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The Jedi of the North
Written by: Tellemicus Sundance
Co-Authored by: ffdrake
#02: Tales of Places Far, Far Away

295 AC
Chimaera, Wolfswood

In the future, Jon Snow would look back at this skirmish and grin forlornly at how foolishly idealistic and ignorant he'd been. This was the first true battle he'd ever seen or been part of. The cries of pain, rage, and loss from the men roaring over the crowd in a deafening din. The clamor and clang and impacts of thousands of armored bodies all trying to occupy the same space. The chaotic movements of the knights and soldiers as they jostled about, with the only stillness visible being from those who'd already dropped dead. The flashing of steel, the whizzing bangs of the red lightning bolts, all of it melding into a cacophony of death and terror.

And Jon had never been so terrified in all of his life. But he wasn't given the chance to think about his fear. He had only enough time to act on his training-induced instincts. Jon's wolfsblood was also positively roaring in his ears. His whole body was trembling with energy and impulse. He wasn't sure how he got his hands on a sword, and he didn't have time to ponder it either. He just acted and reacted as needed.

His smaller stature was both an advantage and disadvantage in this chaotic melee. The advantage was that he could more easily sneak up on and attack any of the white knights or enemy combatants since his small, slightly crouched body was somewhat out of most men's line of sight. And all of the chaos surrounding them only aided in Jon's movement to drift about. But his small size and weak body strength also meant that he had a harder time traversing the area, having to dodge around one Cerwyn armsman choking one of the tunic-clad soldiers with one arm while bashing another's head in with a warhammer, only to frantically duck under the death bolts of a white knight as he was targeting a Forrester man, and then dodging around a Tallhart man as that same knight started to shoot towards him. All in an effort to reach his own target, a particularly large white knight who wore an orange pauldron over his right shoulder and seemed to be commanding the men around him more efficiently.

"GH-444, concentrate fire on the right flank!" the obvious knight leader was yelling. "LT-7734, target the turret! AA-295 and DQ-311, protect LT-7734!"

With a cry, Jon sprung up from his partial hiding place behind a tree stump and brought his sword down in an arc. The leader had just enough time to turn towards Jon and bring his weapon up in an automatic defensive stance before the blade hit. The metal of the sword bit deeply and sheared partially through the black weapon the leader was holding. As Jon quickly withdrew his sword, he saw something sparking and glowing inside the damaged portion of the weapon. But he didn't get much more than a glimpse as the knight leader brought the point of his weapon down towards Jon, already squeezing the small trigger. But instead of the red bolt that Jon was already in the process of dodging around, a small burst of fire ignited from the damaged portion and blew apart the weapon in the man's hands. The leader went down with a pained scream, his hands reduced blackened and bleeding stumps. A strong spike of pity shot through Jon as he felt the man's pain and agony. That sense of pity he felt caused Jon to jump forward and swing his sword again as hard as he could, hacking the man's helmeted head off his body.

"Lieutenant!" a voice yelled from the group, having witnessed their leader's death. "Argh! Damn you, you little brat!"

Unfortunately for Jon, he was still recovering from the recoil of his swing, falling over in a heap on the ground. How did his father make cutting off men's heads look so easy?! But he didn't have time to dwell on that thought. His wolfsblood screamed out a warning to him, causing him to roll to the side. This roll of his caused him to accidentally slam into the back of the knees of a tunic-clad soldier, making him loose his balance and topple backwards over Jon. In doing so, he ended up taking the three shots meant for Jon. Before the knight who fired at him could adjust his aim, an arrow suddenly buried itself into his face, smashing through darkened glass. He fell to the ground instantly dead.

"Haha!" the annoyingly familiar voice of Theon called out. "You're welcome, bastard!"

Scowling as he pushed himself out from under the dead man, Jon shot back to his feet and drew up his sword. As he was looking around for another enemy to kill, a loud shrieking cry suddenly pierced through the din of combat. On impulse, Jon turned in search of whatever was causing the horrid noise. It didn't take long to figure out what had essentially happened. One of the white knights from the group of the leader he'd killed had seemingly launched some type of strange spear. A blaze of powerful flames were propelling the thick spear upwards, heading unerringly towards the strange tower that was raining death magic down on the knights.

As he watched the spear closing in on it, Jon felt a powerful pulse of something echo through his wolfsblood. Just a split moment before the spear hit the tower, an orange figure leapt free of it. Though the powerful explosion kicked up by the spear was impressive, Jon's attention was locked on the man who'd seemingly leapt to his doom. That tower was suspended well over twenty meters in the air, well high enough for any man to die upon impact with the ground below. But Jon felt like he could almost feel the man's emotions and there wasn't a touch of fear in among them at all, only annoyance and a slight amount of pain.

The man grabbed something from his belt with one hand while reaching out towards the ground as he neared it with the other. Jon felt more than saw the pulse of some kind of force emitting from the man's outstretched hand. Impossibly, whatever that force was, his fall towards the ground slowed from what had been a drop to near-certain death to just that of a minor tumble out of a low-hanging tree branch. As this pulse of force was saving his life, a blade of what looked to be blue fire sprung to life in his other hand.

"Jedi!" one of the knights yelled in fear and anger. "IT'S THE JEDI!"

"Fire! Fire!" another yelled in response.

The 'Jedi' person landed in amongst a gaggle of the white knights. His fire weapon was weaving so fast that it was little more than a blur of blue light among the knights before he'd even fully come to a stop. Jon and the nearby northerners could only stare in shocked awe as the five knights all crumbled to the ground with cries of extreme agony, portions of their armor and bodies glowing red-hot as pieces of both flew off at random angles. Before the knight could do anything else, six more knights and soldiers brought up their lightning weapons and started shooting. The young man remained standing under the direct barrage as he swung and spun his light blade around. Impossibly, when the numerous red bolts of death struck the magic sword, they bounced off and away, repelled somehow. Even more impressively, in Jon's humble opinion, was how each of the different shots were sent back to the original shooters, whether striking them full on or just knocking the dangerous weapons from their hands.

