King Robert's robust voice echoed through the courtyard as he stood before his convoy, a blend of determination and camaraderie in his eyes.
"Men and women of the realm," he began, his tone carrying the weight of authority forged through battles won and alliances forged. "We set forth on a journey that leads us to the heart of the North, to Winterfell. A realm of honor, of strong hearts, and fierce loyalties."
"As we ride together, let us remember the bonds that tie us, the unity that strengthens us. Our journey speaks of more than mere distance covered; it speaks of alliances nurtured, of friendships kindled, and of challenges met with unwavering resolve."
He paused, letting his words resonate, a moment of connection shared with those who had pledged their allegiance to him.
A subtle smile curved his lips, a glint of camaraderie in his gaze.
"To those who guard our path, know that your duty is noble, your vigilance paramount. To those who share the road, let our spirits be unyielding, and let our unity be our strength"
He cast a knowing glance at his advisors and knights, each bearing their own roles in this grand expedition. "For the realm, for its future, we embark. Let our journey be a testament to our unity and a prelude to the legacy we shall shape together."
With a nod, he signaled the call to readiness, and the sounds of preparations filled the air — the clank of armor, the rustle of banners, the gentle whinnying of horses.
"To Winterfell we ride!" King Robert's voice boomed with a mixture of gravitas and excitement. "May our path be clear, our hearts steadfast, and our journey one that shall echo through the annals of history."
His words lingered, carried on the breeze, as the convoy began to move, a testament to the spirit of the king who led them — a king who valued loyalty, camaraderie, and the promise of adventure on the open road.
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As my ,,father's,, speech ended, everyone outside started loudly cheering and clapping.
Huh , the Fat King had some leadership skills after all.
Not that it did him much good in the end...
As I was saying , everybody was in a good mood , or at least pretended to be.
My "mother" though, was absolutely livid for some reason.
"What's so great about traveling to a frozen hellscape where savages rule the land?" She ,,whispered,, loud enough for all three of us to hear.
Huh , subtler manipulation than I would have expected from someone like her.
The kids seemed torn though, between agreeing with their mother or cheering along with the crowd outside.
In the end they remained quiet , with the same fake smiles on their faces as those they had when I boarded the carriage.
.
I had a small guess that Joffrey wasn't very keen on rules and regulations.
Otherwise, why would that maid come wake me up two hours earlier than needed ?
Most likely because my ,,special,, friend needed 2 more hours than the rest to get ready for an occasion like this one.
How sad...
Anyway , the carriage started moving and I pretended to drift into sleep.
My mother barely glanced at me when I entered the carriage and greeted her , lost as she was in the sorrow an unwanted marriage was causing her .
Tommen and Myrcella were completely quiet , smiling and staring at nothing in particular , looking more like dolls than human children.
Well , that's not creepy at all...
I knew from the show that they were more mentally stable than Joffrey, but considering how Tommen ended up...they were probably not much better .
As the caravan passed through the city , King Robert leading it while riding his steed , the people exited their homes to look at us and cheer.
That maid spewed lies when she told me the king wanted to leave before dawn to avoid crowds.
Gutsy...
It was the exact opposite.
King Robert wanted to be seen by the people, boosting his reputation.
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Good for you , fat king , good for you...
Now , as I was pretending to sleep in the carriage, I started trying to expand my soul perception beyond my mortal carcass.
I observed earlier that my soul perception was severely weakened compared to hell , even when not possessing a body , and almost non-existent when I did posses one .
This may be related to the fact that the world I was now a part of was more ,,tangible,, ,making my metaphysical soul powers less efective than inside a mythical place like Hell.
.
So my soul perception was a big bust.
But who decided that?
That my soul perception is worthless in this world...
Who decided that?
𝗜 𝗮𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀....
.
And so my training continued , because it never really stopped in the first place....
.
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---------------
Third person pov:
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Amid the mist-shrouded marshes of the Neck, Prince Joffrey's figure cut a striking silhouette against the overcast sky.
His sword, an extension of his will, danced through the air under the watchful gaze of Ser Barristan Selmy.
The aging knight, a paragon of chivalry and experience, observed with a mixture of pride and assessment as Joffrey's every movement demonstrated his commitment to mastering the art of swordsmanship.
Before them stood the hulking remnants of Moat Cailin, a sentinel of history rising from the marshes.
Its three dilapidated towers, connected by rickety wooden bridges, loomed like ancient guardians. The fortress had witnessed countless battles and shifts of power, and its worn stones bore the weight of Westeros' past.
The surrounding marshland, treacherous and unforgiving, lent an air of quiet isolation, enhancing the sense of history that clung to the fortress like a cloak.
As Joffrey's blade sliced through the air, the clash of metal resonated, a rhythmic cadence that echoed against the backdrop of Moat Cailin. His movements were controlled, each strike precise, a testament to the training he had undertaken under Ser Barristan's expert tutelage.
The older knight's eyes gleamed with approval, the knowledge that the prince's growing skill was a reflection of his own guidance.
As Joffrey and Ser Barristan continued their training, the prince's determination was palpable. The fortress of Moat Cailin, its towers a silent testament to the resilience of ages past, bore witness to a new chapter in the story of House Baratheon...
.
.
---------------
Negary pov :
.
As I continued to get my ass handed to me by the old swordmaster, I thought about my routine for the past month.
The very first thing I did was ask (read : order) ser Barristan to train me in swordsmanship.
