Harrenhal, the military strategy hall.[Some events from earlier chapters are referenced here to establish the timeline. They won't affect later plot—please go easy on it.]
Tywin Lannister, Duke of Casterly Rock, gestured to the serving girl with his cup and asked, "You're from the North?"
"Yes. Barrowlands," Arya Stark replied without batting an eye, lying smoothly. It was land owned by a Northern noble house, and she knew it well.
Tywin nodded. "How do the Northerners view Robb Stark?"
Mentioning her brother Robb, Arya felt this was a question she could handle.
"People say Robb rides into battle atop a direwolf, an undead Young Wolf, able to freely shift between man and wolf," she said.
"Do you believe that?" Tywin asked.
Arya thought of her dead father, Eddard Stark, former Warden of the North. She looked calmly at Tywin and said, "All men must die."
The North of Westeros, in the lord's residence of Fishing Village Port.
Lynn jolted awake from his dream. He had actually dreamed of that Valar Morghulis scene. That was damn terrifying.
He had transmigrated into the world of Game of Thrones for nearly a year now. As the only son, he had just inherited his family's noble title and become the small lord of Fishing Village Port.
A raven landed on the gray stone windowsill, opened its beak, and let out a sharp cry.
Lynn got out of bed, walked to the window, took the letter tied to the raven's leg, and unfolded it.
Another demand urging this minor lord to send reinforcements south to support Robb Stark's campaign.
Judging by the threatening tone, Robb's army was in desperate need of more Northern soldiers.
As a transmigrator, Lynn knew very well that Robb's southern expedition would gain him nothing. He would even lose Winterfell itself.
But Robb was about to be proclaimed King in the North by his bannermen.
If Lynn refused the summons outright, that would be defying the will of the North. After that, he'd have no way to survive here.
Yet if he sent away the dozen or so men under his command, how would he hold his territory?
If a random band of bandits showed up, not only would his lands be looted, even his own life might not be safe.
"I'd rather donate my entire fortune—30 gold dragons, 110 silver stags, 886 copper stars, and 3 copper bits—than hand over the men who protect my home to be squandered by Robb."
Lynn frowned deeply, thinking bitterly.
"Ding. Congratulations, Host. Troop-Spawning System loading. Please wait."
The crisp voice startled Lynn so badly he jumped.
He froze for a moment, then nearly burst into tears of grievance and joy.
System Grandpa, you finally showed up!
Ever since arriving in this Game of Thrones world, he'd been living in constant fear, unable to sleep at night, pressured day after day by Robb's demands for troops. He was so worried his hair was turning white.
About two minutes later, the notification sounded again:
"Loading complete. Please check the interface. Explore troop spawning independently and work hard to complete missions."
[Ding! Congratulations to the Host for being selected by the Troop-Spawning System]
[As a Troop-Spawning System, pay-to-win is the true path]
[Current System Level: Level 1]
[Initial activation investment: 30 gold dragons, 110 silver stags, 886 copper stars, 3 copper bits. First Top-Up Reward achieved]
[Current Upgrade EXP: 30.1/100]
[Available Points: 301]
[Note 1: Every 2 EXP points can spawn 2 Level-1 Infantry, 2 Level-1 Spearmen, or 1 Level-1 Cavalry / 1 Level-1 Archer]
[Note 2: Every 3 EXP points can spawn 3 padded armors, 2 chain armors, or 1 rusted steel armor]
[Note 3: First Top-Up (1 gold dragon) reward achieved—one Point Draw Card]
[Note 4: First Top-Up (10 gold dragons) reward achieved—one random special unit: Ranger, Traveler, Steward, Assassin, or Gladiator Swordsman]
This… Troop-Spawning System?!
After carefully listening to every system notification, Lynn stood there dumbfounded for a long while, repeatedly confirming it wasn't an illusion. His face slowly flushed red.
A pig-being-slaughtered howl echoed throughout the lord's castle of Fishing Village Port.
"Damn it—I whaled my entire fortune!"
Lynn clutched his chest in pain. In a single impulsive decision, he had poured his entire family wealth into the system.
Thankfully, the old man of this world—Viscount Rothschild—had already passed away. Otherwise, he'd probably be hopping mad, slapping Lynn left and right.
