Brunoise

(Altair's POV)

Altair was getting washed, dried, and wrapped by the maids. During all this, Altair was having a memory breakdown for multiple reasons. First, Altair tried hard to remember who he was, but all he got were glimpses of the sad past. Altair also knew that he had passed through some kind of endless black void and was, probably, reincarnated, but he couldn't remember where and how he got reincarnated. All he could remember were his parents' faces and memories from his previous life. He slowly recalled everything from common sense to his personality. He also remembered bits of knowledge that his memory had retained and the passion of his past life. His thinking process gradually returned, allowing him to ponder all that.

The second reason was that he heard a word that shocked his soul. The word 'Arryn' and the blue banner—the color of the sky—featuring a falcon and the moon hanging on the wall behind the maid, all belonged to a world he longed for in his memories. Especially after his parents' death, he immersed himself in work and Planetos fiction (TV series, books, maps, and fan fiction based on this world).

'Did I really reincarnate into the Game of Thrones world? What bittersweet luck I have,' thought Altair as he quickly accepted the fact that he had reincarnated into a realm of intrigue, danger, and wonder—a place where people navigated treacherous landscapes, political machinations, and magical forces.

'But wait, did she just say Jon? Am I the son of this man? What the hell? And am I the son of the second wife, Rowena? Am I a product of incest? Not that I care,' thought Altair as he cursed his unfortunate luck.

Altair first looked at the memory of the lady who was supposed to be his mother. She was truly a beautiful and elegant lady. From his reading in his previous life, he knew she was the cousin of her husband, who had died without any children. He who has in two weeks learned the common tongue due to his strong soul was going through the scene of that night of warmth in his mind.

A small tear ran down his sky blue eyes which matched the blue of house Arryn's banner. He decided that if he survived the

He then turned to look at his supposed father. He didn't feel the same warmth from his father as he did from his mother. Perhaps because his love for him is more as an heir bound by honour, duty and worry about his lineage. It can also be due to my mother being his second wife and his many stillborns earlier that he didn't feel much love from me apart from sense of duty of a father.

He was one of the few efficient lords in Westeros. Not greedy, he loved his people, and most of them liked him.

However, he became a fool for his honour. He fought a battle without any real benefits for his foster son.

Giving up the throne to a foolish drunkard when he was the backbone of the realm. Babysitting two impulsive teenagers—one an honourable fool and the other a whoring drunkard blinded by revenge. He also took on the laborious work of the Hand of the King, serving a king who himself didn't give a damn about ruling his kingdom.

He also ended up getting c*ckolded by his wife and his banner lord who he himself recommended to have a sit at the high table. All his life's honour burn to ashes by his wife giving birth to a son which he never discovers actually to be Petyr Baelish's son.

His end was more tragic than Caesar as Altair imagined his last words must have been, 'Et tu, Lysa?'. Thinking of this he burst in hysterical laughter which only came out as childish giggles of newborn.

**(Altair's POV )**

[1 month after his birth] [278 AC]

Amidst bouts of sleep, he began to contemplate his future. First, he needed to become a skilled fighter and learn how to wield a weapon. Although he often observed Ned and Robert practicing while cradled in his father's arms, he knew he wouldn't follow Robert's path and choose a mundane and destructive weapon like a war hammer.

The war hammer was undoubtedly effective in armored combat against knights and in battlefields, but it had limited moves. Its effectiveness depended on sheer strength. The heavier the hammer, the more strength required for a swing. In a duel or private one-on-one combat, the wielder would be hindered by the hammer's weight. Imagine wearing steel knight's armor and trying to pin down an agile opponent with a heavy hammer—you'd be panting like a dog in no time, feeling as if a mountain is pressing upon you.

Altair considered becoming a swordsman like Ned. Ultimately, he decided to learn swordsmanship only as an auxiliary skill. Swords symbolized nobility, and wielding one was a benchmark for a noble lord. However, contrary to popular belief, swords were not universally superior weapons. While they excelled at cutting, slashing, and stabbing, their power was limited. Swords relied heavily on agility and momentum. In chaotic battlefields with restricted space, an agile weapon like a sword lacked the necessary momentum to cut through even thick leather or chain mail.