I didn't pay any mind to my ,,mother,, while she told me that a more "youthful" master would be better for me *cough* my uncle/father *cough*.
Fuck off , bitch.
That inbred piece of trash didn't have shit on the old dude. That's like , the first rule of anime...old men are always op.
And of course there was the fact that Selmy kept training every night by himself while Jaime slacked off.
Anyway , the old man didn't voice any complains and started earnestly teaching me every time we stopped to rest.
I got the impression he wasn't expecting me to stick to it even after getting a few bruises from our first spar , and knowing how the original Joffrey used to handle pain , he would have probably been right.
I had a whole empty field of ducks to give about that though.
And so my routine started.
Most of the time while we were traveling, I left my flesh golem ,,sleep,, in the carriage while I practiced my soul perception and soul manipulation.
But Negary , how can you practice soul manipulation without souls ?
Well , it didn't exactly need souls per se , but soul energy.
I got the impression this ,,energy,, was the basis of magic , at least in this world .
My first argument....there was soul energy in the atmosphere.
It was quite similar to my own soul energy, but different at the same time.
I first discovered it after a week of soul perception training, when I finally managed to expand my range to half a meter.
And it was everywhere , even if in small quantities.
I had a theory that the world itself was ,,alive,, and leaking it's soul energy in the surroundings but whatever.
The point is that I could manipulate this energy almost as easily as my own , but that's all.
I couldn't do anything with it...
I tried chanting and vividly imagining the phenomenon I wanted to make into reality , but I didn't manage to produce even a few sparks.
Still , I'll keep on trying.
Because I'm nothing if not persistent.
Still , my progress on my soul related powers was slow and unsatisfactory.
Luckily, I had a few breakthroughs on the biological side of things.
The most important circumstance being that I haven't eaten or drank anything in the past two weeks...
I didn't even need to breathe anymore...
And I was right as rain.
My second theory proved to be corect , namely soul fuckery powering my mortal coil.
I couldn't call it soul fuckery anymore though, because I mostly understood the basics of how it worked.
And it went like this.
My soul produced residual energy for some reason.
My soul was bigger and stronger than a normal soul , so it produced more energy.
This energy was somehow turning into physical matter that was powering my metabolism...
Which did not make sense...at all.
The intricacies of the human body can't be summarized by "food = energy=fuel ->body work"
No, there were a lot of enzymes and coenzymes that worked together to make the chemical bonds of the required proteins that made more proteins that made up most of your cells.
And I didn't NEED. ANY. OF THAT.
SOMEHOW.
BECAUSE SOUL SCIENCE.
But the first rule of programming is... don't fix it if it works.
And it worked beautifully.
I was very careful to not accidentally kill myself by terminal dehydration or asphyxiation, but as time passed and my flesh golem didn't display any of the symptoms related to such problems, I just passively accepted that my flesh body was now self sufficient as long I spent a few hours wearing it every day.
Other benefits of my strong soul included a higher regeneration factor , not to the point of being visible to the naked eye , not by a long shot , but a scratch I made on my arm that should have healed after a week was gone in just two days.
Fuck you Deadpool, we'll see who has the strongest regeneration after I improve my soul a bit more!
(Deadpool)-"Fuck you too!"
What was that?
Probably the wind...
Anyway , I took control of my vegetative nervous system....at least in part.
There was a lot of information I suddenly needed to manage when I tried to assume complet control over each part of my body.
My glands needed to be told how many hormones to create.
The blood vessels needed to be told how to properly contract.
The heart needed to be manually controlled to keep on beating.
And a slew of other unconditioned reflexes that the conscious part of the brain is not supposed to have control over.
Suffice to say , I bailed right the fuck out.
While I could process information much faster than a normal human, again because of my lovely soul, this shit was in a league on its own.
So I limited myself co complete muscle control.
It was jarring, the need to coordinate about 600 muscles at the same time , and I honestly didn't bother with that either .
I just created a sort of mental switch that would release the unconscious limiters that prevent muscles to overexert and tear.
And boom , hysterical strength, baby!
I'm coming for you , Raian Kure !
I will only use a bit of this hysterical strength in the near future, to allow J01 to adapt , but after that...hehe...we'll see...
All in all , I liked my progress.
I wasn't satisfied , not by a long shot.
I still had the seven gods hanging above me as a sword of Damocles.
They were not existences I could fight right now .
Nor were the old gods , those worshiped by the children of the forest.
Nor was the three eyed Raven , with it's time fuckery.
And certainly not the Night fucking King.
.
I was still weak ...
.
I swung my training sword at Barristan.
.
I could be killed at any time...
.
The Kingsguard captain blocked with contemptuous ease born from decades of experience.
.
But who cares about that?
.
I released about 10 percent of my historical strength , feeling my muscles tightening , and swung again from a different direction.
.
All I can do is climb the mountain in front of me.
.
This second strike surprised the old swordmaster, not having expected my increase in strength, but his grip remained steady and with an upward strike, blew the training sword from my now weakened grip.
"Very well done , my Prince! The speed of your improvement leaves this old man baffled." the old knight said kindly ,to sweeten my loss mayhaps, but it wasn't needed.
I knew that failure wasn't the opposite of success, but part of it , just like I knew that I will always get back up and keep on climbing...
"Now , shall we get back to the caravan , my Prince?"
"Of course, set Barristan. Lead the way."
.
No matter how many times I fall....