6

As the conflict with wildlings and slavers escalated, the looming threat cast a foreboding shadow over Cryptfall. My father, recognizing my training with the Death Spikes, entrusted me with a pivotal role in the defense of our home. The approaching danger demanded a response, and with the lethal prowess of the Death Spikes, I became the vanguard, leading them against the impending terror.

In the midst of battle, the Death Spikes, an extension of my being, danced through the chaos with an ethereal grace. Each strike, fueled by the training that once seemed personal, now carried the weight of Cryptfall's defense. The enemies, faced with the ruthless efficiency of the death spikes, bestowed upon me the nickname "Wraith." It echoed through the battlefield, a testament to the fear instilled in those who sought to threaten our stronghold.

As the conflicts intensified, the legend of the Wraith of Cryptfall grew. The Death Spikes became a symbol not just of personal growth but of the indomitable spirit of our people against the approaching darkness.

After a couple of expeditions on wildlings and slavers, my father promoted me to squire. My training intensified from morning to evening with no gap. They drilled me in the combos of Death Spikes, making sure I got everything down without any blunders and mistakes. I nearly perfected 30 percent of the combos. Now I repeatedly trained in those combos to integrate them into my muscle memory. The remaining 70 percent are impossible for my child body to perform. Even after I became an adult, most of them are impossible; if anyone performs them, their blood vessels will rupture, and their internal organs will be damaged, leading them to die. I guess I have to perform the Rite of Obsidian Might to make my body stronger and more powerful; only after that can I perform those combos.

In our normal and peaceful life, the Ironborn's declaration of themselves as kings sent shockwaves through the realm, challenging the rule of King Robert Baratheon. News of their rebellion reached the ears of Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, prompting him to call the banners in defense of the Iron Throne. As the ominous clouds of rebellion gathered, our family found itself reluctantly drawn into the deadly affairs of the Seven Kingdoms.

Worry etched itself across my face as my father, Thaddeus, prepared to answer the call to arms. Our family, beset by the worst of luck, lacked the resources and manpower required for such conflicts. Breeding the exotic fish and increasing the cattle are in their initial stage; they require still some time to produce a profit. However, the brewing storm of rebellion threatened to expose the fragility of our house's position. The prospect of my father marching to war weighed heavily on my heart, for I knew the hardships that awaited our family.

Yet, duty and loyalty compelled us to heed our lord's call to raise an army, even when our coffers and levies seemed meager in comparison to the magnitude of the conflict. The whispers of concern echoed through the stone halls of Cryptfall as we grappled with the reality that awaited us. The North, bound by honor and loyalty, would answer the summons despite the challenges that lay ahead. In the face of adversity, we braced ourselves for the trials of war, knowing that the fate of the realm rested on the shoulders of those who would march beneath the direwolf banner of House Stark.

Day and night, the castle echoed with the sounds of blacksmiths forging weapons, armorers fitting mail to new recruits, and maesters hurriedly preparing medical supplies. My father's council was a mix of seasoned veterans and experienced people who would soon be thrust into the crucible of war.

My father raised an army of 1000, more than that my house can't dare to afford them. Most of them consist of old men, who are willing to give their lives for the younger generation. My father decided to leave most of the youth in our villages, cause it's only one house rebelling against the entire realm. It also acts as a subtle message to Eddard Stark, who seems to have forgotten the loyal houses that supported him during Robert's rebellion.

In a matter of one moon, my father raised the army, ready to join the Northern army in Winterfell.

"Take care, father, make sure to come back safely," I said.

"Be careful, Thad, don't you dare to die," my mother said.

"Ha ha, I will try my best, dear, and Ethan, make sure to keep Cryptfall safe in my absence. Sorry for the pitiful amount of soldiers I left in Crypt; any fewer soldiers in our army make our house look less compared to others." He said.

"Don't worry, father, I will manage," I said.

Finally, with the horn, the army started, their wives and children came to send them off.

After my father's departure, I started my duty. From morning to afternoon, I would practice. From afternoon to night, I would do my lordly duties. I sent some scouts beyond the wall to anticipate any threats that might emerge from the wildlings. I started to construct barricades at strategic points around the castle and fishing villages, and the vulnerable areas were reinforced with makeshift defenses. I also initiated the gathering of an inventory of supplies to ensure the castle could withstand a potential siege.

Days turned into weeks, and news from the frontlines arrived sporadically. The scouts beyond the Wall reported no imminent threats, providing a temporary respite. Yet, the tension within Cryptfall persisted as the rebellion unfolded in the wider world. I continued to fortify the castle, ensuring that Cryptfall stood resilient against any challenges that may come its way.

After five moons, news reached that in retribution for burning Lannisport, King Robert, leading the army to crush the Ironborn in their own islands. I became elated knowing that my father will return soon. But the happiness shattered after reading message from a scout beyond the wall.

"200 wildlings started to march towards Little Trout Village, knowing the lord's absence."