Once the initial volley of attacks had been repelled, the young man took an impossible leap forward. It must've been well over ten meters in distance! He came down with a decisive slash, cutting another pauldron-wearing white knight into two halves from his left shoulder to his right hip. Needless to say, the man died screaming. But just as his fellow knights were turning their weapons upon him, the new fighter brought up his arms up in a sweeping gesture as a powerful wave of wind and energy erupted from him, knocking all of them off their feet.

Standing upright as he held his fire blade aloft, the young man yelled out, "Fight! Fight back! You've almost won! FIGHT BACK!"

There was something powerful in his voice. Something reassuring, compelling, and strong. Whatever it was, Jon's fighting spirit was immediately reenergized as he turned and swung his sword at the nearest enemy soldier to him. And he wasn't the only one as the entire surrounding group of northerners around them also found their second wind. The newcomer also put words to action as he immediately rushed forward to engage an especially large group of soldiers, his fire sword once again reflecting and deflecting their incoming bolts before he was lost in the melee.

After cutting down three more men, Jon found himself becoming both surprised and relieved. The fighting spirits of the knights and soldiers was rapidly dwindling with the arrival of the 'Jedi' who was quickly cutting down an impressive amount of them. Not that Jon could really blame them as he glimpsed the man blow away at least ten of them with a powerful blast of what seemed to be wind energy. But the thing that really killed their will to fight was the unexpected arrival of House Glover and their cavalry, which proved to be the decisive final factor to securing the North's victory.

Once the fighting had finally stopped, Jon found himself kneeling down in the cold, muddy earth, leaning heavily upon his sword as he heaved for breath. Only now did he realize just how exhausted and scared he truly was. He couldn't stop himself from thinking back on the fight, seeing all of the possible ways it could've gone wrong, how he could've died. Glancing to the side, he gazed forlornly down at the body of a Whitehill knight, who had three charred and blackened holes punched through the chest of his mail and gambesome armor. 'I'm sorry,' he couldn't help thinking towards the fallen man morosely.

"You okay there, Snow?" Jory's voice above him asked as the man stepped up to him.

"A-Aye," Jon answered, looking up at the man's blood and mud stained figure.

"Come," Jory said after nodding in acknowledgement. "Your lord father is looking for you."

Quickly using the tunic of the last soldier he'd killed to wipe the blood and mud off the blade of his sword, Jon sheathed it and climbed back to his feet, following after Jory.

Hangar bay, Chimaera

Lord Eddard Stark was no stranger to public speaking. It came with the duty of being Warden of the North. Plus, he'd also gained a bit of experience rallying his troops during Robert's Rebellion. But despite that experience, public speaking had never been Eddard's strength. He was nicknamed the 'Quiet Wolf' for a reason. And he was now about to put himself out in front of an even larger crowd than usual. By a rough estimate, Eddard could see that he was about to literally lay down the law for upwards of 3,000 men.

But as much as this coming speech was quietly unsettling him, it wasn't what was really starting to unnerve him. No, it was the strange location he was standing upon as well as the peculiar device that Ser Ezra was holding out to him invitingly. The two of them were standing just inside the lip of the massive cavern of the superstructure, below them was the mass of surrendered Imperial soldiers and knights. It was a real chore for the northerners to fully disarm every man of their weapons, gadgets, and armor, simply because of how much they outnumbered them by. It was the work of easily three whole hours for the Imperials to be fully stripped down to just the bare essential clothing of their uniforms. This process really seemed to have bothered the Imperials, most particularly the white knights. Ser Ezra had confided in him quietly that it was standard procedure in the Empire for the 'stormtroopers' to never take off their armor unless they were off-duty and in a secure Imperial location. But now that they had finally finished with that long process, they were awaiting their captor's judgment of their fates.

Reaching out and tentatively taking the strange hilt-shaped device, Eddard looked it over carefully and with no small amount of bewilderment. Looking up at the young knight, he couldn't help voicing his concerns and uncertainty once again. "Are you absolutely certain that they will be able to hear me if I…speak into this thing?" It just didn't make any sense to him. How could such a tiny thing possibly make it so that everyone present would be able to hear him?

"Trust me, Lord Stark," Ser Ezra said with a small smile and a look of understanding on his face. "I know it may seem weird, but it really can. And I would explain it to you, but that would take too long. If you're still interested, I can tell you later. Just remember to hold down the buttons that I showed you. The ship will do the rest. Okay?"

Hesitantly, Eddard nodded as he looked back at the device. After a moment, he pressed and held the buttons the young knight had shown him. There was no visible or audible reaction, and that honestly worried him for a moment. So, to ease his worries that the boy wasn't trying to make a fool of him, he reached up and softly tapped the mesh portion over the top of the device. He was trying to evoke some kind of reaction to prove the young man's word. The split second that he started tapping the top, a loud and strange muffled noise echoed out of the cavern around him, surprising him. Looking around for the source of the noise, he accidently stopped his tapping, and the muffled noise stopped too. After a moment, he tapped the mesh again and the noise echoed again.

Looking over at Ser Ezra, he found the young man shooting him a small but knowing grin. "See? I told you the ship would handle the rest."

Despite himself, Eddard nodded in response. 'Well, at least my voice won't be hoarse afterwards.' Turning back to face the captured soldiers, he quickly fixed his face into a stern and solemn expression. Still feeling awkward, he held the device up close to his mouth as he began to speak.

"Soldiers of the Empire," his voice echoed out of the surrounding superstructure like thunder, thousands of times louder than anything he could've possibly managed on his own. Though the Imperials didn't so much as flinch, he saw more than a few of his own bannermen jump in surprise, gawking up at him as if he'd performed some kind of great magical feat. He carefully forced himself to ignore those looks from his bannermen as he continued, "You have committed several grave crimes upon this land on which you now stand. Poaching within the King's forest. Invasion of our sovereign nation. Inciting conflict by attacking and killing several dozen of my bannermen. And, most grievous of all, the intention to enslave the peoples to your Empire."

"By law of the King, the punishment for poaching is that every man responsible for it will be losing one of their hands or being sent to sea as a deckhand chained aboard a vessel for five years." Eddard noticed more than a few of the soldiers start nervously glancing about and shifting restlessly. It was as if the act of losing one's hand was a foreign concept to them. Indeed, he even noticed that Ser Ezra seemed somewhat surprised and unsettled by that revelation, just from the small glance the young man shot towards him. But Eddard continued on relentlessly. "The act of invasion and the following loss of life is an act of war. As well as for the unforgivable sin of slavery, the punishments for these crimes is execution."

