"Ugh… what the hell happened to me?"
Waves of dizziness washed over Ethan, accompanied by the unpleasant sensation of acid rising in his stomach, crashing into his slowly awakening consciousness.
"Robb, Robb! How are you feeling? Can you stand up?"
A concerned voice sounded beside him. It definitely wasn't his native language, yet Ethan instantly understood what was being said.
What language is this?
And who is Robb?
Still confused, Ethan shook his head a few times, as if trying to shake off the nausea and vertigo.
The movement seemed to help. The dizziness quickly faded, and he slowly opened his eyes.
Standing in front of him was a young man with dark brown hair and a cold expression. His gray eyes were fixed on Ethan.
When he saw Ethan open his eyes, the young man tightened his grip on Ethan's shoulders and pulled him up from the cold ground covered in small stones.
"Robb, what just happened? Why did you suddenly faint?"
To Ethan's left, a boy around ten years old with brown hair asked softly.
Ethan still had no idea what was going on and didn't know how to respond.
"Hehehe… Robb, did you sneak out last night to see Ros? And then spend the whole night fighting?"
At that moment, a skinny young man with pale skin and a mischievous grin — the kind every man understood — walked over.
As he handed Ethan a leather waterskin taken from a horse, he teased him playfully.
"Shh, quiet! Look, Lord Eddard is about to begin."
The dark-haired young man frowned at the inappropriate remark in front of the boy and cut the conversation short.
Only then did Ethan finally have the chance to look around.
They were standing in a small valley covered with greenery and scattered stones. More than a dozen soldiers wearing shining armor stood along the higher ground of the valley, swords at their waists and banners in hand, forming a perimeter.
About five meters ahead of them was a slightly leveled stone platform.
Several tall, burly men stood upon it. Three of them wore black cloaks made from animal fur, clearly men of high status.
The man on the far left had a distinctive appearance. The gray hair at his temples had been tied beneath his chin, making it look almost like he had a gray beard.
To the right stood a middle-aged man with sharp eyes and a respectful posture. He held a large greatsword with a fur-covered scabbard in both hands.
At the center stood a stern-looking middle-aged man.
His face was long, his neatly trimmed beard already beginning to gray. Brown hair. Gray eyes.
Even without speaking, simply standing there, he radiated the natural authority of a ruler.
In front of them stood two soldiers wearing round helmets and standard armor.
They held a prisoner dressed in black, his face utterly exhausted, forcing his head against the groove of a blood-stained wooden stump.
The imposing man in the center gave a small nod toward the man on the right.
The man stepped forward respectfully and presented the greatsword.
Shing!
The blade slid out of its sheath with a cold gleam, the metallic sound echoing across the valley.
The man who brought the sword stepped back.
Holding the blade with both hands, the imposing man stood before the prisoner and spoke calmly.
"In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm…"
BOOM!
Seeing that scene and hearing those words of judgment, Ethan felt as if a bolt of lightning had struck his mind.
'This is… the opening scene of House Stark in Game of Thrones!'
'Last night I worked late… and now I transmigrated?'
'Isn't that a little ridiculous?'
While his mind was in complete chaos, the man had already reached the end of the sentence.
"I, Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, sentence you to die."
Swish!
Thud… thud…
Eddard Stark raised the sword and brought it down with precision.
The prisoner's head rolled across the ground like a ball.
Blood burst from the headless body, staining the dark wooden block even deeper red.
The brutal execution barely stirred Ethan.
It felt as though he were already used to such sights.
Seeing that Ethan appeared fine, the dark-haired young man — Jon Snow — released Ethan's shoulders and began walking toward the horses.
Turning slightly, he said gently to the boy who had watched the execution through clenched teeth:
"You did well, Bran."
"Tsk! If I hadn't gone to get water for Robb, I would have been the one handing Ice to Lord Eddard."
Theon Greyjoy grumbled with mild annoyance before following Jon.
