The hall smelled of smoke and pinewood. His father's voice, deep and rumbling, carried like thunder.
"We bent to no dragon," Lord Harwyn declared, slamming his fist against the table. "And as long as I draw breath, we never shall."
William sat in silence, pretending to be the dutiful son, but inside? He was laughing. Of course I'd end up here. The one house too stubborn to kneel.
But his house still had very good ties with House Targaryen, especially his father and king Viserys as they were close friends.
But everything has to come to an end.
A fever swept through the keep when William was seven. His father — that immovable mountain of a man — withered in bed, sweat-soaked and shivering. No amount of prayers or leeches could save him.
By the second moon, Lord Harwyn was gone.
William, small and untested, stood by the pyre as flames consumed the body of the last lord of House Duskbane.
The System, stirred.
> [Main Quest Accepted: Rise as Lord of House Duskbane.]
Objective: Strengthen your body. Secure loyalty. Survive.
Reward: Title — Young Lord.
Failure: Death.
William grit his teeth.
'Yeah, thanks for the reminder, asshole.'
He wasn't alone, though.
Alfred remained. The family's butler, tall and lean, with silver hair combed perfectly back.
"Your father left you enemies," Alfred said one evening, placing a wooden practice sword in William's small hands. "And enemies strike when you are weakest. Which means you must be strong now."
William then thought 'Finally. I was wondering when the training would start.'
"Let's get to work then." William said.