He paused to really let that thought sink in for these men. After several moments of watching them squirm fretfully, Eddard continued, "However, we are not unmerciful people. We realize that many of you were simply following orders from your lords above you. That is why you are getting a second option to choose from."

There was an almost palpable wave of tensed relief passing through the crowd. Quite a few of them seemed to have their hopes raised with the thought that they might get a pardon for their wrongdoings. But just as many seemed to realize that the second option would be no less harsh. Nonetheless, Eddard carried on. "To understand this second option, I will explain to you a small amount of our history. Thousands of years ago, our people battled against a fierce enemy who nearly exterminated all man on this land. After we'd won the war and pushed our enemy into the far northern lands, we erected a mighty wall of ice to guard the lands south of it against the possible return of that enemy. Guarding this wall is the Order of the Night's Watch, a sworn brotherhood. They take oaths of lifelong servitude, vowing to take no lands, father no children, win no glory, and wear no crowns. Their only duty is to guard the realms of man. By taking this vow, they are forgiven of any wrongdoing they might have committed in life. However, if they break this vow and flee from their post on the Wall, they will be hunted down and killed without hesitation or mercy. Whether by their former brothers in the Watch or by us northerners."

A thick and tense silence covered the crowd as they stared up at Eddard. He matched their solemnity with his own. "Those are your only choices now: execution or the Wall. We will give you all a few moments to consider them."

Lowering the device stiffly, Eddard turned towards Ser Ezra. Below them, the crowd of captives started quietly talking among themselves, debating their choices. As much as he wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, his job was still only half finished. Now he needed to confront the captured Imperial women about what their options were. 'And doesn't that boggle the mind? This 'Empire' actually allows women to serve in its army and navy forces. Not many, thankfully, but it still allows them.' As a man of the North, Eddard held less of a patriarchal view on the role women played in society than most other Lords he knew down south. For this Empire to allow women to serve like that must mean that it held a far more equalitarian view towards men and women than six of the Seven Kingdoms did. And he couldn't help but shake his head slightly in rueful amusement as a random thought crossed his mind, 'Arya would probably love that about this empire.'

Shaking those thoughts from his mind, Lord Eddard followed Ser Ezra up the steps of a small podium nearby. As he took his spot in the center, the Warden of the North gazed down at the much smaller group of captured women soldiers. Like their male counterparts outside and below, these women had also been stripped of their armor, weapons, and gadgets. They had been quickly separated into this secondary group and brought up inside this massive 'hangar' (as Ser Ezra called it) for a very good reason.

Unlike with just a few moments ago, Eddard didn't feel the need to use the voice amplifying device. There were just less than fifty surviving women, so his voice alone could carry in this metal cavern well enough to be heard by all. "Women of the Empire, you too stand accused of numerous crimes against the North and Westeros as a whole. But unlike your male counterparts outside, you will be given some very different choices. The Wall and the Night's Watch are exclusive to men. Therefore, these shall be your choices of punishment."

"The first being incarceration at Quiet Isle down in the south," Eddard stated, his face and voice firmly neutral. "There, you will be inducted into the Silent Sisters, a religious sect of the Faith of the Seven. The Silent Sisters take vows of chastity and silence, living a life of piety and prayer while attending to their duties for the dead." Just from a cursory glance, Lord Eddard could already guess that the number of volunteers for this service would be few to none. "It is considered sacrilege to abandon this holy calling once you've been inducted into it. As such, any attempt at escape will be met with harsh punishments, up to and including execution."

"Your second option is to be held as wards across the North," he continued, seeing all of them perk up slightly in interest. "You will be separated and sent to different castles, keeps, holdfasts, or villages. There, so long as you obey the lord's laws, you will be allowed to make a life for yourself. However, should you try to leave without the approval of the local lord or head of house in the area, you will be hunted down and executed on the spot."

"And your third option is exile," he finished grimly. "Exile from the North and all of Westeros. You will be taken to White Harbor and loaded upon a ship bound for one of the Free Cities across the Narrow Sea. Once there, your fates are in your own hands. But be warned; despite being named the 'Free Cities', most of them practice slavery. And they'd not hesitate to make all of you into bed slaves or prostitutes if you were caught." Despite his rather blunt and grim warning, Eddard could see that some of them seemed to be looking a bit interested at the concept of exiling themselves for whatever reason.

"You will have until we depart to make your choices," he concluded.

Once he descended from the podium, only then did he finally let out the sigh of relief. "I hate making speeches."

"But you sure do a good job of grabbing a crowd's attention, ser," Ser Ezra said, grinning goodnaturedly at him.

"I'm not a knight," Lord Eddard stated a bit more harshly than he'd intended. "Don't call me 'ser'."

"Ah, sorry, sorry!" the young man hurriedly replied, holding his hands up in a somewhat comical surrendering fashion. "That's – eh, I guess that's just a difference between our cultures? Where I come from, we always call someone who has a superior rank or higher social status as 'ser' as form of respect. Uh…What should I call you then?"

"Lord Stark will suffice," he answered, his brow quirking slightly at the strange custom of this young knight's people. And because he was looking, he noticed the knight wince ever so slightly. "Is that a problem?"

"No, nonono!" Ser Ezra answered, clearly still feeling a little awkward around Lord Eddard for some reason as he tried to look everywhere but at his searching expression. "I guess that's another difference between us? The only people I've ever had to call 'lord' before were…very bad people." Finally marshalling his courage, the young knight met his gaze as he asked, "Is calling people 'my lord' a common practice here?"

"Only for the actual lords of the land," Eddard said, frowning slightly. While he clearly didn't know the full story behind why Ser Ezra's culture developed like that, there was a certain amount of symbolic symmetry that was starting to rub him the wrong way. The idea of the 'lords' of his lands all being 'very bad' people. It didn't sit well with Eddard.

