Game of Thrones: The Rise of the Northern Wolf

Ugh, so uncomfortable!

A wave of dizziness and nausea, accompanied by the sensation of stomach acid rising, assaulted him as his consciousness gradually cleared.

"Robb, Robb! How are you feeling? Can you stand?"

A concerned voice, speaking in a language that was definitely not something familiar to him, rang in his ears, but he instantly understood its meaning.

What language is this? Robb? So my name is Robb here?

'Robb', still dazed, heard the words and shook his head left and right, as if trying to shake off the dizziness and nausea.

Whether it was the shaking that helped or not, the dizzy and nauseous feeling quickly subsided, and Robb slowly opened his eyes.

He saw a young man with dark brown hair and sharp, handsome features, staring at him with a pair of gray eyes.

Seeing Robb open his eyes, the young man exerted strength with his hands on the former's right shoulder and pulled him up from the cold, gravel-strewn ground.

"Robb, what happened just now? Why did you suddenly faint?"

Standing beside Robb was a boy around 10 years old with chestnut hair and delicate features. His voice was soft as he asked his question.

Robb, still confused by the situation, had no idea how to respond to the boy's question.

"Hehe, Robb, did you sneak out last night to see a woman and then have a wild night?"

At that moment, a slender young man with pale skin and a mischievous grin approached.

As he handed Robb a leather water pouch he had taken from his horse, he teased him.

"Shh, quiet! Look, Lord Eddard is about to start."

The dark-haired young man frowned as he interrupted, seeing the mischievous youth discussing such adult topics in front of the young boy.

Robb finally had the time to take in his surroundings.

He was in a small valley filled with greenery and rocks. Around a dozen soldiers clad in shining armor, swords at their waists, holding flags, stood in a circle at the top of the valley.

About five meters ahead of Robb, there was a slightly flattened stone platform.

On it stood several tall, burly men. Three of them wore black cloaks made from animal fur, indicating they held important statuses.

The man on the far left was distinctive; he had grayish-white hair tied on either side of his head near his chin, making it look like he had a long gray-white beard.

On the far right stood a middle-aged man with sharp eyes and a respectful expression. He held a long broadsword with an animal-hide scabbard in both hands.

In the center stood a middle-aged man with a serious expression. His face was long, and his neatly trimmed beard was starting to gray. He had brown hair and gray eyes.

Even without speaking, the man exuded an aura of authority and command as he stood there silently.

In front of the three men stood two soldiers wearing standard-issue armor and round helmets.

They were restraining a prisoner, a man dressed in black, with a face so haggard that it was almost skeletal. His head was pressed tightly against a wooden block, stained with dark brown and black spots.

The stern man in the center nodded slightly toward the man holding the sword on the right. The latter walked forward respectfully, placing the broadsword he had been holding in front of him.

Screech... Clang!

The broadsword, gleaming coldly, slid out of its scabbard with a sharp metallic sound that lingered in the air.

The sword-bearer stepped back a few paces, while the stern man held the sword in both hands and stood before the prisoner. He began speaking calmly and steadily…

"In the name of the King of the Andals and the First Men, of the Seven Kingdoms..."

Boom!!!

Seeing this scene and hearing the judgment from the stern man, Robb, who had been feeling an inexplicable sense of familiarity, suddenly felt as if he had been struck by lightning.

This is... the iconic opening scene of the Stark family in 'Game of Thrones'!

Did I just transmigrate after pulling an all-nighter at work? Isn't this a bit too absurd?

No matter how chaotic Robb's mind was, the stern man's judgment had already reached its conclusion.

"I, Eddard Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, hereby sentence you to death!"

Swish... Thud, thud, thud!

With those words, Eddard Stark swiftly and cleanly decapitated the prisoner, his practiced movements sending a chill down Robb's spine.

The prisoner's head rolled like a ball, and blood from the headless body spurted out, adding fresh color to the dark brown wood of the block.

This gruesome execution scene didn't stir any emotions in Robb, as if he had long become accustomed to it.

Seeing that Robb no longer showed any signs of distress, the young man with black hair, or rather Jon Snow, released his hands from the former's shoulders and was the first to walk towards the horses behind him.

As he turned, he softly encouraged the boy on Robb's left, who was biting his lip while witnessing the execution, "You did well, Bran."

"Tch! If I hadn't fetched the water pouch for Robb, 'Ice' should have been presented to Lord Eddard by me," Theon Greyjoy muttered with a hint of dissatisfaction, pursing his lips as he turned to follow Jon.

"Brother, let's go together!"

Bran swallowed, tugging gently on Robb's black cloak with his right hand as he spoke softly.

Brother? That's right, I'm… Robb Stark!

The 'Young Wolf Lord' of the Stark family, the future King in the North, the greatest tragedy in the Red Wedding!

As Robb thought of this, a flood of information and memories suddenly surged through his mind.

