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After swallowing the last piece of cheese on his plate, Robb couldn't help letting out a contented belch.
Fortunately, at that moment, only he and the maid standing beside the table remained. Otherwise, he would surely have earned a few more scoldings from Catelyn.
The second helping of dinner he had forced down a moment ago did not reward him with any Blood Pact Points.
That completely shattered his idea of grinding points just by eating.
Fine!
If he really could gain points that way, Robb would probably end up even fatter than King Robert Baratheon.
After dinner, it should have been time for his daily sword training. However, that day, he went straight back to his room.
Part of the reason was that his father, Eddard, had told him to rest for two days. The other part was that he himself wanted to recover properly.
The moment he entered the room, Robb immediately looked toward Bloodwind, who was sleeping soundly.
Blood-red letters appeared before his eyes in response to his thoughts.
Perhaps because of the Blood Pact Point he gained from dinner, the pup's three attributes now each displayed a small plus sign beside them.
Robb lowered his head and pondered for a moment. With a single thought, the number of Blood Pact Points in his vision disappeared.
A thin stream of red mist, as thick as a chopstick, rose from his body and flowed directly into Bloodwind's sleeping form.
Immediately afterward, the pup's Constitution attribute rose to 2!
That red mist… could that be a Blood Pact Point?
Robb lightly stroked the stubble on his chin as he made that guess.
Assuming he could gain 1 Blood Pact Point per day, he believed that at this rate of growth, in less than a month, Bloodwind's three attributes would be several times higher than those of his siblings.
As for why he had raised Constitution first, that had also been carefully considered.
To him, this world was real now. It was no longer like watching the story unfold from a god's-eye view.
There was no one in Winterfell who knew how to raise direwolves.
If Bloodwind were to die as a pup for any reason, it would be a fatal loss for him.
That was why, in the early stage, maximizing Constitution was the safest way to ensure Bloodwind survived to adulthood.
Agility and Strength could be increased later.
After assigning the points to Bloodwind, Robb suddenly felt a wave of heavy exhaustion sweep through his whole body.
He took two thick pieces of clothing from the wardrobe and spread them on the floor, then carefully picked up the pup and placed him there.
He didn't sleep in the same bed as Bloodwind because, back on Blue Star, he had a habit of tossing and turning in his sleep.
Now, he had to eliminate every possible chance of hurting the pup.
Ah… this feels amazing!
The large solid wooden bed covered in thick furs was incredibly soft. The moment Robb lay down, he felt as if he were sinking into a pile of cotton, and he couldn't help letting out a satisfied sigh.
My advantages…
First, I know the general course of the future and some of the important figures.
Second, Bloodwind, my true trump card.
Third, I am the eldest son of a noble bloodline in the North.
But… in the future, can I really stand against Tywin Lannister, so old and cunning, or Daenerys Targaryen with her three dragons?
Ah, right… there are still the wildlings beyond the Wall…
And in the end… the White Walkers…
Lying in bed, Robb reflected on his advantages and the enemies he would face in the future.
Perhaps because he was so exhausted, within just a few minutes, he fell into a deep sleep.
The next morning, Robb woke early, roused by his body's internal clock.
The moment he finished dressing and stepped down from the bed, Bloodwind had already bitten onto the hem of his pants, clearly conveying his hunger.
Well then! This guy is basically an emotionless eating machine.
Robb crouched down and patted the pup's fluffy head before heading out to prepare breakfast for him.
After some effort and finally making sure the little glutton was properly fed, Robb went to the washstand to clean himself up.
Without hesitation, he plunged his head into the basin of water prepared by the servant, shook it from side to side, then suddenly lifted his face.
In the mirror above the washstand, a young man with blue eyes, reddish-brown hair, and a sturdy build stared back at him.
Although Robb looked mature for his age, he possessed a heroic and handsome face, with a distinct charisma all his own.
"I am Robb Stark!"
After staring at the mirror for several minutes, looking at a face both strange and familiar, he silently murmured those words in his heart before drying his face with a towel and putting on his noble clothes.
The Stark family's breakfast was still as lavish as ever. Feeling the emptiness in his stomach, Robb began eating without the slightest restraint.
"Robb, you had two dinners last night. How are you still this hungry this morning?"
Eddard tossed a grape into his mouth as he asked with a puzzled expression.
"I don't know. Maybe I'm still growing, Father."
Hearing the question, Robb quickly swallowed the food in his mouth before answering.
"Father, maybe there's a nest of fat pigs living inside his belly, and all they know how to do is poop."
Hearing Robb's answer, Arya remembered what he had said the previous night and couldn't resist teasing him back.