"Milord," a familiar voice called over from the ramp. Turning, Lord Stark spotted Jory, Robb, and Jon approaching them. As they drew closer, Jory gave a quick salute as he continued speaking, "It's started snowing again. Lightly, but it's snow. I think our departure's going to be delayed a few more days."

"That's unfortunate," Eddard stated, already trying to think of how he and his men would be able to feed, house, and monitor all of these prisoners until they could carry out justice.

"Lord Stark?" Ser Ezra spoke up. "If you need space, you and your men are welcome to campout in here. There's literally thousands of rooms available, including a very large barracks."

"How large are we talking about here?"

"I'd say that at maximum capacity, this ship could easily house upwards of 40,000 men and women," Ezra stated casually, grinning slightly at the gawking northerners' expressions. "Including all of the facilities needed to keep them fed, cleaned, and entertained for long voyages. And the interior layout is pretty simple, so you and your men probably won't get lost unless you go exploring too deeply."

After several moments, Lord Eddard nodded and turned to Jory. "Go inform the men that we'll be spending the night and possibly several days inside here. Also, inform the Lords that I require their presences here as soon as possible. They will accompany us on a tour of this…vessel."

"At once, milord!" Jory saluted again before rushing off to fulfill his new orders.

Turning back to Ezra, Eddard and Jon both turned expectant looks upon him. "You will give us a quick tour of this…ship when the Lords arrive?"

"Of course, Lord Stark!" Ser Ezra chirped up cheerfully.

Imperial Conference Room, Chimaera

"What kind of magic is this?!" Robb couldn't help asking breathlessly.

He wasn't the only one who was feeling a tad bit overwhelmed. The interior of the superstructure was even larger than he'd first expected. Granted, the innumerable rooms and hallways it held were all of near identical size and shape. But the sheer length of those hallways just boggled the mind. The architecture of the interior was…for lack of a better term, sterile. The drab whites, metallic silver and grays, and highly polished blacks were everywhere, with only occasional splashes of other colors here and there. In the back of his mind, Robb could understand the likely reason for all the white was used, since a little bit of white could really light up an area.

But the thing that was really getting to him was the strange objects that were glowing an unnaturally bright white light from the hallways' ceilings. Well, at least those that weren't shattered and broken. Those objects lit up the interior even more brightly than the sun couldn't on a clear, cloudless day despite there being not a single window in sight! Then there were the doorways that had no visible handles yet opened with the touch of button on the wall. There was the soft brush of warm air coursing through narrow holes along the ceiling of the hallways despite the descending chill outside and no fireplaces or chimneys around. And there was the flying sparks, smell of charred metal and strange chemicals, the stink of blood and death, the flickering of broken light and shattered glass from numerous desks and workstations. All of it just added up to form…he didn't know what, in his mind. Whatever it was, it was overwhelming in its scope and strangeness to his lack of understanding about anything around him.

"I know it may seem magical, but it really isn't," Ser Ezra said in a calm and strangely reassuring voice. He was seated in a rather stiff looking but surprisingly comfortable chair at one end of what Robb would've otherwise called a dining hall or throne room. The room was long and somewhat narrow with a large black-topped table in the center, upwards of a dozen chairs seated around it.

Despite how overwhelming everything around him was, Robb couldn't stop the slight and wondrous chuckle that escaped him when he'd first grasped one of those chairs and pulled it back to take a seat in. rather than it scraping across the perfectly smooth metallic floor, the chair slid out on small wheels that were attached to the legs. That, along with the chair actually turning and spinning in his grasp to face him, caused Robb to gawk in surprise. He'd never heard of such things in a simple chair before and almost immediately he wondered why no one had thought of such a thing before. He could already see the potential benefits of such simple ideas! And what was more surprising was that the black padding in the chairs were very comfortable.

"What is this place?" Lord Whitehill demanded as he and his son took seats around the table as well. "And how did you lot managed to build this fortress so quickly without us finding it sooner?"

"I'm interested in that myself," Lord Forrester said in a calm voice as he and his son took their own seats, well away from the Whitehills. "Nothing about this fortress feels natural."

"We'd all like to know what's going on," Lord Glover stated calmly from where he now sat, looking at the strange knight.

Robb took just a moment to look around the table, identifying each of the lords, most of their heirs, and even couple of their loyal bannerman seated around the table or standing near them. He and his father were seated at one end of the long table with Theon, Jon, Jory Cassel, and Hallis Mollen, standing behind them. Near them were Lords Helman Tallhart, Medger Cerwyn, and Galbart Glover. Seated next his father was Cley Cerwyn with Benfred Tallhart who stood restlessly behind Helman. Robett Glover stood like a silent sentinel behind his brother, hand resting upon his sheathed sword as he watched Ser Ezra. Then there were the Whitehills and Forresters. Thankfully, the two lords seemed to be trying to ignore the existence of the other. Sadly, their sons were shooting angry, challenging glares at one another from across the table. Those were all the high lords of note, but they weren't the only ones present. Though he didn't know them by name, Robb was able to easily identify the banners of Woods, Branch, Bole, and even Lake, probably the northernmost House present and who were sworn to the Umbers. All totaled, there were more than twenty lords and/or heirs present.

From where he was seated, Robb could see that Ser Ezra looked…uncertain. Raising a hand to awkward rub the back of his head, the young knight looked off to the side as he mumbled quietly to himself, "Yeah, where do I even begin? Man, Kanan never prepared me for something like this."

"Why don't we start simple?" Lord Eddard suggested, earning the room's attention. "What is this 'Galactic Empire' and why have they attacked us?"

If anything, Ser Ezra looked even more uncertain. But that wasn't the thing that caught Robb's interest. Somehow, he wasn't sure how, but he could…almost feel embarrassment swirling around the young knight like a heavy perfume. "That's…a bit of a tale to tell."

"We're not going anywhere until the snow stops," Lord Glover pointed out. "We've got the time."

"Hm, very well," Ezra said, letting out a heavy sigh of resignation. "But you'll likely never see things quite the same way again once we're done. Are you sure you want to know?"

"Tell us already, brat!" Lord Whitehill snapped, glaring sternly over at him.

