He gave the floating screen a side glance, noting his Current Balance of 4,224 MP. With Robb and Theon Greyjoy effectively out of his way, Winterfell was almost entirely within his grasp.
However, one significant obstacle remained: Catelyn Stark. He knew she would be returning soon, and he couldn't be certain how she would react to finding a ward in command of her home and her son in a supernatural stupor.
Alaric turned his attention back to the giants standing at the entrance. "Take him," he commanded, gesturing to Theon.
The Blood Knights moved together like a pack on a hunt. Two of the seven-foot giants grabbed Theon by his arms. Their grip felt like iron, forcing him to his knees before they hauled him toward the dungeons.
Theon tried to shout, but the words caught in his throat. The knights dragged him out of the hall, their heavy black-and-red armor thudding against the stone floor with every step.
Alaric looked at the remaining Stark guards, Maester Luwin, and Ser Rodrik, his gaze heavy with the authority of the Shadow Regent. He allowed the silence to stretch until the only sound was the crackle of the hearth.
"I have lived among you as a ward, but I speak to you now as the shield Lord Eddard placed in front of his family," Alaric began, his voice projecting through the Great Hall. "What you saw happend to Robb was just the start. In the capital, the Lannisters have already made their move. Jaime Lannister attacked Lord Eddard in the streets of King's Landing. There is Stark blood on the stones."
He walked to the center of the hall, where the gold lay on the floor. "Winter isn't coming anymore—it's here. War is at our gates. The South thinks we're weak because Lord Eddard is gone and Robb won't wake up."
He stopped and looked at every man in the room. "They're wrong. We aren't going to sit here and wait for them to burn our crops or kidnap our kids. We're going to work. We'll make more swords, double the guards, and turn Winterfell into a wall the Lannisters can't climb."
"If you care about your homes or the Starks, do exactly what that letter says," he said. "We stand together, or we die one by one."
Ser Rodrik slowly sheathed his sword, his face set in a grim mask of duty. The guards followed suit, their initial fear replaced by a desperate, patriotic resolve.
Alaric turned to Dae, who remained in the corner of the room. "Maester Luwin, take Robb to his room. Dae will guard the door. No one enters unless I say so".
As the hall cleared, Alaric walked toward the high table. He had secured the walls, but the arrival of Catelyn Stark would be his true test. He needed to be ready for her, and for the mission the System had already teased: The Matriarch's Submission.
...
The week after Alaric took the Great Hall was filled with the sound of hammers on metal and the cold bite of the wind. He spent his days watching the forges and lining the river with extra guards, making sure his version of "orders" was carried out. Under the watchful eyes of the Blood Knights, the men trained until they couldn't stand.
On the seventh day, Alaric sat in the guest wing with Bran Stark. In this timeline, Alaric had caught the boy mid-air. There was no eighty-foot fall and no broken legs. Bran was physically fine, but he stayed quiet, keeping Alaric's secrets while he recovered his strength.
A servant walked in and bowed. She set a tray on the table with a silver cup of warm honey tea. As Bran reached out to take it, Alaric felt a sharp jolt in his chest.
"Wait," Alaric said.
Alaric took the cup from Bran. He swirled the tea and saw an oily film on the surface. It didn't look like honey. Without saying a word to the confused boy, Alaric lifted the cup and drank.
It tasted bitter, like metal. The liquid felt heavy, like lead sliding down his throat.
It was a strong poison, enough to kill a child in seconds. Alaric didn't fall. Instead, his Venom-Purge ability kicked in. The system neutralized the toxin before it hit his blood. He set the cup back down on the table, the tingling in his throat already fading.
Alaric leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. The room stayed quiet.
He ran the facts through his head. First, the assassin with the Valyrian steel dagger. Now, this poison.
It didn't make sense. In this timeline, the Lannisters were obsessed with him. He was the one shaking up the North and changing the game. Bran was just a kid who hadn't said a word about what he saw in the tower. The Lannisters should be putting all their energy into killing Alaric, not wasting time and resources on a boy who wasn't even a threat yet.