"Brother, let's go."
Bran swallowed nervously and tugged lightly at Ethan's black cloak.
Brother…?
Suddenly, a massive flood of memories and information poured into Ethan's mind.
'I'm Ethan… an ordinary office worker from Earth.'
'But now… I'm Robb Stark.'
'Heir of Winterfell.'
'The future King in the North.'
'The greatest victim of the Red Wedding.'
Bran looked at Ethan with concern as he stood there blankly.
"Bran, do you understand why I had to kill him?"
At that moment, Eddard Stark walked over.
He glanced at Ethan, who was still holding the waterskin silently, before turning to his younger son.
"Because he deserted the Night's Watch."
Bran answered.
"And why did I carry out the sentence myself?"
"Because House Stark keeps its honor and follows the old traditions."
"That's right. The man who passes the sentence must swing the sword."
Eddard nodded.
"Bran, go ahead. I want to speak with Robb for a moment."
Watching Bran walk away, Eddard spoke in a teaching tone.
"Robb, I've told you before — training excessively won't make you stronger. It will only bring trouble."
"Even the strongest lone wolf cannot defeat a lion."
"The honor of House Stark has never rested on a single person. Only united — as family and as the people of the North — can we survive the coming winter."
"Stop training for a few days and get some rest. Next time something like this happens in our lands, you'll lead the capture and carry out the judgment."
"Yes, Father."
Robb replied respectfully.
Eddard looked at his eldest son, who was already nearly as tall as he was, and gave his shoulder a light pat before returning to the horses.
He never noticed the intense and determined look in his son's eyes behind him.
'I am Ethan from Earth… but I am also Robb Stark, heir to Winterfell.'
'This time… my fate will not end in tragedy.'
Glup!
Robb opened the waterskin and drank deeply, as if trying to extinguish the fire burning inside his chest.
The Stark party rode back in silence.
Eddard Stark led the group at the front without saying a word. There was a reason he had once been called the "Quiet Wolf" in his youth.
Behind him rode Winterfell's master-at-arms, Ser Rodrik Cassel, and the captain of the guard, Jory Cassel.
Jon and Bran rode side by side, quietly chatting.
Beside Robb was Theon, who continued complaining that Robb had sneaked out of the castle the night before without inviting him. According to him, they could have had far more fun.
Robb ignored every word.
Knowing he had only a few months to prepare, countless plans were already forming in his mind.
And just as many were being discarded.
After the fusion of the two souls, skills such as riding, archery, and swordsmanship were no longer an issue.
Robb had trained for more than a decade. Those abilities were already part of his body's memory.
But the North had been at peace for nine years.
Normally there were only bandits, scattered wildlings, or the occasional murderer.
Nothing that would allow Robb to build his own power base.
The guards of Winterfell and the bannermen of the North could only be summoned by his father, Eddard Stark.
Of course, in a few months, when his father would be imprisoned in King's Landing, Robb — acting as regent — would have that authority as well.
But simply waiting for fate to repeat itself was something the current Robb refused to accept.
Halfway through their journey back, near an old stone bridge, Theon — who had ridden ahead to scout — discovered the corpse of a large stag.
Under Eddard's lead, they soon found the body of a direwolf beneath the bridge… along with five small, fluffy direwolf pups.
After some discussion, Eddard followed Jon's suggestion and allowed the children to keep them.
Bran excitedly picked up the first pup and ran across the bridge.
Eddard watched his son with a faint smile before following.
Robb stepped forward and picked up the largest of the remaining four — a pup with smoky gray fur and yellow eyes.
''You were supposed to be called Grey Wind…''
''But now… you will be Bloodwind.''
Robb changed the name deliberately.
A reminder of the Red Wedding… and the fate he refused to repeat.
At that moment, a line of crimson text appeared before his eyes.
Low-tier extraordinary lifeform detected.
Initiate blood pact?
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