"Fine, fine!" Ezra answered quickly, holding up his hand in a surrendering gesture. He looked down at the table and grabbed a small book-shape object that was resting nearby. Picking it up, he spent a few moments tapping it as he said, "This is long tale to tell, so I'm going to try to condense it down greatly. And it'd be easier for me to show you some of this stuff rather than tell you. So, despite what's going to happen, please try to remain calm. Remember, it won't hurt you in the slightest."

"What are y—GAH!?" Lord Whitehill started asking before he – and everyone else – suddenly recoiled in surprise and slight fear as a strange light appeared over the table.

But this light wasn't like the objects from the hallways. This light had a more 'solid' appearance to it as it took the shape of an extremely elderly man clad in majestic black robes. Standing to his side was what could've only been another knight, but one dressed in black and wearing a very fear-inducing helm. Just by a cursory glance, Robb could see that the robed old man had an aura of command about him, not unlike what most lords had. But his heavily wrinkled and scarred face made for disgusting and hateful visage.

"These two men you see before you are Emperor Palpatine, the old man," Ser Ezra said as he casually pointed towards the floating image. He continued to speak in that same low, calm voice. And the more he spoke, the more his calmness about the magical feat he was performing began to soothe the nervous lords around him. "And the black knight is his chief lieutenant, the supreme commander of the Empire's army and navy. His name is Darth Vader. Both of these men are extremely powerful Sith Lords. I suppose you guys would call them…sorcerers, wizards? Anyway, they are incredibly powerful and dangerous. And they rule the Empire with a cold, iron-grip."

He paused a moment to let those statements sink in. All of the northern lords now wore grim, solemn expressions as they stared at the images. In their minds ran the same general thought of having an evil sorcerer rule over them. Most of the Lords themselves had experienced the rule of a mad king and fought in the war against his son. So, naturally, they tried to envision what life would've been like had the Mad King also possessed powerful magics with an equally powerful and loyal dark knight at his side. The vision too horrifying for them to wish to pursue beyond just the initial thoughts of it.

"As you might've already guessed," Ser Ezra began again as he started tapping away at the object in his hand. "Not everyone enjoyed being ruled over by them. Some people began to fight back, such as me and my friends."

Then the image changed, and the gathered lords all recoiled slightly in surprise at what they saw. There was a group of six figures standing in fighting poses with various strange weapons in the hands. One of them was clearly a younger version of Ser Ezra, wielding a slightly different version of the sword he'd used earlier. There was a dark-haired man who wore a green shoulder pauldron and gauntlets, also wielding a blue sword. There was a young woman clad in light but very colorful armor who had two of the small red bolt weapons in her hands, though her face was covered in a strange helmet. But it was the last three figures that really drew the northerners' attentions. One was clearly female. It would've been impossible to mistake that feminine figure as anything else. But she had green skin and two thick tentacles in place of hair! The second figure was definitely the largest of the group in both height and muscle mass. It's face was like that of a snarling bulldog as it swung a large metal staff that had wicked golden lightning dancing along it. And the smallest figure was what Robb had initially thought was some kind of strangely shaped trash bin, but it had two large leg-like structures on its sides, a pair of knobby arms emerging from the sides of its head, and a 'face' that had three eyes but no mouth or nose.

"Wh-Wh-What are those things?!" Gryff Whitehill demanded loudly as his hands gripped tightly at his sword's hilt, voicing the question everyone was wondering.

"Demons!" his father hissed next to him, eyes narrowing in hatred at the three nonhumans before shooting over to glare threateningly at Ser Ezra. "So, we have a demon-worshiper among us!"

"Calm down," Ser Ezra said in a soft, soothing voice, waving his hand in a soft gesture. Somehow, that small gesture seemed to help carry extra weight on Ezra's words. Enough weight that it did manage to steady the nerves of the slightly panicking northerners. "This is my team, the Phoenix Cell of Lothal," Ser Ezra said. "That is—er, was…my teacher, Kanan Jarrus, also a Jedi Knight. The green lady is our ship captain, Hera Syndulla. With them are Sabine Wren, one of our best fighters and who is extremely skilled at making things explode. The big guy is Zeb. He's the muscle, obviously. And that grumpy bucket of rust is Chopper, he was good at fixing things when he wasn't complaining."

Once he was sure that no one would do anything rash, the young knight continued on, smiling slightly as he turned his attention to the image. "Hera is a creature called a Twi'lek. Her people hail from a land called Ryloth. Zeb is a Lasat from a place called Lira San. Don't worry, both of them are places way too far away to ever bother you guys. And despite what they look like, they are actually very nice people. They are no more demonic or evil than any of you guys are."

Despite the reassurances, Robb could literally feel the tension still hanging thick in the air, especially over Ludd and Gryff who were the only followers of the Faith of the Seven in the room.

"And how does any of this pertain to this Empire coming here?" Medger asked, looking pointedly at the young knight.

"I'm getting to that, just be patient," Ezra said, once again holding up a hand in a calming gesture but carrying nowhere near as much weight, before returning to tapping on his control device. After he did, the image changed once again.

This time it took the form of a battlefield of some kind. Unlike the earlier images, this one was actually moving and the lords could watch as the battle progressed. Robb peered closely into the image, trying to spot as many details as he could. One thing made extremely obvious from the start was that this battlefield was far different than any he'd ever heard of in his history lessons with Maester Luwin. One side of the battle seemed to be made up metallic, skeletal, almost buglike-shaped creatures. They were fighting upon a bridge of some kind high up in the air against an army of white armored knights, similar but different to the knights they fought against outside. Red and blue bolts of death were flying everywhere as explosions went over on both sides, killing man and creature alike.

"What you are seeing is one of the last battles of the Clone Wars fought about 20 years ago," Erza narrated as the lords watched. "This war was a turning point in the history of my people. You see, the Empire arose from the ashes of an old republic. Sadly, the Republic had grown fat and decadent, ruling for pleasure and wealth rather than to govern the people. Naturally, over time, people began to rebel and desired their freedom from such a corrupt system. They broke away from the Republic and formed their own government, the Confederacy. However, the Republic wouldn't let them go without a fight, which in turn caused this war you see here. Many, many people died during this conflict. But over time, the Republic had started to win more battles because they had something the other side didn't: the Jedi Knights."

