Every extra step in the process cost time.
And time is money, friend.
With his own armor as a reference, Aldric skipped the design phase. He simply adjusted the measurements for Kevin's build and started working.
Driven by the desire to arm his student quickly, Aldric began hammering the first plate of the "Lightbringer (Replica)" breastplate.
For the next few days, except for his shifts at the Wolf's Kiss, Aldric spent all his time with Kevin by the river forge, meticulously crafting the armor.
Meanwhile, word of mouth continued to spread. The number of visitors to the blacksmith's courtyard to see the spider corpse didn't decrease; it stayed above seventy or eighty a day.
One afternoon, messy hoofbeats echoed in the alley. A middle-aged noble led a dozen retainers and several teenagers on tall horses to the courtyard gate.
The noble had an imposing presence. Dark brown hair framed a long, solemn face, and his grey eyes were piercing.
He raised his riding crop, pointing at the gate. "Haywar, is the giant spider you mentioned in there?"
In the Winterfell area, besides Brother John and the Silver Hand five, the person most familiar with the spider was Haywar, the Lord's guard who went to Rabbit's Paw.
Hearing the question, Haywar rode up, peeked inside, and reported, "This is it, My Lord Lord. I watched them drag this giant spider out of the Wolfswood on a wooden sled."
"After days of baking in the sun at Rabbit's Paw, the stench covered the whole village. I wanted to cut off my nose—I'll remember that smell even when I die."
Eddard Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, dismounted and pushed open the courtyard gate.
Since the crowds began growing, to promote the glory of the Seven, John (on Rennel's recommendation) had ordered a new grey septon's robe from the market.
Though still grey, it lacked patches and holes, instantly elevating Brother John's aura by several floors.
Seeing a noble enter, John paused only a moment before stepping down from his preaching platform. He bowed.
"Respected Lord, how may I serve you?"
Lord Eddard saw the hammer pendant on John's chest. "You are a Septon of the Seven?"
John nodded. "Yes. I am John, sworn to serve the Smith. It has been ten years, and I have not slacked for a single day."
Eddard nodded. "Few Septons are willing to come to Winterfell. Where are you from?"
"I am from St. Morel's Sept by the Gods Eye in the Riverlands, My Lord."
" The Riverlands... Catelyn would probably like to see a Septon from her homeland."
The Lord thought for a moment. "Septon John, may I invite you to Winterfell tomorrow to pray for my wife?"
John had guessed the noble's identity but dared not confirm. "You are?"
Haywar, half a step behind the Lord, quickly stepped forward. "This is the Lord of Winterfell, Ruler of the North, Lord Eddard Stark."
"Of course!"
John bowed again. "I am willing to pray to the merciful Seven for the Duchess."
The Lord nodded and ignored him, walking to the spider corpse. He took off a glove and gently stroked the shiny black shell.
Then he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the faintly smelly dust from his fingers.
A seven-or-eight-year-old boy holding a puppy walked up behind the Lord and asked timidly, "Father, is this the Ice Spider Old Nan talks about?"
"Don't get too close, Bran."
The Lord blocked his son with his body. "Ice Spiders are just Old Nan's stories..."
Bran craned his neck to look at the hideous spider again. "But Old Nan said the White Walkers wave swords made of ice and ride giant Ice Spiders over the Wall to kill everyone they see."
"Bran, Old Nan's stories only happen during the Long Night. It is summer now."
A sturdy teenager walked over, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Old Nan also said Ice Spiders have blue shells. But look, this one is black, right?"
Bran was unconvinced. "But..."
A slightly slender teenager who looked seven-parts like the Lord interrupted. "Bran, I heard that story too. It definitely said blue."
Theon Greyjoy, lurking in the group, seemed to deliberately contradict the slender boy. "Haywar told me when he came back from Rabbit's Paw that this spider was grey when it was alive. Sometimes, grey and blue aren't so easy to tell apart."
Hearing this, the sturdy boy turned. "Haywar, is that true?"
Haywar didn't want to get involved in the young masters' squabble. "I don't remember clearly. I was busy training militia for Commander Ander; I didn't pay attention to such messy things."
The Lord stopped the bickering. "Enough. Ice Spider or Fire Spider, it is dead. Killed by our Northern warriors. That is enough."
"Whether it is White Walkers, Wildlings, or anything else, no one can defeat House Stark, the descendants of the First Men."
"We went out today to execute an oathbreaker. Visiting the spider was just on the way."
"Task done, spider seen. Time to go home and have dinner with your mother. Let's go, children."
The Lord left the courtyard first and mounted his horse.
Little Bran looked at his father's back, then at the Ice Spider's shell. He wanted to stay longer, but the slender teenager lifted him onto his pony. "Let's go back. Father is already far ahead. Next time, I'll bring you here alone."
"Will you bring Arya, Jon?"
"If Arya wants to come."
"She definitely will! I'll go tell her!"
Then Jon Snow chased after his father with his little brother.
Only Theon Greyjoy and the sturdy teenager remained in the yard.
Seeing the teenager gripping his sword hilt, staring dead at the spider corpse without moving, Theon reminded him, "Robb, not leaving? Your father and brothers are far away."
"Winter is Coming. That is my family's motto, Theon."
Robb whispered, "Today in the wilderness we found a dead Direwolf. Now we see a legendary Ice Spider."
