"New functions are now available."
"Soul Absorption: Any life taken by you and your subordinate soldiers will leave behind a pure soul power."
"Soul Power: 0"
"Current Magic Fluctuation: Weak"
"Basic Magic Exchange List is as follows:"
"Magic Armor: Summons a transparent armor constructed from a force field around the body. In addition to deflecting magic attacks, its physical defense is similar to chainmail in the mundane world, providing strong protection against slashing and blunt force, but weak against piercing."
"Exchange Price: 10 units of Soul Power."
"Casting Conditions: 1 unit of Soul Power, three times daily."
"Burning Hand: Calls upon the power of fire, spewing a fan-shaped orange-red flame from the center of the palm, covering all areas within three meters in front, lasting for 5 seconds."
"Exchange Price: 10 units of Soul Power."
"Casting Conditions: 1 unit of Soul Power, three times daily."
"Enchanted Blade: Infuses elemental power onto cold blades and swords, increasing weapon power, damaging enemies created by magic, lasting for half an hour."
"Exchange Price: 10 units of Soul Power."
"Casting Conditions: 1 unit of Soul Power, five times daily."
Eddard didn't even have time to be surprised by the sudden appearance of the system when a small cavalry unit caught his attention.
The leader was Ser Cleos of House Frey, who grew up in Casterly Rock. He had a thin face, narrow chin, and very sparse brown hair. At this moment, his expression was both nervous and a little joyful.
Eddard knew him; after the battle in the Haunted Forest, he had visited the convoy escorting the prisoners to see the captured Lannisters. There was the Kingslayer, holding his head high; William Lannister, head bowed; and Cleos Frey, who kept muttering to himself and didn't seem very intelligent.
It seemed he was going to King's Landing to deliver a letter to that neurotic woman, Cersei. The letter, written by Robb Stark in the King's name, outlined peace terms: independence for the North and Riverlands, return of Eddard Stark's remains and sword, exchange for his two sisters, and measures to prevent renewed war.
To put it bluntly—it was wishful thinking.
If Eddard had possessed his current awareness earlier, he would've advised Robb to trade William Lannister and the two Frey relatives just for Sansa.
Just one.
The chance of success would still be low, but certainly better than asking for both girls.
Because Arya, that tough and clever little girl, had already escaped. She was likely somewhere near Harrenhal.
Should he send someone to retrieve her?
He immediately shook his head. Lannister raiders were running wild in that region. Trying to retrieve her now would be too dangerous.
Anyway, that girl was one of the true protagonists of House Stark. Her life was hard, but she could take care of herself.
In contrast, Robb Stark was in real danger. A single misstep and he could drag House Karstark into ruin.
"Let's go."
Watching the messenger party depart, Eddard turned his mount away from Riverrun and returned to the Karstark camp.
He planned to initiate a trial by combat among the prisoners to see if he could earn some Soul Power.
Although this wasn't a Northern custom, the Westerlands allowed it.
And it would be strictly voluntary—no coercion—to prevent Robb Stark from interfering under moral pretense.
He muttered about not being able to slaughter prisoners indiscriminately.
...
Since the red comet appeared, several interpretations had circulated in Riverrun.
Northern soldiers believed it was the fiery banner of vengeance for the Lord of Winterfell. Riverrun soldiers saw a blue-red trout in its tail, like the Tully sigil, symbolizing victory.
But Eddard knew it was simply the different colors of burning gases.
A fish? Really?
He wasn't in the mood to listen to such nonsense.
The Northern army was preparing for war. Lord Rickard had even left the godswood and taken over camp duties.
Burning, killing, looting in the Westerlands—Lord Karstark saw it as his sacred duty.
This gave Eddard an opportunity to slip away.
Using the excuse of needing to clear his head, Eddard obtained a few days' leave from his grumpy old man and quietly followed Theon Greyjoy, bringing Abel Qashtak and Dita Kalander along.
The Ironborn had found three merchant convoys with complicated personnel and plentiful goods to escort. In times like these, regular army protection was rare.
The silver stags Theon received covered all his road expenses.
