Nerd In the North: Season 3, Ep 11 Outline (Patreon)

Episode 11: "The Gathering Storm"Chapter from multiple perspectives, ending with Greg’s.perspective 1: the villagers

training didn’t come naturally to most of them. the older men grumbled about their aching joints, the younger ones stumbled over their own feet, and the few women—though fierce—were often better at wielding a rake than a spear. still, they tried.

“keep your guard up!” hollered daeric, a grizzled farmer who’d taken on the role of instructor with meryn, the former guard captain dead. his face was a permanent scowl, but his voice carried authority. “you don’t hold it right, the first swing’ll be your last.”

a gangly teenager fumbled with his wooden sword, wincing as daeric smacked him on the back of the head. “focus, boy! a bolton’s not gonna wait for you to get your grip straight.”

on the edge of the training field, greg stood with his arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold.

“they’re... trying,” gwenna offered hesitantly, standing beside him. her newly gained powers flickered faintly in her fingers as she adjusted the enchanted fingerless gloves greg had made for her to better control her magic, if only marginally.

greg sighed, running a hand through his messy lengthening blond hair. “trying’s not gonna be enough if we don’t shape them up. but we’ll get there.”perspective 2: the wild roads

the roads were no longer safe.

that much was clear as jonys, a traveling peddler from riverrun, crouched behind his overturned cart, clutching a knife that felt useless in his trembling hands. Villagers had warned him of this, but he thought them fools, superstitious northmen useful for little more than their coin.Not now.the creature in front of him—a twisted amalgamation of fur, claws, and glowing red eyes—growled low, its saliva hissing as it hit the snow.

jonys had never prayed before, too focused on work to be pious, but as the creature lunged, he found himself whispering a desperate plea to the gods.

the creature stopped mid-leap, its head snapping toward the nearby weirwood tree. jonys felt a strange warmth settle over him, his fear ebbing as the creature backed away, snarling, before vanishing into the woods.

the peddler stumbled to his feet, staring at the tree in awe.

“thank you,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure to whom.a tinkling noise sounded back, like the laugh of a bell.

perspective 3: the dissenters

in the dim light of a barn, a handful of villagers gathered, their faces drawn and tense.

“he’s dangerous,” said a wiry man with darting eyes. “magic ain’t natural. not for men.”

“better than the boltons,” argued a woman with sharp features and a biting tone. “you’d rather bow to a man who’ll skin you alive?”

The wiry man scowled. “i’d rather bow to someone who won’t bring the lords down on us. you think they’ll let us get away with following him? they’ll burn this whole place to the ground.”

the group murmured their agreement, though some looked uncertain.

“we can’t just do nothing,” he pressed. “we’ve got to find a way to stop him before he gets us all killed.”

“and how do you plan to do that?” the woman shot back, her voice low but cutting. “because if you’re wrong, and he finds out…”

the silence that followed was deafening.

Greg

the makeshift camp was quiet now, the sounds of sparring and shouted instructions replaced by the crackle of campfires. greg sat on a low stone wall, staring out at the dark forest that bordered frostfall.

ash lay at his feet, his glowing eyes half-closed, while shiro dozed in his lap.

guts sat nearby, sharpening the dragonslayer with slow, deliberate strokes. the metallic scrape filled the silence, a steady rhythm that seemed to mirror greg’s thoughts.

“they’re not ready,” greg said finally, breaking the quiet.

“they don’t have to be,” guts replied without looking up. “they just have to want it bad enough. sometimes, that’s all it takes.”

greg snorted softly. “and what if it’s not? what if i’m leading them to their deaths?”

guts paused, his eyes lifting to meet greg’s. “then that’s on you,” he said bluntly. “but they chose to follow you. don’t forget that.”

greg nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to shiro, who chirped softly in his sleep.

“guess we’ll see,” greg muttered.

---

the sun was barely up when the makeshift army began to move. villagers-turned-soldiers marched with weapons slung over their shoulders, their expressions a mix of determination and dread.

greg walked at the front, ash and shiro flanking him, while guts brought up the rear, the dragonslayer gleaming faintly in the morning light.

as they passed the outskirts of frostfall, a few villagers who stayed behind whispered among themselves, their voices carrying just far enough for greg to hear.

“you think he can do it?”

“if anyone can, it’s him.”

greg kept his eyes forward, his jaw set. he had no doubts. not now.

Monster attacks in the wild and on roads are more common (Increase in magic has resulted in this) but also people in the area have noted that praying at weirwoods have resulted in them feeling better and healthier (fairies living in the trees casting weak healing magic)

A small secretive group of villagers begins to plot against Greg, fearing the power of this magic-wielding boy more than Bolton’s rule. Pure self-interest and fear of what the other lords would do to them is motivating this. Some express their doubts about greg openly, leading to tense conversations that make greg’s decision to trust them as his soldiers more deep and meaningful.

At the end, Greg and his makeshift army along with Guts set out for the Dreadfort.