night deepening outside as the elves continued their labor. They moved with a quiet efficiency, their human forms giving them the appearance of scholars diligently studying the ancient texts. No one disturbed them; the library was empty, save for a few slumbering acolytes who had fallen asleep over their work.
By dawn, the library had been copied in its entirety. The elves gathered in the center of the room, their satchels now filled to the brim with knowledge. Their leader held the glowing crystal, its light now pulsing steadily—a sign that the task was complete.
Without a word, they vanished, leaving the library exactly as they had found it, not a single book out of place. The copies they carried would soon be safely stored in Norhall, where Hadrian would have access to the accumulated wisdom of the Starks and their ancestors.
While the elves were busy at Winterfell, Kreacher embarked on his own mission. He traveled across the North, visiting every town, village, and woodland in search of the perfect owls. It was a task that required not only skill but also a deep understanding of the creatures he sought.
He began in the forests near the Dreadfort, where the trees grew thick and the air was filled with the sounds of the wild. The owls here were large and strong, their feathers sleek and their eyes sharp. Kreacher spent hours in the woods, watching and waiting, using soft, magical calls to lure the birds closer. When he found one that met his standards, he used a gentle spell to coax it into a small cage he carried with him.
From there, he traveled to the mountains near Last Hearth, where the snow-covered peaks were home to the great horned owls, their wingspans wide and their cries echoing through the cold air. Kreacher's breath fogged in the icy wind as he climbed the rocky slopes, his eyes scanning the cliffs for signs of movement. He found what he was looking for in a sheltered hollow—a family of owls, their feathers thick and gray, blending perfectly with the stone. With a few whispered words and a careful hand, he added them to his growing collection.
He continued on to the marshes near White Harbor, where the barn owls hunted silently over the reeds, their pale forms ghostly in the moonlight. These owls were smaller but quick and agile, their sharp talons ideal for carrying messages over long distances. Kreacher caught several, marveling at their delicate beauty as he placed them gently in his cages.
Each night, he returned to Norhall, his collection of owls growing steadily. Hadrian greeted him with a smile each time, inspecting the birds with a critical eye before sending Kreacher out once more. By the end of the third day, Kreacher had gathered thirty of the finest owls in the North, each one chosen for its strength, speed, and intelligence.
Hadrian stood in the courtyard of Norhall, the morning sun casting long shadows across the cobblestones, as Kreacher presented his collection. The owls, now perched on a series of specially constructed stands, blinked sleepily in the daylight, their feathers rustling softly in the breeze.
"You've done well, Kreacher," Hadrian said, his voice filled with approval. "These are perfect."
Kreacher bowed low, a look of satisfaction on his human face. "Kreacher is glad to please Master."
Hadrian moved to the first owl, a magnificent great horned bird with piercing golden eyes. He raised his wand, murmuring a complex incantation that sent a faint shimmer of magic through the air. The owl's eyes glowed briefly, and it let out a soft hoot, as if acknowledging the power now coursing through it.
One by one, Hadrian enchanted each owl, imbuing them with the ability to find their way across vast distances, to seek out those whose names were written on the letters they carried, and to return to Norhall with ease. It was a painstaking process, but by the time he was finished, the owls were more than mere birds—they were magical messengers, bound to his will.
He stepped back, surveying his work with satisfaction. The owls, now fully enchanted, looked back at him with an almost human intelligence in their eyes. They would serve him well, carrying his words and commands across the North and beyond, linking him to the lords and ladies of Westeros without the need for maesters or ravens.