And the pain didn't stop there.
The First Top-Up Big Gift only required 10 gold dragons, yet he'd overpaid by a full 20 gold dragons, 110 silver stags, 886 copper stars, and 3 copper bits!
Luckily, the landlord still had some reserves. Otherwise, tomorrow he'd be leading his people out to drink the northwest wind.
In the world of Game of Thrones, one silver coin could buy a virgin. A single gold dragon was equivalent to tens of thousands of RMB!
Lynn panted in heartache, eyes locked on the Point Draw Card and the Special Profession Draw Card in his mind.
He had staked his entire fortune.
Whether he could become the most dazzling lord in the North and step onto the peak of life depended on them.
Thinking about drawing cards, Lynn wondered whether he should bathe and change clothes, then offer a prayer to the Old Gods worshipped throughout the North—
When suddenly, a mournful horn sounded outside the castle.
One blast meant alert.Two blasts meant a small enemy force.Three blasts…
A large force.
"Damn it—it must be pirates…"
Sure enough, heaven never cuts off all paths—no, heaven brings sudden disasters.
Lynn felt like crying. His mind started to spiral.
Lynn's territory was roughly the size of a small township. The lord's seat, Fishing Village Port Castle, lay on the southernmost coast of the North.
Most of the people lived clustered within the fortified village, making their living by fishing.
The greatest threat came from pirates based on the Three Sisters Islands in the Bite, between the North and the Vale.
These people would periodically raid small coastal settlements.
Lynn's face turned tense. He'd heard these pirates numbered in the hundreds, hiding on the islands and minding their own business most of the time.
Even the great lords of the North and the Vale couldn't be bothered to deal with them.
"Close the gates!" Lynn shouted immediately.
"By order of the lord—close the gates!"
"Prepare for battle!"
As soon as Lynn finished speaking, the people inside the castle sprang into action. Though panic-stricken, they quickly assembled.
The dozen or so guards under his command—the strongest fighters he had—were fully equipped. Most wore coarse leather armor or chainmail, and their weapons were a mixed assortment.
The wooden palisade gates slammed shut.
Fishing Village Port was called a city, but in truth it was nothing more than a large village enclosed by wooden stakes.
Fortunately, the tops of the palisades were sharpened, over three meters tall. Ordinary bandits would have a hard time breaching them.
There were also a few watchtowers where five or six archers could fire. That already counted as basic defensive capability.
The territory's residents made their living fishing at sea. Their skin was darkened by sun and wind, but their bodies were lean and strong.
Now, stirred up by Lynn's men, they nervously clutched fishing spears, bracing them against the sealed gates.
Lynn climbed up to a watchtower on the wooden wall.
In the distance, at the docks, he saw a chaotic crowd of pirates pouring off their ships—men wielding axes, knives, and spears, dressed in rough cloth.
Watching their dusty, disorganized appearance, Lynn bit his tongue.
For a moment, he thought he was seeing things.
This messy rabble… were these really the fearsome pirates of the Three Sisters?
Just… this?
Lynn turned his head to look at the old man beside him—Hill, the white-bearded scholar, the second most educated man in Fishing Village Port Castle.
He asked, "Are these people really pirates?"
Lynn could hardly believe it.
Old Scholar Hill, startled by the sheer number of enemies, stared wide-eyed before replying respectfully, "My lord, without a doubt. That is the banner of the Three Sisters. They are the most vicious pirates of the islands in the Bite."
Lynn froze.
Only then did he notice a tall, powerfully built man among the pirates, holding a banner aloft.
On the flag, fishing net cord outlined the image of a skeletal bird. Years of seawater corrosion had left the banner tattered and rotten, flapping raggedly in the sea breeze above the crowd on the beach.
Yet no matter how Lynn looked at them, these pirates didn't seem like much of a threat.
With his modern, compulsory-education-level intelligence, a single idiom surfaced in his mind:
A rabble.
He let out a breath and slowly calmed down.
(It's a niche novel—please bear with it. Gentlemen, go easy, no need to stir trouble.)
(If you're interested, toss a few free recommendation votes. Much appreciated.)
(End of Chapter)