Swords were limited for stabbing and thrusting on a Westeros style battlefield filled with armoured knights, occasionally slashing weak points in an opponent's armor. However, their range and penetration were insufficient for lethal combat. Imagine boxing in middle of a packed concert, your moves are limited to pushing your opponent and throwing one-inch punches. Even on a battlefield, where space was little more spread out, length of a sword added to your arm's length, spares very little room for maneuvering.

Rhaegar's defeat at Robert's hand exemplified this limitation. If Rhaegar had truly been the legendary swordsman rumored, Robert would not have prevailed in a one-on-one melee. And for those overly enthusiastic katana fans, attempting to fight in Westeros with knights present would be disastrous—they'd be cut down before denting the knights' armor. There is a reason why they used long swords and great swords for hundreds of years.

(A.N : All the katana transmigrators must have died in their first battle, therefore in this story MC is the only reincarnated soul. The rest were buried in battlefield along with their flashy Damascus katanas. Those young masters who don't believe me can find nearest truck kun on your nearest highway- go to westeros and try it for yourself. )

Battle axes outperformed swords in cutting ability, on the battlefield and in melee combat. Their maneuverability in narrow spaces, combined with sufficient power, allowed them to cut through joints of armor and chain mail effectively. However, their limited range forces you to enter your enemy's kill zone first.

However, all three—battle axes, war hammers, and swords—shared a common weakness: vulnerability to cavalry. Surprise charges and ambushes by mounted knights posed significant threats.

Spear, on the other hand, excelled at stabbing and thrusting. Its range kept the wielder out of the opponent's killing zone, and it has stabbing power to penetrate a knights' armor. Spears could even dismount opponents during surprise cavalry attacks. While not inherently advantageous against cavalry, they were highly effective and as best as it gets against cavalry.

Altair's conclusion regarding his weapon of choice was the halberd. Combining the cutting power of axes, the blunt force of a hammer, and the range and stabbing ability of a spear, the halberd offered versatility. While facing any kind of armoured knight on and off battlefield you had options of cutting enemy's armored joints, stabbing through the thick armour plate at the chest, or delivering a powerful blow to cave in his armor shattering his ribs or skull at your own discretion.

Altair has chosen a set of throwing knives (throwing daggers) and archery as his secondary weapons. These come into play only in special situations, such as long-range sniping or desperate moments when he has lost his primary weapon. These two options cover a wide range of scenarios: long-range, medium-range, and ultra-close combat or hand-to-hand grappling. They perfectly compensate for any weaknesses left by using a halberd.

The second issue deeply troubles both Altair and his father. Altair recognizes the importance of his body; it determines his raw power in this world (except perhaps for magic, which also demands sacrifices like body parts, life force, and even human or animal sacrifices, based on information about this world).

The major problem lies in the fact that since birth, I have been pale and sickly. Lord Jon had many maesters examine me and even sent letters to Oldtown. Despite their efforts, the only conclusion they reached was that something went wrong during my birth. This seems plausible, especially since my mother died during childbirth.

The midwives say that if I had been born during a winter year, I might not have survived. Fortunately, the seasons in Westeros last from one to about seven or eight years. I also recall the longest winter in the books lasting around ten years.

However, I alone know that the reason for my weakness lies in the imbalance between my body and my soul. My soul is simply too powerful for this infant body to handle. It grants me heightened intelligence and complex thoughts even as an infant, but it requires a tremendous amount of energy.

For now, I've set this issue aside and focused on the third problem I must confront. I need to become the Lord of the Eyrie and the Lord Paramount of the Vale. I won't allow Littlefinger to place his son Robin on the seat, nor will I let that foolish Lysa from House Tully to take charge of the Vale.

I intend to transform the Vale into a powerful kingdom during the War of the Five Kings. Once everyone has finished killing each other, I'll deal with whatever remains of the other great houses and establish full control over Westeros. These are my plans, and I won't let the Vale flounder like it did in the show—afraid to enter the game and only marching to save a North bastard from another of his bannermen's bastards.

As Altair contemplates all this, the door to his room opens, revealing his milkmaids: two middle-aged women who resemble beautiful MILFs and a teenage girl named Jenna, around 16 years old, who appears innocent. Jenna, according to his diagnosis is a virgin with condition of Galactorrhea, she also has the most delicious milk of all the maids.

Observing the three maids, who are required too satisfy high energy intake, he focuses on beautiful Jenna, while three more important things pop up in his mind. First, His maids are very attractive. Second, His maids are very attractive. Third, His maids are very attractive.

Important matters must be repeated three times.