Even as he spoke the words, a man with an unnaturally shaped head wearing strange clothing and wielding a blue sword appeared. With just his sword and no apparent armor, this 'Jedi Knight' began to deflect and reflect any bolt that came near him. He was shouting and pointing mutely at the white knights, commanding them. Under his leadership, as well as the use of some unknown magical powers from the Jedi, the white knights began to steadily gain more and more ground, crossing the bridge and pushing their enemies back further and further. Despite himself, Robb felt his blood starting to rise in excitement as he watched the battle unfold.

"However, what no one knew at that time was that it was all a ruse, a lie," Ser Ezra said, bitterness clear in tone. "For you see, it was all a plot by the then-Chancellor of the Republic—er, the king, I guess. The Chancellor was a secret a magic user, an evil sorcerer of the vilest magics. He was a Sith Lord, part of an ancient Order of sorcerers who were also the sworn enemies of the Jedi Knights. As such, he wanted only two things in life: power and the deaths of all the Jedi. He was so conniving that he was able to manipulate both sides of the war to his own benefit. He got the Confederacy to start the war. Then, when the time was right, he issued a secret directive to the Republic's troopers everywhere. This directive was Order 66, which labeled all of the Jedi everywhere as traitors to the Republic and called for their instant execution, with no chance of a trial."

Even as he said that, Robb watched as that very order was carried out. The white knights came to an abrupt halt behind their charging commander and leveled their weapons upon him. The Jedi clearly sensed the change in his troops, turning around and staring at them in confusion and mounting surprise. Then they opened fire on him remorselessly. The Jedi was caught between the two warring sides, both of which were firing their bolts upon him at the same time. He fell to the ground dead after just a couple of them penetrated his guard, with several more hitting his corpse afterwards to no doubt ensure he had died.

"Following this betrayal," Ser Ezra continued grimly as the image changed from the battlefield to what was clearly the coronation of the now-Emperor. He stood in the midst of some kind of amphitheater, surrounded by many thousands of people and creatures, arms raised in victorious celebration as his wrinkled face smiled in elation. "The Emperor sent his new enforcer, Darth Vader, to bring a swift end to the war by killing all of the Confederacy leaders. Without their leadership, the Confederacy swiftly was overwhelmed and absorbed into the new Galactic Empire. That had been Palpatine's plan all along. To use the war as a cover while he amassed more and more political power unto himself until he could name himself Emperor and have no challengers to his rule."

Then the image changed to something very different. The scenery was so drastically different than anything Robb could've imagined. He saw a large city sprawled across the ground with many buildings, but none were as imposing or massive as the metal dome that dominated the center of the cityscape. There was smoke and fire everywhere as massive green bolts of death rained down upon the city from the three enormous wedge-shaped vessels that were floating above the ground menacingly. "What you are seeing here is the last few moments of a battle I'd fought in a little while ago. This was the final, decisive battle that my friends and I fought against the Empire to free my homeland of Imperial occupation. I don't know how the battle ended…for sure, but I am confident that my friends won."

As he watched, a swarm of…flying krakens came swooping out of the skies, led by a blocky looking vessel. The smaller of the flying krakens attacked a bunch of screaming things that came flooding out from the larger vessels' underbellies. As that happened, the much larger krakens rammed headfirst into two of the wedge vessels, smashing and destroying them in fiery explosions. When that happened, Robb heard a joyous laugh escape from Theon behind him. He didn't need to look to know that the Greyjoy heir was grinning widely as he watched something that must've been akin to a wetdream to any Ironborn.

However, as the krakens approached the third and final vessel, rather than ram it, some of them began to grab onto it. They tightened their tentacles upon its hull so powerfully that some areas of the vessel buckled and broke apart. Then, strangely, the tentacles of the many krakens started to glow as they spread and opened widely. With a massive lunge forward at bursts of speed too unimaginable for any man to comprehend, the krakens seemingly vanished into thin air. Even the ones surrounding and clinging to the last vessel lunged forward, dragging their massive prize along with them into the void.

After that, the image abruptly cut out and vanished. The room was silent as every man and boy present tried to comprehend what they'd just seen. After several moments, Lord Glover turned back to Ser Ezra. "I assume that you and those stormtroopers were aboard that last vessel?"

"Yes," Ser Ezra nodded.

"So, this…ship can really fly?!" Robb asked, both excited and scared of the answer he'd receive.

"No, not anymore," Ser Ezra answered, shaking his head. "See, when the purgil dragged us away—eh, those flying creatures, I mean. When they pulled us away from Lothal, they were essentially pulling us out into unexplored space. As you probably know, going anywhere that's unexplored can be pretty dangerous. And that's what happened to this ship. They had accidentally dragged us into a very large and deadly lightning storm. The storm heavily damaged a lot of the critical parts of the ship, most importantly of all being the parts that keep it aloft. So, we ended just drifting about, floating uncontrollably for several long days before we ended up crashing here a few weeks ago. And while some parts of the ship still have power, like the doors, lights, a few of the turbolaser cannons, and even stuff like the hologram projector—" He gestured vaguely towards the table center as he said that. "This ship will never fly again. So, the Imperials and I are all marooned here until or if someone manages to find us."

Looking about the room, Ser Ezra sent them a small grin as he saw their slightly gawking expressions. "If anyone's got any questions, I'd be happy to answer them later. But first, would you guys mind if we took a break? I don't know about you, but I'm starving!"

Several of the men around the table chuckled quietly at that statement, including Eddard. The Warden of the North nodded as he climbed to his feet. "Aye, I agree. A lunch break would be welcome, and it'll give us time to think about all you've told us, Ser Ezra."

"You don't need to call me 'Ser Ezra'," the young knight said quietly, flushing slightly. "I'm not technically a knight yet. And I still have a lot to learn about the Force."

"Nonetheless," Medger said, also standing up, as did more of the lords. "I agree with Lord Stark. And we should also check up on how well our men are…coping with their new quarters, as well as check on the prisoners."

"Aye," numerous others agreed.

Robb joined the others as they headed for the door, already quietly muttering amongst themselves of everything they'd just seen and heard.

