Chapter 7: A New Day [Edited 11/08/24]

Awakening at dawn, I prepared myself for my first sword training in both lives. I couldn't deny feeling nervous. I could count on one hand the times I'd needed to use violence to resolve a problem, and I wasn't sure if I was ready for it, let alone taking someone's life in cold blood.

Nevertheless, there was also excitement. Who hadn't imagined being in battle, riding towards enemies for a deadly duel? But facing it in real life was vastly different from dreaming about it after a day of playing video games.

While bathing and changing, I instructed my insects to continue gathering biomass. Due to the cold northern climate, the number of insects under my control was insignificant. I only found mosquitoes, ants, a few beetles, and worms in such frigid conditions.

Deciding to scout around Winterfell and Winter Town for more insects, I felt a beehive near the Wolfswood. I ordered them to reproduce quickly and relocate closer to the castle's radius.

Thanks to the conversation with my parents, where I revealed my powers, I managed to secure a portion of the dungeons to house my swarm. Given their small size, I managed to do it without anyone noticing the change in the insects' behavior.

My father, Lord Stark, instructed the servants to use that dungeon part to store extra food and unused biomass in the castle. Without question, they began using it as a dump, and my insects continued consuming the available biomass. Within the dungeon, my insects reproduced rapidly. When they ran out of biomass to consume, they either continued reproducing endlessly or rested.

As a result, the amount of energy available increased exponentially. I decided to use this extra energy for the first time to create my first modified insects. Using a pair of beetles under my control as a template, I enhanced their senses biologically to see, feel, and hear, similar to humans. These beetles would act as additional eyes, watching my blind spots.

Noting that a third of my energy was used to create ten modified beetles, I wondered if this was due to the modifications or simply the act of creating insects.

"I need to increase the number of available insects," I whispered as I headed toward the castle.

I created eight pairs of ants and modified them to enhance their reproduction efficiency. I altered their biology so that males and females emitted pheromones that stimulated the natural ant need to procreate, facilitating easy insemination.

I ordered my new insects to move to the dungeon to start reproducing, and then I returned to the castle, heading to the library for research.

"Good morning, Maester Luwin," I greeted the maester as I made my way to the anatomy section.

"Good morning, Robb. I hope you're ready for your practice with Jory," the maester replied.

"I'm excited, Maester. But I want to study a bit before practice," I said, pulling a book from the shelf.

"Of course, milord. Go ahead. I'll continue preparing materials for your studies with me," the maester said, continuing his work at a nearby table.

Sitting at a secluded table, I began studying human muscles. Ever since discovering my power, I had the idea of creating an insect capable of sensing muscle tension to anticipate movements. I wanted to develop a form of precognition where insects strategically placed on my opponent could transmit information about their movements before they made them.

Using ants as a base, which can go unnoticed due to their small size, I enhanced their sensory system to better detect vibrations and their neuronal system to instantly transmit information. Theoretically, with these ants, I could anticipate my opponent's movements.

Creating a dozen ants, depleting the energy I had. I kept half near me, instructing them to stay on my head, and sent the other half to the dungeon to reproduce.

Next, I began thinking about how to use my future knowledge to my advantage. First, I needed to enhance security within Winterfell. Knowing my enemies' capabilities gave me an edge. To everyone else, I was just Robb Stark, the heir to the poorest kingdom in the Seven Kingdoms, a ten-year-old with nothing special compared to other famous nobles.

Varys and Littlefinger were known to use spies; Varys with his "little birds" and Littlefinger with his connections in brothels. I needed to be cautious around them and investigate Winter Town's orphanage and the brothel frequented by Theon.

Aware that I couldn't reveal my knowledge of the future, I devised an initial plan. My primary focus would be rapidly expanding my swarm, requiring a significant amount of biomass for modified insects and traveling to different northern houses to obtain various natural insects.

Afterward, I would create insects to facilitate the growth of essential plants and animals for the North's subsistence, either by injecting nutrients or using modified insects as fertilizers to promote their growth and health.

Training Yard

I was in the training yard, ready for my first practice with blunted swords. I knew that in Westeros, learning to defend oneself in close combat was essential for any houselord, especially for me, given my lineage and responsibility over the North.

"Ready, milord?" Jory Cassel, Winterfell's captain of the guard, asked.

"Yes, Jory, please be gentle with me," I said, taking my sword and assuming a beginner's stance.

Jory frowned. "We'll start slowly, milord. Everyone in the castle has heard about what happened. I'll make sure not to push your body too hard."

With no strategy beyond trying to strike Jory, I lunged at him with a quick lateral movement, attempting to break his defense.

Not taking the fight seriously, Jory responded with a downward slash that I managed to block, though the force made me step back.

"Not bad, milord. I'm glad your reflexes are working," Jory said, stepping forward with his sword pointed toward the ground.

"Thank you, Jory. Let's continue," I said, raising my sword and attacking like he had moments before, but this time with more force. Jory simply sidestepped to avoid my strike.

Jory countered with a vertical cut, which I blocked with my sword, but he capitalized on my movement with a kick to the chest that knocked me to the ground.

"Pause, pause," I requested, taking deep breaths. "I need a moment to think, Jory," I added, stepping back and closing my eyes to concentrate.

Controlling the recently created ants, I ordered them to take their place at critical points on Jory's body.

"I'm ready, Jory," I said; in my mind, the ants captured the sensations of each of his movements.

"Of course, milord," Jory replied, assuming his stance and raising his sword.

Through the ants, I tried to memorize the sensations captured during Jory's movements, preparing to anticipate each of his actions.

Each time Jory tensed a muscle, the ants gave me an additional fraction of a second to react. Gradually, I noticed the difference: I knew which muscle Jory would move before he did, stepping back when he advanced, raising my sword to block his every time his wrist prepared to strike.

Despite my weak body and lack of speed, I kept up with him. I noticed he intensified his attacks as the practice continued, but I could anticipate and react in time to dodge or block each of his strikes.

Surprised by my sudden improvement, Jory continued escalating the intensity of his attacks. However, this meant little; Jory was a skilled fighter but couldn't compare to Westeros's best. He wasn't as fast as Oberyn Martell or as strong as The Mountain and certainly didn't have the fluidity and technique of the Kingslayer.

Neither he nor I noticed the silence falling over the training yard. I closed in on Jory, who began taking the practice more seriously. He dodged my attacks; realistically, my ten-year-old body lacked the strength and speed to harm him. And despite his attempts to strike me with his sword, I could evade all his attacks.

Blow after blow, we continued the fight until the silence of the training yard made us realize everyone was watching us with surprised expressions.

My parents were watching. Catelyn was both concerned and proud as she saw me evade all the attacks, and my father smiled a small smile of satisfaction for the show we had provided.

The silence was broken by Arya, who jumped excitedly, shouting that her brother would be the best swordsman in Westeros.

"There, see that?" Arya exclaimed. "My brother will be the best!"

"Well done, son. I'm very proud of you," my father said.

As Arya's cheers echoed through the training yard, I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride in my newfound abilities.

Evading Jory's attacks had been exhausting but fulfilling, a testament to the potential of the combat side of insect control.

Standing in the middle of the onlookers' stares, including my parents' proud gazes, I realized that learning to fight was just the beginning of my journey.