Once they left Riverrun, Theon went wild, indulging himself with women nightly. One night, he and Patrick Mallister, heir of Seagard, even shared the same miller's wife.
For Eddard, it wasn't an ideal setup—unless he planned to kill Patrick too.
Which he didn't.
The three rode captured warhorses, wearing ragged leather armor and cloaks, carrying chipped longswords—posing as guards mixed into the convoy, waiting for a better opportunity.
The three merchant groups were independent; no one knew each other. As long as they were careful, their true identities would remain hidden.
After three days of travel, they reached Fairmarket.
Nestled near the Blue Fork River, blessed with a mild climate and rich resources, Fairmarket was a popular stopover for convoys traveling between Riverrun, Seagard, and the Twins.
Its shops flourished, especially taverns and entertainment spots.
Merchants, soldiers, mercenaries, and guards all sought wine and women. Without such indulgences, their feet would barely carry them onward.
As the sun set, Theon strolled alone down the cobblestone road, heading for the famed Tulip Tavern to "broaden his horizons."
He had planned to meet Patrick, but Lord Jason Mallister didn't want his son spending too much time with an Ironborn—especially in front of vassals and soldiers.
The Melister lands had long suffered from Ironborn raids; even their castle was built to withstand seaborne attacks.
The bell tower rang whenever longships appeared, warning the town to take shelter.
"Tsk."
Theon clicked his tongue. That bell had rung once in three hundred years—when his brother Rodrik died beneath Seagard.
"I don't get why those old nobles are so obsessed with ancient grudges."
Frustrated, he picked up his pace. Wine and women would ease his mind.
Then he saw her.
A stunning figure in the dusk—fiery red hair cascading over her shoulders, lips like roses, freckled nose, snow-white skin, and a beautiful blue gown.
Her sapphire-like eyes locked on Theon shyly, cheeks flushed.
One look and he was captivated.
This girl likes me!
He strode over, straightening his fine clothes.
"My beautiful lady, allow me to introduce myself. I am Theon Greyjoy of Winterfell, foster brother to the King in the North, heir to the King of the Iron Islands. May I have the honor of your name?"
The girl paused, then blushed deeper. She said nothing but extended a rose.
Shyness filled her eyes.
Theon didn't take the rose. He boldly took her delicate hand instead, marveling at its softness.
The girl didn't pull away. Instead, she giggled and tugged him toward a nearby courtyard.
Theon imagined her passionate sighs already.
"Clang"—the gate opened.
"Clang"—it shut.
Darkness.
Pain.
A crisp voice said, "This guy says he's the King's brother or heir to the Iron Islands. I'm raising the price. At least one golden dragon."
Then—nothing.
Dita Kalander, her face hidden by her cloak, eyed the woman. Her hand rested on her sword, the other inside her tunic. Her eyes turned to Eddard in the shadows.
"Pay or silence?"
"Give it to her," came the command. "Then tie her up and gag her."
Abel slapped the girl unconscious. She collapsed beside Theon. He tied them both up and shoved a sweaty handkerchief in her mouth.
Dita tucked a golden dragon into the girl's bosom.
"Drag him in," Eddard said. "Put her in the corner and keep watch."
Abel pulled Theon by the legs. Dita dragged the girl to the corner.
Inside, Eddard gazed at Theon with a smile.
He hadn't expected it to go so smoothly.
He'd prepared backup plans—if needed, he would've infiltrated the tavern and slain him outright.
But a single girl on a street had done the job.
Was she just that convincing—or was Theon that foolish?
Abel searched Theon's body, finding coin, jewelry, and letters. Then he dumped cold water on his head.
Theon woke with a groan.
"Do you know what you've done? I'm—"
"Slap!"
Eddard silenced him. "I know who you are. You're a prisoner now."
"Eddard Karstark?!"
Recognizing him, Theon stared, confused.
"What do you want?!"
"What do I want? I want you dead, your body vanished. With your whereabouts unknown, Balon Greyjoy might hesitate to invade the North. That hesitation will give me time—maybe even enough to save the two little wolves still in Winterfell."