"These things haven't appeared near Winterfell since I can remember. If winter comes and these things are everywhere, what will my people do?"
"Let your father worry about that. You aren't the Lord of Winterfell yet."
Robb took a deep look at the giant spider, threw a Silver Moon into the donation box, and turned to leave.
Finally, only Theon Greyjoy was left.
Seeing no one else, he grinned mockingly and said to Brother John, "Septon, tell Captain Lewie that Theon Greyjoy still has a score to settle with him."
That night, when Aldric returned with the finished armor plates, John conveyed Theon's message.
Aldric didn't care. As Howard said, Greyjoy had no real power. As long as Aldric acted legally, Theon couldn't touch him.
Instead, Aldric was very interested in the Lord's visit.
"So, the Lord knows my name now?"
"Not really," John shook his head. "I never heard the Lord mention your name. But I know the name of this thing now. It's called an Ice Spider. Legend says it's the mount of the White Walkers."
White Walkers?
Hearing the term for the first time, Aldric was puzzled. "White Walkers? What are those?"
"You don't know? Oh right, you're from the East. They are monsters from north of the Wall. I can't explain clearly. Ask Rennel when he gets back. He knows these stories best."
After dinner, Aldric waited for Rennel in the main room. As soon as the bard returned, Aldric asked.
Rennel sat comfortably on the bench and answered. "White Walkers... the ultimate villains of Westerosi mythology."
"In ancient legends, the Others (White Walkers) are an intelligent humanoid race living north of the Wall. They have blue eyes and tall, strong bodies. No one knows their origin, but their powers are mysterious and dangerous. The Night's Watch considers them the evil force threatening Westeros."
"There was a winter that lasted a generation, called the Long Night. In that long darkness, the White Walkers first descended. That was about 8,000 years before Aegon's Conquest."
"Eventually, the Night's Watch drove them back, and the Wall was built to keep them out."
"Since then, there haven't been any sightings for thousands of years."
"So White Walkers became scary stories for children."
"In some stories, White Walkers can resurrect dead creatures to serve them. They ride dead animals—bears, direwolves, mammoths, horses. They can also resurrect dead people."
"The dead resurrected by White Walkers are called 'Wights'. They appear with cold winds, wielding their weapons from life, killing all their loved ones... What's wrong with you?"
Rennel stopped. He realized Aldric—always calm, never knowing fear—was trembling.
"No way. Our invincible Commander Lewie is shaking from a bedtime story?"
Aldric wiped cold sweat from his forehead, forcing a smile. "Haha... ha. Do you think I'm a child? Haha... haha... My stomach hurts. I... I need to go to the bathroom."
The courtyard had no toilet. To keep it clean, they went to the woods outside.
Aldric propped his trembling body against a tree, gasping for breath.
Motherfucker. So the "threat from the North" is the Scourge?
Ice-blue eyes. Frost magic. Controlling the dead to fight. If that's not a Death Knight, I'll write my name backward!
I was wondering what kind of apocalypse it was. Why didn't they send an Archmage, an Archdruid, or a Master Hunter? Why a Paladin?
Because it's the fucking Undead Scourge! It's a professional match!
Aldric had fought his way through Warcraft 3 and raided the Lich King before transmigrating. He knew the horror of the Scourge.
Azeroth had higher technology and magic than Westeros, yet half the Eastern Kingdoms, two powerful human nations, and the entire Order of the Silver Hand were destroyed.
If not for Illidan Stormrage attacking the Frozen Throne distracting Arthas, Stormwind might have fallen too.
You mastermind... you didn't give me a mana bar, yet you expect me to save this world from the Scourge? You overestimate me...
Aldric looked up at the sky, speechless.
"Teacher... is that you?"
Kevin's voice came from the bushes, sounding nervous.
"Why are you here?"
Kevin, back turned, handed over some coarse paper. "Rennel said your stomach hurt but you didn't bring paper... told me to bring it."
"...Thanks."
Aldric grabbed the paper, wiped his nose, and threw it into the bushes.
Walking back, Aldric asked, "Kevin, if... I mean if... the legendary White Walkers are real and sweep across the continent, what would you do?"
Kevin looked at his teacher, confused. "Teacher, White Walkers are stories for kids. I'm almost an adult."
"Just answer. I said if."
"If they are real," Kevin thought, "then we pick up swords and fight them. What else?"
"Not consider fleeing to Essos?"
Kevin curled his lip. "Run without fighting? No. Men of the Fingers don't do that."
"And if that day comes, there won't be enough ships to take everyone. People surviving the White Walkers would kill each other for spots on the boats. I can't guarantee I'd be the one to survive and escape."
"Better to die fighting the White Walkers than die at the hands of the living."
Aldric was silent for a moment. "You think clearly."
"Hehe. My father once told me: a soldier on the battlefield shouldn't expect to survive."
"Only those unafraid of death survive. Cowards die fastest. How's that answer, Teacher?"
Aldric feigned a gratified expression and punched Kevin's shoulder lightly. "Good. I'm satisfied. That's my student."
After Kevin washed up and went to sleep, Aldric sat alone in the dark cottage.
After a long time, he laughed.
What's wrong with me?
Scared shaking by a grandmother's ghost story? Disgraceful.
There are no White Walkers or Wights in this world, right...?
Aldric tried to deceive himself.