"Flying krakens," Theon breathed out softly, a starry-eyed expression of wonder and yearning on his face as he remembered those creatures. "I never thought such things were possible before. And they were so…beautiful!"

Robb couldn't stop the slight chuckles that escaped him as he listened to his friend. Beside him, Jon snorted in exasperation of the Ironborn. Both of them knew that the Greyjoy boy was likely going to be talking about those things for days, if not weeks, to come. He decided to bring up the most poignant part that he remembered. "Did you see that battle on the bridge? Can you imagine having to have fought there? Must've been terrifying. That knight and those troopers must've been truly brave and exceptional warriors."

Needless to say, there were a lot of similar conversations passing between the northerners as they departed the room.

Hangar bay, Chimaera
Later that afternoon

"So, these weapons can truly be used by anyone?" a Glover bannerman asked. Unlike his fellows, he was rather excited as his gaze bounced between the 'blaster rifle' in his hands and the strange young knight who stood before them.

"Yes, as long as you know what you're doing," Ezra said, nodding his head with a slight smile on his face as he looked about the large that stood around him. In his hands was another rifle as he demonstrated the proper holding and firing stances of the weapon to the men who'd been selected to be the guards of the prisoners. "But remember, these weapons don't have infinite power. Once you use up the power clip—" Pressing a small button on the stock, he ejected a small portion of metal and held it out for all to see before continuing, "—then the rifle is basically dead. If you want to use it again, you have to replace the clip with a fresh one."

The 50 or so men who were gathered around him for this little lesson all began carefully looking over their own weapons, quickly finding the same button that Ezra had revealed. "Sadly, because you guys don't have the proper knowledge or tools to make any more, once these clips run out, that's it. You won't be able to use them again for…maybe centuries, or until you can learn the mechanics and processes of building these for yourselves. So, remember to always make every shot count."

"Aye!" the crowd called, understanding what he was saying.

Seeing that they understood, Ezra nodded. "Good, now back to your posts. And be sure tell the others everything I just did you."

The crowd quickly dispersed, heading back to their other companions. As they did, Ezra looked down into the hangar bay from the walkway he stood on overhead. Most of the captured Imperials had been brought inside and essentially barricaded into one portion of the bay by crudely made barriers. If he were being honest, Ezra did feel a bit reserved in the northerners' treatment of their captures. They were cold, aggressive, and even somewhat cruel. But given the era in which their society was presently in, as well as the rather harsh conditions of their homeland, he could understand why and how they were the way they were. Hard living made for hard men, as he knew all too well himself.

'I wonder just how many of the Imperials haven't realized just what they are in store for,' Ezra thought to himself. 'Some of them probably think that Lord Stark was bluffing when he said that they'd execute them for their actions. That their status as Imperial soldiers will somehow protect them from these northerners' swords.' It was a grim thought, so he didn't dwell on it.

"Ser Ezra?" a young voice asked from nearby. Turning, he found himself face to face with a group of kids who were all younger than himself. The one who'd spoken was the redhead of the group, Lord Stark's son if he remembered right.

"You don't need to call me 'Ser,' kids," Ezra reminded the kids with a small grin. "I'm not from your land. And I'm pretty sure I don't meet the your standards of what a knight is."

The boys glanced among themselves for a moment. Ezra could see their obvious hesitation easily, as well as their nearly overwhelming curiosity about himself, the Imperials, the crashed Destroyer they were in, and just everything in general. So, that being the case, he waited patiently for one of them to muster themselves and ask the first question. After all, he had promised that he would answer and it's not like he had anything better to do until later.

"Back in the battle," a quiet voice from the back of the group spoke up. Everyone turned to look at the speaker, allowing Ezra to see it was someone who he was able to somewhat recognize as the dark-haired boy who had followed with Lord Stark. The boy faltered for a moment, apparently surprised and slightly unsettled at being the center of attention, but quickly refocused himself back on Ezra. "I saw you do things that…seem impossible, looking back on it."

"Oh yeah?" Lord Stark's son said, looking inquisitively at the dark-haired one. "Like what? I didn't get to see much at all until the end of it."

"When he jumped from the tower he was controlling, he stretched out his hand and slowed his fall," the boy answered, glancing at each of others, silently asking if they'd seen the same feat and earning a few nods. Then he looked back straight at Ezra. "And then you were able to use that blue sword to shield against the death bolts the soldiers were shooting. You even were able to jump very far, at least ten meters at one point! How could you be able to do things like that?"

"What are you talking about, Snow?" one of the elder boys among the group, who must've been at least in his latter teen years, demanded in a snide tone. There was the image of a golden squid proudly emblazoned on his chest, a simple bow visible over his shoulder, and an arrogant gleam to his eye as he sneered down at the young kid. "Those things flew as fast as arrows! No way could anyone have been able to, what, deflect them with a sword? That's just crazy talk, bastard!"

"No, he's actually right," Ezra inserted quickly, seeing and sensing the 'Snow' kid's temper starting to spike. "I did deflect those blaster bolts with my lightsaber. As for how I did it, I used the Force to sense where they were heading and to know when to move my lightsaber to protect myself."

As the elder kid gave him a strange look of surprise, confusion, and sneering disbelief, the others just looked at him questioningly.

"The Force?" the unquestioned eldest of the group asked. He was easily around Ezra's age with the beginnings of a full beard and mustache starting to grow in, dressed in good quality armor with a prominent white tree and sword sigil on his breast plate. "That's the second time I've heard you mention that. What is it?"

Despite himself, Ezra couldn't stop the slight chuckle that escape him at that question. He remembered all-too-well himself asking Kanan that very same question. "The Force is everywhere. It surrounds us, binds us, and holds the galaxy together." He wasn't too surprised to see the lack of comprehension on their numerous faces.

"Okay, but what is the Force?" Lord Stark's son asked.

"Well, to put it very simply, I guess you could say that the Force is like magic," Ezra answered easily. "It's a very special invisible energy that surrounds and empowers us. The Force is created by life and living creatures. Just by being alive, you are connected to the Force and contribute to its power." Bringing his hand up to rub his chin thoughtfully, he began muttering to himself, "Hm, how best to describe it…? Oh!" He smacked his fist in his palm as an idea hit him. "You guys are familiar with castles, right?"

