Chapter 38:
The Land of Always Winter, where the smoke of battle had not yet fully dissipated, and the biting cold wind still howled.
Although the Night King was dead, the joy of victory lasted less than half an hour.
Because beside that massive crater, the atmosphere was now even more tense than when they had faced the Others.
Three factions stood clearly divided.
On the left were the Northern alliance and wildling forces led by Sansa Stark. Although their equipment was crude, they had just survived a bloody battle, their killing intent was surging, and they held the terrain advantage.
On the right were Daenerys Targaryen's Unsullied and Dothraki riders. Although Drogon was injured, the massive beast still crouched behind the queen, issuing threatening low growls at the Northerners.
In the middle was Victor's Pompey Industrial Legion.
"Lord Pompey."
Daenerys was the first to break the silence. She stroked Drogon's injured wing, her purple eyes flashing with queenly authority.
"The Night King is dead. Our alliance has fulfilled half of its purpose."
"Now, shouldn't we discuss what you also promised me — the ownership of the Iron Throne?"
Sansa let out a cold laugh and slammed her wolf-head scepter on the ground. "Targaryen, this is the North. Our warriors shed their blood not so you could sit on that broken chair. The North will never kneel!"
"What did you say?!" Grey Worm raised his spear, and the Unsullied formation instantly locked into battle stance.
"Want to fight?!" Jon Snow, though reluctant to start a civil war, instinctively stepped in front of his sister, Longclaw drawn.
The smell of gunpowder instantly filled the air.
Allies who had just fought side by side were now ready to draw blades against each other. This was true human nature.
"Enough!"
A thunderous shout interrupted the confrontation.
Victor Pompey played with the [Frost God Fragment] (emitting a faint blue glow) in his hand and casually walked between the two armies.
"The Night King has just died, his bones not yet cold, and you're already fighting over the spoils?"
Victor looked coldly at Daenerys. "Your Grace, your dragon is injured and half your Unsullied have frozen to death. Are you sure you want to start a war with the North, which has cannons and home-field advantage?"
He then turned to Sansa. "And you, Sansa. Without the dragons' aerial support, do you think the damaged Wall can hold back Cersei and the Golden Company's counterattack?"
Both women fell silent.
Victor was telling the truth. This was a pyrrhic victory. No one had the capital to turn on each other immediately.
"Then what do you suggest?" Daenerys bit her lip, staring at Victor.
"Simple."
Victor put the Frost God Fragment back into his system space and revealed his trademark merchant's smile.
"Although the battle is over, the accounts haven't been settled yet."
"My gunpowder, my food, my pensions… this is an astronomical sum."
Victor pointed south.
"Let's return to Winterfell first. Since everyone believes they are right, let's speak with chips on the negotiation table."
"Besides…" Victor lowered his voice meaningfully, "in this world, we are not the only ones eyeing the Iron Throne."
…
At the same time, thousands of miles away.
Oldtown, the Hightower.
This tallest building in Westeros, the holy land of the maesters, was now shrouded in a strange atmosphere.
In the Grand Maester's meeting chamber at the top, several glass candles burned with ominous green flames.
An elderly Grand Maester in gray robes, his face covered in age spots, held a raven message tube that had just arrived.
"The Night King is dead."
The Grand Maester's voice was hoarse and gloomy. "That variable called Victor Pompey used a kind of 'alchemy' we cannot understand to kill the Frost God."
"Impossible!" Another maester slammed the table. "That kind of power… defies physical laws! It is blasphemy! If we do not stop him, his threat to the world is greater than the Others!"
"Magic is reviving, gentlemen."
Archmaester Marwyn, who studied the occult, said darkly, "Dragons have awakened, the Others have appeared, and now there is a Pompey who controls 'thunder.' The Citadel's centuries-long effort to build a 'rational world without magic' is about to be destroyed."
The Grand Maester walked to the window and looked down at the prosperous harbor of Oldtown.
There, a fleet flying the golden kraken banner was docking. It was the fleet of the madman Euron Greyjoy.
"We cannot sit idly by."
The Grand Maester turned around, a ruthless glint in his eyes.
"Activate the 'Grey Sheep Plan.'"
"Contact Queen Regent Cersei, the Faith, and Euron."
"We must strike at this 'god-slayer' Victor Pompey when he is at his most triumphant… and let him know that knowledge (conspiracy) is the true power."
"Also…"
The Grand Maester pulled out a strangely shaped Valyrian steel dagger emitting black energy from his sleeve.
"Send a Faceless Man to the North."
"Since we cannot kill the dragons, we will kill the one who raises them."
…
Back in the North, Winterfell.
The victory banquet had a very strange atmosphere.
On the surface, there was laughter and clinking cups.
In reality, legs were kicking each other under the table.
Victor sat in the main seat. On his left, Sansa poured wine for him (asserting her claim). On his right, Daenerys cut meat for him (unwilling to yield).
Tyrion watched from the side, sweating coldly, and whispered to Bronn, "I'd rather fight a giant alone than sit in that seat."
"System, open the [Empire Domination Mode] panel."
Victor enjoyed the blessings of two queens while checking the new functions in his mind.
[Empire Map: Current Control 30% (North and Riverlands).]
[Technologies to Unlock: Steamships, Telegraph, Basic Internal Combustion Engine, Penicillin.]
[Current Threat Level: (Citadel's conspiracy, deep-sea evil gods, shadowbinders in the eastern Shadow Lands).]
[Main Quest Updated: Unify Westeros!]
[Phase Goal 1: Settle the two women beside you and establish a stable political marriage (or a shared bed).]
[Phase Goal 2: March south to King's Landing and completely eliminate the remnants of the old era (Cersei, the Faith, the Citadel).]
Victor looked at the quest panel, the corners of his mouth slightly curling up.
Before, he fought for survival.
Now, he fought for conquest.
He raised his wine cup and looked at the various lords present.
"Gentlemen, don't just drink."
"The trouble in the north is solved, but the lion in the south (Cersei) and the octopus in the sea (Euron) still seem to be dreaming."
"Winter has passed."
Victor drained the cup in one gulp, his eyes burning with ambition hotter than dragonflame.
"Now, it's time to let this fire of industry burn across all of Westeros."
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