"Arya, what kind of way is that to speak? You've already finished eating. Go find Septa Mordane and study today's lesson. Sansa, go with your sister."
Hearing Arya's words, Catelyn frowned and spoke.
"Yes, Mother."
The two sisters answered in unison.
Sansa, who had been dragged into it for no reason, shot Arya an irritated look. Then she gave her parents a graceful curtsey and left first.
Arya stuck out her tongue at Robb, pulled a face, and ran off.
"Robb, if you feel any discomfort in your body, remember to tell Maester Luwin."
Catelyn was still worried about his health.
"Yes, Mother."
After breakfast, Robb did not receive any Blood Pact Points. That didn't worry him, since dinner was still ahead.
Besides, he believed Blood Pact Points were not obtained only through eating.
The sudden exhaustion he had felt after raising Bloodwind's attributes the day before seemed a little abnormal.
For the remainder of the morning, he should have been doing his usual archery training. But just like sword practice, Eddard had given him leave, so he went straight back to his room to build intimacy with the pup.
About an hour later, a servant came to inform him that it was time to head to the audience hall.
As Winterfell's heir, accompanying Eddard in handling the territory's affairs was his duty and responsibility.
Of course, all decisions were in Eddard's hands. Normally, Robb merely watched and learned.
When Robb arrived at the audience hall, his father Eddard and Maester Luwin were already seated on the raised platform.
Captain of the guard Jory stood at the entrance with two fully armed soldiers, while the smallfolk stood waiting in line behind them.
As soon as Robb sat down to Eddard's left, the day's audience officially began.
In these peaceful years, most matters were petty trivialities. Old houses collapsing and asking for the lord's help, or one family's cattle wandering across the boundary and eating another family's grass.
Robb listened to it all with a heavy head and drooping eyelids.
After all, the laws of Westeros were severe. Even theft was considered a serious crime.
In some places, the punishment could be the loss of a hand or foot. In others, it was hanging or being sent to the Night's Watch.
Winterfell's population was simple, unlike the complexity of King's Landing. As a result, crimes were rare.
"Let me in! I have urgent business with the lord!"
A shout from outside the hall jolted Robb out of his drowsiness.
Eddard cast a glance at Jory, who immediately stepped outside. Soon after, a poorly dressed young man with bloodstains on his body was brought inside.
"My lord, I am…"
"Address him as Lord."
A young man about Robb's age had just begun speaking when Jory interrupted him, correcting his form of address.
"My Lord, I am a villager from Eastwood Village. Last night, during supper, a group of soldiers stormed into our village, burning, killing, and looting. Village Chief Wood ordered me to slip away in secret and ask for help."
"Roughly how many were there? What weapons did they use? Were they wearing armor? Did you see any sigil?"
Hearing that, Eddard frowned and began questioning him.
The questions left the young man momentarily confused. After thinking for a while, he answered hesitantly,
"Maybe fourteen or fifteen. Almost all of them wore leather armor. Most carried longswords and shields, and two or three had bows.
As for the sigil… ah, yes! One of them had a symbol on his shield, something like this."
The young man raised his hands and formed an "X".
"I believe he is referring to the flayed man, the sigil of House Bolton, Lord Eddard."
Hearing this, Maester Luwin turned to Eddard.
"House Bolton?
Maester Luwin, send a raven and ask House Bolton what is going on."
"Yes, I will go to the rookery at once."
Eddard thought for a moment before giving the order.
Then he turned to Robb.
"Robb, how are you feeling today?"
"There's nothing wrong, Father."
"Good. Then go back now and make your preparations. You will depart for the village. Jory will be waiting with twenty men at the East Gate."
"Yes!"
Robb agreed at once and rose to return to the main keep.
Watching his eldest son's retreating back, Eddard gave Jory a few instructions before continuing to deal with other matters.
Since the situation was urgent, Robb hurried back to his room, called for a servant, and explained how to feed Bloodwind.
Then he changed out of the noble clothes he had worn to the audience and into an outfit with leather armor underneath.
While he was gearing up, Jon and Theon appeared together. Apparently, they had heard the news and wanted to come along as well.
Jon was exceptionally skilled with a sword, and Theon was an excellent archer. With the two of them, it would be safer.
Robb thought for a moment and agreed immediately.
Adding two more people shouldn't be a problem. He believed his father would certainly agree. And in the worst-case scenario, he could simply replace two of the soldiers in Jory's party.
The three crossed the bridge north of the main keep and headed straight for the armory.
Standard mail, finely forged longswords, longbows, short blades, and daggers were all readily available.
The three helped one another into the standard mail commonly used in the North. After taking their weapons, they mounted the warhorses of Winterfell brought over by the stable servants.
With an imposing air, they rode toward the East Gate.
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