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The great hall of Bear Island buzzed with the low murmur of voices, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows across the stone walls. Lord Mormont sat at the head of the table, his stern gaze sweeping over the men gathered before him. The recent attack on their shores weighed heavily on the room, and the air was thick with tension.
"We drove them off, but not without cost," one of the men, a grizzled veteran with a scar running down his cheek, muttered as he leaned forward. "It was definitely the Ironborn. They strike without warning, like the dogs they are."
"Aye," another man agreed, slamming his fist on the table for emphasis. "They had no banners—wanted to escape the Crown's punishment."
"Or avoid being tied to their lords," a third voice chimed in, this one older, wiser. The man's hair was streaked with gray, his eyes sharp with experience. "They were probably sellswords hired by the Ironborn. Looting and raiding is in their nature."
A chorus of agreement echoed through the hall, but Lord Mormont remained silent, his brow furrowed in deep thought. He considered the implications carefully, weighing each possibility against the knowledge he held.
Finally, he spoke, his voice cutting through the din like a blade. "The Ironborn are bold, but they are not that stupid. If it were truly them, once it's confirmed, the Iron Islands would be reduced to ashes by the King. They know this."
The hall fell quiet, the gravity of his words sinking in. Mormont's reputation as a leader was not one of rash decisions, and his men trusted his judgment. But the uncertainty gnawed at him; something about the attack didn't sit right.
After a moment, he turned to the maester standing at the edge of the room, the man's robes rustling as he stepped forward.
"send a raven Inform Lord Stark," Mormont commanded, his voice steady. "Inquire about the activity of pirates and any groups like them on the eastern shores. See if any slipped through their nets and made it this far to us."
The maester bowed his head in acknowledgment. "At once, my lord," he replied, his voice dutiful.
But as he turned to leave, Mormont's voice called him back.
"Wait," Mormont said, a sudden change of heart evident in his tone. "No, don't. I'll send someone personally to meet Lord Stark. This requires more than just words on parchment."
The maester paused, understanding the weight of the decision. "As you wish, my lord," he said, and with a final bow, he left the hall to carry out his orders.
Lord Mormont sat back in his chair, his mind still turning over the possibilities. The attack had been brazen, but the lack of banners, the apparent disorganization—something didn't add up. If the Ironborn were behind this, they were playing a dangerous game. And if they weren't... his thoughts churning as the hall emptied around him. His eyes narrowed as he muttered to himself, "It really makes no sense..."
The pieces of the puzzle refused to fit together, and the uncertainty gnawed at him. But then, like a sudden spark in the dark, he remembered—the boy who had saved his life during the skirmish.
Turning sharply, he called out to one of his men, a stout, reliable warrior who had been by his side for years. "What of that lad? The one who pulled me from the fray—has he opened his eyes yet?"
The man hesitated for a moment, caught off guard. "I have yet to check, my lord. Should—"
Before the words were fully out, Lord Mormont snapped, his voice sharp with impatience. "Go check on him, you fool, and bring him to me at once!"
The man flinched at the rebuke and quickly nodded, scrambling to obey. "At once, my lord," he stammered, before hurrying out of the hall.
*****
Aeron's eyes flickered open, his vision hazy and unfocused. His arm throbbed with a dull, persistent pain, bandages wrapped tightly around it. As his senses gradually returned, he took in his surroundings. The room was dimly lit, the walls rough and worn. The wooden beams overhead were cracked, and the single window was small and grimy, allowing only a sliver of daylight to filter through. The bed he lay in creaked with every movement, its straw mattress thin and lumpy. It was a peasant's room, modest and barely maintained, but still leagues better than the cold, filthy stable he had woken up in before.
A sudden, intrusive notification pinged in his mind, startling him out of his groggy state.
[Quest Complete: Survive.
You Leveled Up! You Leveled Up! You Leveled Up! You Leveled Up!]
Aeron blinked, the words floating before his eyes. "Wow," he muttered to himself, a mix of surprise and disbelief in his voice. "well as long as it's over."
The system chimed again, this time with a message that made his heart skip a beat.
Skill Unlocked: Ruler's Authority
Aeron's eyes widened. "Good" As a cultured individual , he knew exactly what this was, But in this world? It seemed almost too good to be true. "i wonder if i can get the whole Monarch powers, so far it's good, and it turned out that i can actually fight" He groaned, already dreading the effort it would take to master such an ability. but something about this system seemed odd. The screen still displayed the word Unawakened.
Aeron stared at the stats, the points available to distribute tempting him. "i have 12 Ability points. Where should I invest, though?" After a moment's consideration, he decided, "I think health and strength are a must in a world like this. I'll just split the points equally for now."
With a mental command, he allocated the points:
[AERON GRIM]
Job : Necromancer
Title : All-Knowing ( Instantly understand new concepts,+50% learning speed, Automatically identify items, creatures, and magic. )
Level : 5
Fatigue : 40
HP : 600 MP : 300
Strength : 24>30
Health : 14>20
Agility : 14
Intillegence : 14
Sense : 14
Available abbility points : 12 >0
Passive skill : Tenacity Level 1
Perception: +10 to Sense when analyzing or strategizing.
Job specific Skill : Shadow Extraction (20 Soldiers limit)
Unawakened skill.
Inventory:
Beggar Clothes
Steel Sword
Rusted Dagger
He sighed, feeling a bit more confident in his chances now. But before he could ponder further, something caught his eye. A movement beside him.
He turned his head, only to freeze in shock. Lying next to him, almost completely naked, was the barmaid he had spoken to earlier.
"What the fuck!" The words escaped his lips before he could stop them.
The girl stirred, blinking sleepily before focusing on him. A smile spread across her face. "Oh, Aeron, finally you're awake!" she exclaimed, sitting up quickly and straddling his legs, her movements causing the thin blanket to fall away.
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If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Shadow Monarch in DC
AND
If you wish to read more or simply support me than check out my patreon at
"https://www.patreon.com/FrenzyAren"