[MAIN MISSION: THE NORTHERN USURPER]
Objective: Take control of Winterfell.
Condition: Achieve dominance without triggering a major civil war or open military conflict.
Reward: 4,000 Monarch Points (MP).
"There it is," he thought, his eyes scanning the text. Taking the Stark stronghold without a drop of blood was a tall order, but it was exactly the kind of challenge he expected.
He didn't look surprised; a slow, knowing smirk spread across his face. He had traveled all the way back to Winterfell precisely because he knew the System would capitalize on the shifting power dynamics of the North.
[Sub Missions:
The Matriarch's Submission (Optional)
Objective: Secure a one-night stand with Catelyn Stark.
Condition: Must be achieved through manipulation, seduction, or creating a situation.
Reward: 2,000 MP, +15% Influence with House Tully.
The Kraken's Humiliation (Optional)
Objective: Publicly break Theon Greyjoy's spirit or reputation without drawing steel.
Reward: 1,000 MP.
Description: The heir to the Iron Islands is a thorn in the side of your dominance. Show the North that his "high birth" is a hollow shield against a true Monarch.
The Debt (Optional)
Objective: Save Bran Stark from the impending another assassination attempt.
Reward: 1,500 MP, Permanent "Favor" from the Catelyn Stark. ]
Alaric's eyes lingered on the first sub-mission, the text pulsing with that deep, crimson glow.
Secure a one-night stand with Catelyn Stark...
^_____^
He felt a momentary jolt of disbelief, his mind instinctively flashing to the image of the stoic, honorable Lady of Winterfell. Then, his thoughts drifted to the world he was currently inhabiting. This was a land where the Queen was bedding her own brother and where "honor" was often just a pretty shroud for the dead.
"A one-night stand with my future mother-in-law?" he thought, a dark, dry humor bubbling up in his chest.
He ran the numbers again. 2,000 Monarch Points. That was an astronomical payout for a single night's work, not to mention the leverage it would give him over House Tully.
He glanced toward the window where Roslin sat, her profile silhouetted against the grey sky. She looked so innocent, so fragile—the polar opposite of the calculating world the System wanted him to master.
"Well," he mused, his eyes returning to the glowing screen. "If the Targaryens can keep it in the family for three hundred years, and the Lannisters are doing it in the Red Keep... who am I to be the moral compass of Westeros?"
He knew Catelyn was a woman driven by duty and the desperate need to protect her children. If he could create a situation—a moment where he was the only shield between her family and total ruin—that "necessity" the System mentioned might just become a reality.
"I won't go hunting for her," he told himself. A slow smirk pulled at his lips as he swiped the screen away. "But 2,000 points is a lot to pass up. If fate puts her in my path and the opportunity is there... well, a Monarch takes what he needs to secure his throne."
He stared back up at the ceiling beams. "It's just one night, after all. Not much in the long run. And besides... Sansa won't ever know."
Alaric's gaze drifted back to the ceiling, his mind working through the math. If every piece fell into place, the payout would be staggering.
The main mission was worth 4,000, and the sub-missions added another 4,500. Combined with his current balance, he'd be sitting on nearly 14,000 Monarch Points.
With that much, he thought, taking King's Landing would be easy.
He dismissed the screen with a mental flick. The last two sub-missions felt like easy money compared to the mess with Catelyn Stark. Saving Bran was a matter of timing; he just needed to be in the right hallway at the right moment, play the hero, and collect the debt.
Humiliating Theon was more of a pleasure than a task. The boy was arrogant and desperate for respect. Breaking him wouldn't even require a sword—Alaric just had to pull the right strings and let Theon's pride do the rest.
"Simple enough," he mused. "He wants to be a king of the sea, but he can't even handle a conversation without tripping over his own ego."
"Well... let's start tomorrow," he whispered, his eyes finally drifting shut. "The start of the Usurper."
Sleep took him quickly, a heavy rest before the game for the North began in earnest.