Bran, looking worriedly at Robb, who stood there staring blankly, hesitated, wondering if he should call out again to his elder brother, who had been acting strangely today.

***

"Bran, do you understand why I had to kill him?"

At this moment, Eddard Stark, adjusting the glove on his right hand with his left, walked over to the two brothers without stopping. He glanced at Robb, who was holding the water pouch and standing in a daze, then turned to ask Bran.

"Because he was a deserter from the Night's Watch."

Hearing his father's question, Bran suppressed his thoughts, turned to Eddard, and replied with pursed lips.

"And why did I have to carry out the execution myself?"

"Because the Stark family upholds its honor and follows ancient traditions."

"Right. 'The one who passes the sentence should swing the sword.' Bran, go on ahead. I have a few words to say to Robb."

Eddard nodded in satisfaction at Bran's answer.

As he watched Bran turn and leave, he continued speaking in a teaching tone to the still-stunned Robb, "Robb, I've already warned you before, excessive training won't make you stronger; it'll only lead to a series of adverse consequences.

No matter how strong a lone wolf is, it can never defeat a lion!

The honor of House Stark has never been built on one person alone. Our family's unity, and the unity of all Northern men, is what allows us to survive the winter!"

"Take a break for a couple of days; don't train. Next time something like this happens in our land, you'll personally lead the capture and trial."

"Yes, Father!"

By this time, Robb, no… Robb Stark, who had just finished integrating the information and memories in his mind, replied reflexively to Eddard.

Looking at his eldest son, who was now nearly as tall as himself, Eddard patted Robb on the shoulder and headed towards the horses.

He didn't see the intense and determined look in his eldest son's eyes behind him.

A moment ago I was an ordinary office worker, and now I have become Robb Stark, heir to the Warden of the North and the Lord of Winterfell!

Gulp!

Robb pulled the stopper from the leather water pouch in his hand and took a large swig, as if trying to extinguish the flames raging in his heart with the cold spring water.

***

The Stark family's return journey was unusually quiet. Eddard Stark rode silently at the front of the group; he hadn't earned the nickname 'the Quiet Wolf' in his youth for nothing.

Ser Rodrik Cassel, the gray-haired master-at-arms of Winterfell, and Jory Cassel, the captain of the guard entrusted with the care of 'Ice', followed closely behind.

Jon and Bran, evidently closer to each other, rode side by side, whispering about something.

Theon, who was beside Robb, kept grumbling non-stop. He complained about how Robb had sneaked out of the castle last night without calling him along. They could have had some wild fun together, enjoying the night endlessly.

Of course, Robb didn't pay any attention to his words. He knew he had only a few months left to prepare, and his mind was already filled with countless development plans.

Of course, he had also discarded countless plans!

After the fusion of the two souls, there were no longer any issues with riding, archery, or swordsmanship.

These were the results of Robb's relentless training for over a decade, already ingrained in his body memory, as if he had trained them himself.

However, the North had been at peace for 9 years now, with only the occasional bandit, scattered Wildlings, or murderers to deal with.

There was simply no excuse for Robb to develop his own private forces.

The Winterfell garrison and the vassals throughout the North could only be summoned and commanded by his father, Eddard.

Of course, a few months later, after his father Eddard was imprisoned in King's Landing, Acting Lord Robb would also have the authority to call upon them.

But waiting for fate to take its course and history to repeat itself was absolutely not what the current Robb wanted.

When they were halfway through their journey, at an old, worn-out stone bridge,

Theon, finding Robb unusually silent and dull today, took the initiative to ride ahead as a scout and discovered the corpse of a strong stag.

Under Eddard's guidance, they found the body of a female direwolf and five fluffy, unusually adorable direwolf pups under the bridge.

After some discussion, Eddard eventually accepted Jon's suggestion and decided to adopt them.

The excited Bran was the first to pick up the direwolf pup he had chosen and headed up towards the stone bridge.

Seeing his son's joyful expression, Eddard shook his head indulgently and turned to follow him up the slope.

Robb, on the other hand, took a few steps forward and naturally picked up the largest of the remaining four pups, a direwolf with ash-grey fur and yellow eyes.

You were originally meant to be called Greywind, but now, you are my Bloodwind!

Looking at the unusually docile direwolf pup in front of him, Robb decided to change its name slightly to remind himself constantly of the tragedy of the Red Wedding.

[Detected low-level supernatural lifeform. Do you wish to form a blood pact?]

As Robb settled on the name Bloodwind in his heart, a line of translucent characters formed from blood appeared before his eyes.

....

Footnotes:

Ice: The name of the large ancestral sword of House Stark. It is made of Valyrian steel, known for its sharpness and strength. In this chapter, Eddard Stark uses it to execute a deserter, a duty he performs personally to uphold Stark honor.

The Quiet Wolf: A nickname for Eddard Stark, reflecting his calm, reserved, and introspective personality. This chapter highlights his steady authority during the execution scene.