Winterfell.
Ned's second son, Bran Stark, once again dreamed of a three-eyed raven. His "wolf spirit" trait was gradually awakening. Just as certain members of House Targaryen possessed true dragon blood, some members of House Stark were born with the wolf spirit.
.
"So this is the famous direwolf?" Lynn sighed in amazement.
He looked at the purchasable options under the Rally tab in the troop-spawning system's shop.
Direwolves, black bears, even tiny adorable pets of true dragons—
It left him completely stunned.
Lynn's eyes burned with excitement, but without a wolf spirit constitution or true dragon bloodline, he didn't know whether it was possible to raise his own magical beast from a young age.
The head of the guards, Hood, walked over.
Lynn exited the system.
He saw Hood squatting down, one hand resting on the head of the small black dog lazily lying on the ground, ruffling its fur—just like he was ruffling the clump of hair on his own head that clearly hadn't been washed in a long time.
"You should wash your hair," Lynn said, looking at his filthy hair with some discomfort.
"Uh… yes, my lord." Hood froze for a moment, then replied awkwardly. "I'll go wash up after I finish my report."
Seeing the head guard like this, Lynn knew that getting everyone to pay attention to hygiene would take time. He turned his head and asked, "Those White Harbor people left with the goods?"
Hood squatted down again and patted the small black dog lying lazily on the ground, then stood up and handed over a pouch filled with silver stags.
"My lord, those knights have left. They said they're heading to the next small town."
Lynn nodded, weighed the pouch of silver stags in his hand, then casually tucked it into his clothes.
Those guys had taken away half of his loot with just fifty silver stags. Even though it saved him from taxes and corvée labor, Lynn still felt displeased.
Prices here were roughly one grilled sausage and a mug of ale for one copper penny. One silver stag equaled fifty-six copper pennies. Based on current prices, one copper penny was about five yuan, meaning one silver stag was around two hundred eighty yuan. One gold dragon was two hundred ten silver stags. Fifty silver stags were only about fourteen thousand—no matter how frugal you were, it still wasn't enough.
Thinking of this, he remembered that he still had a special profession draw card he hadn't used yet.
Maybe he could draw a steward—someone to help manage finances would be nice.
As the two were talking—
A servant walked over, carrying a tray with two cups of wine.
Lynn sat down on a long bench in the manor and took a cup from the servant.
After taking a sip, he looked at Hood with confusion and said, "Why use such lousy wine at the midday feast? That stuff tastes awful and burns the throat."
The head guard Hood smiled.
"My lord is generous. Having even rough wine is already good. Fine malt ale in White Harbor can sell for as much as five copper pennies per cup."
That expensive?
Hearing this, Lynn's eyes lit up. He felt he should find a long-term money-making channel for his pay-to-win system.
After all, rich wild bosses like Sid the pirate of Bite Bay were rare and hard to come by.
Looking at the wine cup, Lynn turned to Hood. "Is the malt ale in our manor brewed by ourselves?"
Hood shook his head with a bitter smile. "No, my lord. You may not know this, but people of the North love to drink, yet they aren't good at brewing. Most Northern wines are rough or inferior—bitter and hard to swallow."
Lynn picked up a roasted onion dripping with brown gravy from the platter held by a nearby servant and bit into it. A crisp crunch echoed softly.
He smiled, a faint joy blooming at the corners of his eyes.
After once again thanking Lynn for his generous hospitality, Hood went off to patrol the territory for him. Aside from the castle, he also had to lead his attendants to patrol several nearby sandy forest areas.
Some nearby refugees always liked to recklessly cut down trees in the forests of the territory, and even hunt wild animals.
Hood could not tolerate this.
Within the domain of the Fishing Village Port, everything should belong to Lord Lynn.
When it came to protecting the territory, Head Guard Hood could be said to be extremely competent.
As for the appearance of the troop-spawning corps and their stationing at Fishing Village Port—
The simple local residents didn't feel much about it.
However, for people like Old Maester Hill and Head Guard Hood, who knew a bit of the inside story, Lynn claimed that he had a relative who was a great lord in the Kingdom of Dorne, far to the south of the continent.
These reinforcements were hired through that connection, and in the future, even more troop-spawning corps would arrive by sea.
As for why he needed reinforcements from this so-called great lord relative—
Lynn deliberately acted mysterious and evasive.
Old Maester Hill believed this to be the composure a lord should have after maturing, and it perfectly confirmed the ambition he had seen between Lynn's brows.
Hood didn't care about this at all. He was a typical Westerosi commoner knight who knew that strictly keeping to one's duty and maintaining loyalty was the way to survive.
Before obtaining the treasure of Sid, the pirate of the Three Sisters Islands, there was only so much Lynn could do.
Lynn walked into the study, closed the door, and told the servants not to disturb him for the time being.
[Welcome, Host, to the Troop-Spawning System!]
Lynn activated the system.
After browsing through the various magical beasts in the shop's rally section, he shifted his gaze to the troop-spawning infirmary menu.
At level one, the troop-spawning system only unlocked a single icon in the infirmary section.
[Troop-Spawning Female Medic Soldier: equipped with a surgical scalpel, capable of treating any externally injured soldier. Limited to troop-spawned units only.]
[Required points: 5]
Lynn smiled bitterly. Five points meant an investment of half a gold dragon, or one hundred forty silver stags—something he simply couldn't afford right now.
He then opened his inventory. Inside, a golden card pack lay quietly.
First recharge gift pack reward—Special Profession Random Draw Card.
Skirmisher, Traveler, Steward, Assassin, Gladiator Swordsman—one chosen at random.
Lynn smiled faintly. Aside from Traveler, which seemed rather useless, the others all looked pretty good.
With only a one-in-five chance to fail, Lynn felt that at least he had this much luck.
He clicked to open it.
The system transmitted a pleasant notification sound.
[System drawing in progress. Please wait!]
Tiny stars sparkled in Lynn's eyes as he waited in anticipation.
Swordsman, skirmisher, or assassin? All of them sounded good.
A gladiator would also be acceptable.
The draw interface gradually stopped flashing.
A cheerful notification sound rang out!
[Congratulations, Host! You have obtained the special profession… Traveler ×1!]
What the hell, I—???
Lynn's eyes bulged as the smile frozen on his lips stiffened in midair.
Thank you for your support. If you have any suggestions or opinions, feel free to leave them in the book review section or in this chapter's comments!
(End of Chapter)