Hadrian Peverell: High Lord of Skagos

Chapter 24: Norhold Reborn

Three moons had passed since the first stone of Norhold had been laid, and in that time, Hadrian vision of Skagos had begun to take shape in ways even he had not fully anticipated. What had once been a crude settlement of warriors, hunters, and wildlings was now transforming into a city with ambition, a city with purpose. The landscape was no longer barren, but thrumming with new life, a hub of activity that breathed with a sense of quiet grandeur.

Norhold, as it was now called, was becoming more than just the largest and only city on Skagos—it was a symbol of Hadrian's power, his vision, and his ability to command the land and the people as if molded from his own imagination. But despite the rapid growth, the city was far from finished, and with each passing day, it was clear to Hadrian that there were changes still to be made.

The population had surged. Though Norhold was initially designed to house the growing numbers of Skagosi people, it quickly became apparent that the residential district would not be enough. The influx of people—warriors, farmers, families—who had heard the call of a new era, swelled the city beyond Hadrian's initial expectations. His plans, grand as they had been, had underestimated the enthusiasm of his people. There were too many families crammed into shared houses, too many hands laboring in tight quarters.

Hadrian walked the streets daily, his black cloak billowing around him like a shadow as he studied the city's growth. It was not enough. It would never be enough, not if Skagos was to rise into something greater. He saw the cracks forming—the stretched resources, the overcrowded homes, the weariness of too many people in too small a space. There had to be more.

"Expand," he said one evening, standing at the edge of a cliff overlooking the city, his voice low and measured.

The residential district needed to stretch farther, to accommodate the thousands who would still come. He would raise more houses—dozens, hundreds—until every man, woman, and child had a place to live that didn't feel like the cramped cabins of the past. Each new home would be built with purpose. They would be sturdy, with thick walls of stone that could stand against the fierce winter storms of the North. But more than that, they would be built for families, with room for children to grow and for life to flourish.

He had learned from the past few moons that the Skagosi were not simply warriors or raiders. They were families, and families needed homes. They needed safety, a future, and a place to call their own. The old ways of living in scattered villages, in hovels and crude shelters, would no longer be enough. Norhold would provide them with something more.

Hadrian raised his hand, his fingers twisting slightly in the air, and the ground beneath his feet trembled. From the earth, like bones being unearthed from the depths of time, new houses began to rise. Stone stacked upon stone, roofs taking shape, doorways forming in the walls. His magic flowed through the city, shaping it as easily as a sculptor would shape clay.

In time, the residential district would be vast, capable of housing up to 200,000 people. But for now, only about 125,000 lived there, the rest was spread across the hundred or so villages scattered throughout the island, each housing no more than 500 people.

But it wasn't just the residential district that needed his attention.

The industrial district, had also begun to take shape. Blacksmiths, carpenters, and craftsmen now worked in small clusters, hammering out tools, weapons, and the materials needed to sustain the growing city. Smoke rose from the chimneys, billowing into the sky, but Hadrian had long ago cast spells to ensure that the air in the rest of the city remained clean and fresh. He wanted Norhold to be different from other cities—no filthy slums, no choking air. It would be a city of strength and beauty, where the people could breathe freely.

The entertainment district, still in its infancy, was also expanding. Taverns and inns had sprung up, places for the people to gather, to drink and share stories. But Hadrian had bigger plans for this district. He envisioned theaters where plays could be performed, arenas where competitions could be held—not the bloody, savage fights of old, but contests of skill, of strength, of wit. Norhold would be a city that celebrated its people, not just a place to live.

In the heart of the city, a city hall had been constructed, its towers rising above the rest of Norhold like a beacon. Inside, Hadrian had appointed a mayor—Grimar, one of the more civilized Skagosi who had proven himself to be loyal and capable of managing the city's daily affairs. Grimar was not a warrior, but a man of thought, a man who understood the needs of the people and the workings of governance. He reported directly to Hadrian, ensuring that the city's needs were met, from food supplies to public works.

Yet, despite the growing districts and the new houses rising from the ground, there was something about Norhold that made it different from any other city in the North. It was clean. The streets were wide and paved, lined with trees—some ordinary, some weirwoods. These trees, sacred to the old gods, grew throughout the city, their white trunks and red leaves a constant reminder of Skagos' connection to the ancient ways. The parks that dotted the city gave it a sense of calm, of balance between nature and civilization. It was a city where the people could gather in the open air, not just huddle in their homes to escape the cold.

One evening, Hadrian stood at the edge of the plateau where Norhall—his castle—stood. From this vantage point, high above the city, he could see everything. The castle itself was a marvel of stone and magic, perched on the side of the mountain like a guardian watching over the land. It was isolated from the city, yet connected to it, a symbol of his power and authority.

Norhall was not a grand castle like Winterfell, but it was imposing in its own right. The walls were thick, the towers tall, and the great hall large enough to host hundreds of men. The castle was not merely a place of residence—it was Hadrian's seat of power, his command center from which he would continue to shape the future of Skagos.

The city sprawled out beneath him, a patchwork of stone and greenery, smoke and silence. The districts were now more defined: the residential areas filled with new homes, the industrial sector alive with the sounds of progress, and the entertainment district bustling with laughter and life. The roads, wide and paved, wound their way through the city, connecting each district to the next with ease. From above, it almost looked like a grand design, a network of veins pulsing with life.

The people were beginning to understand what he had done, what he had created. Norhold wasn't just a city; it was a new way of life. They no longer had to fight every day to survive. They no longer had to huddle in caves or crude huts, hiding from the cold and the wild things that roamed the island. Here, in Norhold, they could thrive.

As he looked out over the city, a sense of satisfaction filled him. This was only the beginning. There was still much work to be done—more houses to raise, more roads to build, more power to consolidate. But Norhold was growing, changing, evolving. And with each passing day, it became more of what Hadrian had envisioned: a city that would stand the test of time, a city that would rise above the wilds of Skagos and take its place among the great cities of Westeros.

But for now, Hadrian would be content with watching. Watching as his people thrived, as his city grew, as his power solidified. And he would wait. Wait for the moment when Norhold would no longer be just a city on the edge of the world, but a force to be reckoned with.