Early the next morning.
The tolling bells of the Sept of the Snows drifted down from the heights, carrying through the cold mist and sea breeze.
The Old Gods kept their silence, but the Seven spoke.
Don Quixote climbed out of bed feeling refreshed. Throwing on some simple clothes, he left his bedroom and stepped into the adjacent study.
Bam! He pushed the wooden door shut behind him.
[Employer: Rodney]
[Quest: Protect the fish merchant Rodney's caravan safely to Barrowton and safely back to White Harbor.]
[Reward:
276 Gold Dragons (Claimable)
Nightmare Bone (Claimable)]
"Claim!"
Don Quixote willed it.
Instantly, a heavy pile of gleaming new gold coins clattered softly onto the desk.
Beside them lay a skull no bigger than two fingers.
Don Quixote ignored the gold, his eyes locked in curiosity on the bizarre, palm-sized skull.
Its surface was a deeply oppressive, dark blue-black.
Like the abyss of the night, shining with the dull luster of something soaked in ancient malice.
It lacked the normal texture of bone.
Instead, it was covered in countless fine, spiraling, grotesque lines that seemed to writhe like living things.
Leaning in close.
He could see gray mist faintly swirling inside the bone.
Within the mist, countless faces seemed to be silently screaming, drowning, and begging.
But they vanished in a flash, as if it had all been an illusion.
"So this is the Nightmare Bone? It has a certain twisted beauty to it!"
Don Quixote reached out and grasped the skull, which felt as if it were forged from pure despair.
It was freezing to the touch—not just an ordinary cold.
As he turned the skull over in his hand, he carefully read the usage instructions that surfaced in his mind.
After a long while, realization dawned on him:
"It's not as overpowered as I thought!"
The dream-weaving function was fine.
As long as the target was asleep or in a deep trance.
He could lock onto their dreams and weave them from within fifteen feet.
But planting a Nightmare Heart came with a ton of restrictions.
The target had to endure one hundred nightmares of absolute despair, but they couldn't just sleep through them all at once.
They had to wake up after every single nightmare, or their mind would snap and they'd go completely insane.
Because of this, planting a Nightmare Heart in someone would take at least a hundred days.
This limitation meant Don Quixote had to be extremely picky with his targets.
He couldn't just use it recklessly whenever he pleased, like he had initially thought!
Furthermore, if the user lacked mental fortitude.
The resentment trapped in the bone would consume them instead, turning them into an empty shell.
Even though the system drastically reduced the mental toll the Nightmare Bone took on Don Quixote.
With his current mental strength, using it long-term could still be a heavy burden.
"Still, the effect of the Nightmare Heart is incredibly strong!"
Don Quixote wasn't too disappointed.
Since he couldn't build an army of suicide soldiers, he'd just pick a few powerful figures as targets.
Anyone implanted with a Nightmare Heart.
Would become a fanatical, utterly loyal Nightmare Disciple.
A Nightmare Disciple who would never dream again, their mind completely rebuilt from the ground up.
And the process was irreversible.
If this ability were dropped into another world, played right, it would be insanely useful.
But in the Game of Thrones universe, where betrayal was as common as eating breakfast, it was even better!
Sitting at his desk, Don Quixote set the Nightmare Bone aside, grabbed a piece of parchment, and started narrowing down his targets.
He closed his eyes for a moment, running through a preliminary list in his head, before slowly writing down names :
"Stannis Baratheon!
"Balon Greyjoy!
"Doran Martell!
"Renly Baratheon!
"Khal Drogo!
"Walder Frey!
"Varys!
"Roose Bolton!
"Wyman Manderly!
"Tywin Lannister!
"The rulers of the Nine Free Cities!
"The masters of Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen—the three great cities of Slaver's Bay!
"Qarth in eastern Essos, the merchant guilds of the City of Trade and Magic!"
After a second pass.
He stared at the names again—people who held real power, commanded armies, controlled intelligence, or massively impacted the plot.
Eventually, he crossed out quite a few.
Leaving only a handful of names he could target without much guilt:
"Balon Greyjoy!
"Lord of House Greyjoy, Lord Reaper of Pyke, Lord of the Iron Islands, and chief among the raiders.
"Roose Bolton!
"Lord of the Dreadfort, head of House Bolton, the quiet butcher.
"The ruling class of Astapor—the Good Masters!
"The southernmost city of Slaver's Bay, the sole source of Unsullied, famous for their bloody slave-soldier training.
"Ruled by an oligarchy of hundreds of slaver masters: cold, profit-driven, and obsessed with martial power.
"Their core industry is training absolutely obedient slave soldiers—the Unsullied.
"Along with all kinds of slave trade (bed slaves, craftsmen, scribes, tutors, field hands, etc.).
"The ruling class of Yunkai—the Wise Masters!
"The Yellow City, known for training bed slaves.
"They teach slaves the 'Seven Sighs' and the 'Sixteen Positions of Pleasure.'
"Their fighting pits are also famous.
"They export bed slaves, male prostitutes, gladiators, entertainment slaves, and worse.
"The ruling class of Meereen—the Great Masters!
"City of the Harpy, the largest, oldest, and most powerful city in Slaver's Bay, the true inheritors of ancient Ghiscari culture.
"Comprehensive slave trade (all types of labor slaves, warriors, and scholars)."
Gathering his thoughts, Don Quixote gave a complex, self-deprecating smile:
"Seems I'm really not cut out for this game of thrones!"
To him, Wyman Manderly, the ruler of White Harbor, was also a solid target for control.
After all, compared to the other people and places that only existed in his memory.
He was already living in White Harbor.
Even though he had zero clues on how to actually get close to Wyman Manderly, let alone plant a Nightmare Heart in him.
It would still probably be easier than reaching the others.
But his education from his past life, combined with the nearly ten years of knightly training from old Valentine in this life.
Had never taught him to be completely ruthless in getting what he wanted.
He always paid back his enemies.
And when it came to his foes, he wouldn't hold back; he'd crush them until they were completely destroyed!
But asking him to use underhanded methods to torture innocent people just to achieve a goal? He couldn't bring himself to do it.
Just reading the system's description of planting a Nightmare Heart was enough to know the process was absolute, pure despair.
He chose Balon Greyjoy and Roose Bolton because he already had bad blood with them.
During his wandering days with old Valentine, Balon Greyjoy's ironborn raiders had nearly gotten them killed.
And Roose Bolton went without saying—the blood feud over his parents in this life was something he could never forget.
As for the masters of the three Slaver's Bay cities, that was simple.
Torturing a bunch of human garbage didn't weigh heavily on his conscience at all.
As a storm of thoughts churned in his head, Don Quixote let out another self-deprecating laugh:
"I really want to play the saint and the devil at the same time.
"Not ruthless enough to be truly evil, not noble enough to be truly good.
"Ah, screw it. As long as I live this life happy and comfortable, that's enough."
...