"Yes," more than one of them rolled their eyes at the seemingly pointless question, but Ezra just continued grinning as he went on.

"Okay, think of it this way," he said. "Everyone in the world is a stone in the wall. And the Force is like the mortar that is layered between the stones, holding them together, giving them strength and form. Understand?" Now, that comparison drew a lot more positive feedback!

"That sounds…nice and all," the loudmouth teen interrupted, looking both unsettled and curious. "But how does that relate to what the bastard said?"

"I was getting to that," Ezra said, giving the young man a somewhat stern, reproving stare, which caused the boy to awkwardly drop his chin slightly in submission. "To those who can feel and use the Force, it can give us certain abilities, like moving objects with our mind, visions of the past or future, and being able to fight harder, faster, and longer than a normal man could."

"Sooo, what you're saying is…" the young man said with a growing cocky grin on his face. "That without this fancy sword or magic helping you, you couldn't have won against those 'stormtroopers' down there? Ha! Some knight you are! I bet I could even beat you if you didn't have those powers of yours."

Ezra couldn't help cocking an eyebrow at this kid's boastfulness. He didn't even need the Force to know that the young man was trying to intimidate or exert some kind of dominance over him for whatever reason. 'Jeez, are all pre-space travel cultures this barbaric, or just this world? Or just this kid?'

"Would you like to test that theory?" Ezra challenged, his face neutral and cool as he stared at the kid.

The cocky kid blinked, obviously not expecting Ezra to take him up on his challenge. "What?"

Rolling his shoulders, Ezra fixed him with a smirk. "I asked if you wanted to put that theory to the test?" Stepping forward, Ezra placed himself right in front of the cocky kid. "You said you think you can beat me if I didn't have the Force to aid me. Then prove it. A spar, you and I, here and now. And just to fair, I won't use the Force at all during the fight."

The boy looked over to his companions, obviously looking for help but finding none. Realizing he'd backed himself into a corner, the cocky boy quickly recollected himself and turned back to him, his cocky grin reappearing on his face. "Alright, you're on! But let's make it more interesting… I get to name the type of contest and, if I win, I get your fancy sword."

Ezra could sense something in the cocky boy. He was supremely confident about this. He wasn't afraid to lose simply because he didn't think he could. And while he was confident that he could beat the cocky boy in just about any contest, he couldn't put his lightsaber on the line. It was far too valuable to risk losing. Especially as he wasn't sure just when or even how he would be able to get home. He could almost hear Kanan's voice in his head, 'A Jedi cannot let their pride get in their way.'

"You can name the competition, but I cannot put my lightsaber on the line," Ezra countered, which made the cocky boy smile more.

"Ha! So, you admit that without your fancy powers, you'd lose!"

"Not at all," Ezra shot back, feeling more than slightly annoyed at the cocky boy's attitude. "But a lightsaber is a Jedi's life. And not only that, it is one of the last remaining mementos I have of my former Master."

"Master?" Lord Stark's son questioned quickly, his face morphing into a frown. "You had a master? We've heard of such things here in the North, but I never thought I'd see it. I mean, those troopers from the Empire were talking about it and they seemed pretty serious about it. But now that you mention it, were you a slave?"

Shaking his head, Ezra spoke quickly to try and clear up the misunderstanding. "No. Well, yes, to the fact that there is slavery in the Empire. Disgusting practice, if you ask me. But no, I wasn't a slave. My Master, Kanan Jarrus, was the man who instructed me in the ways of the Force and how to become a Jedi Knight. He helped me gain the resolve to fight against the Empire and their tyrannical reign. He was my Master and I was his Padawan, his apprentice."

"He sounds like a good man," the Snow kid said with a look of respect.

"He was," Ezra nodded. The sorrow he felt nowadays whenever he thought of his former Master coming back in full force. "He died not too long ago. He sacrificed himself so that I and the others on our team could escape after rescuing Hera from prison." Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Ezra refocused his attention back on the cocky kid. "So, no, I will not wager my lightsaber on such a simple contest. It is far too important to me."

Despise the look of blatant disappointment, the kid nodded, "Fine, fine. Keep your fancy sword." Then his grin returned as he continued, "Anyway, the contest! How about archery? The one who can hit the farthest target wins."

Ezra didn't fail to notice the knowing glances, rolled eyes, and shaking heads from the boy's companions as he made his choice. 'Given the bow over his shoulder and the others' reactions, he must be pretty good as an archer.' "I've never used a bow before," he admitted in a somewhat whimsical fashion. "Sure, why not? Sounds fun! So, what's your name? What's all of your names?"

"I am Robb Stark, son and heir of Lord Stark," the redhead said quickly before gesturing to the Snow kid. "This is my half-brother, Jon Snow." Then he pointed to the cocky kid with the squid sigil, "That's Theon Greyjoy, heir to the Iron Islands and a ward of House Stark." Ezra noticed how Theon's eye twitched in agitation and a spike of resentment shot through him at the mention of his living status. Then Robb gestured to the young man with the tree sigil, who nodded simply. "This is Rodrik Forrester, sworn to House Glover."

"Let's take this outside," Theon suggested with his usual cocky grin, gesturing towards the hangar opening.

Ezra just returned his grin with a small one of his own. If nothing else, this could be fun.

(Author's Note) Big time thanks to ffdrake for helping me with this chapter! And if you guys haven't read his Game of Thrones x Star Wars story 'Song of the Northern Sorcerer' you don't know what you're missing out on!

Unfortunately, this chapter hasn't quite reached the point I wanted to post it at. But I figured that I might as well post what I have now, since I don't know when I'll get my muse back. You see, I - like most people in my area - was somewhat affected by that tornado that tore through middle Tennessee last week. Since then, I've been having to deal with power loss, debris cleanup and repair, closed roads, destroyed stores, and overtime at my new job. Yeah, it's tedious and annoying. So, I haven't had much spark recently work on this story. Hopefully that'll change as things improve, but we'll see.

Thanks for reading and please remember to post a review! I would REALLY like to know all your thoughts, opinions, and suggestions for this chapter and story!