There is definitely a case to be made about the therapeutic nature of riding a horse.

It’s a good thing that there was a benefit, because damn it could be boring. In my past life, marathon runners would always mention ‘runner high’, and how it kicks in after a certain amount of miles, enabling them to fall into a rhythm that allows them to keep running without stress.

This was nothing like that.

It was more like driving a car, on a road trip. Eventually, you just stop actively driving, and your mind drifts. You can only think for so long however. Especially when it takes your traveling party two weeks to get to it’s first castle. I was miserable.

“Raventree Hall.” Hoster Tully said with a grand gesture towards the castle in front of us.

I sat on my horse, towards the back of the ‘main party’. Hoster rode on his fine stallion in the front of the main party, with Edmure beside him. There were twenty knights surrounding him at any one time, with more dispersed throughout the rest of our traveling party. I sat at the back of that main party, doing my best to not be seen but observing everything around me.

This trip has made me realize how much of an outsider I really am in this world. Conversations were boring, and full of knights boasting of their ‘conquering’ of farmers' daughters, and serving wenches.

Nobody spoke of grain production. Nobody spoke of the yearly yield in the Riverlands. Nobody said a word of the bandits dominating the roads, robbing, and raping every poor merchant family that passed.

It was a travesty, honestly.

Hoster should have taken advantage of his traveling troupe of murderers, and personally led the knights at his disposal to clear the known bandit hideouts. He either didn’t care, or was too worried about his family to do such a thing.

I began to yearn for the upcoming war, which was a weird thing to admit. I needed independence, and merit to grant such a thing.

As I was on the road to Raventree Hall, I had come to a conclusion about my next steps. The first step was to find the Blackfish as fast as fucking possible, impress him enough to become his squire and fucking leave Riverrun.

My theory was that I would have a higher chance of meeting Robert Baratheon, Eddard Stark, and other important players in the coming war attached to the hip of the Blackfish. Knighthood would come, and then fame or death.

After the war, well I hadn’t gotten that far yet to be honest. Either take up residence at Castle Baelish, and do my best to build up the Fingers, or gain access to a bigger castle with more land. Either way, I would have to prepare for the white walkers after that.

Shit, then there is Balon’s rebellion, Robert's death and the war for succession that follows. And even Daenerys Targaryen with her fucking dragons!!

My presence was bound to change an innumerable amount of events, it would be impossible to navigate the possibilities. That’s why my plan was a simple one, that had one goal at this moment: Impress the Blackfish.

“Let us see what Lord Blackwood has in store for us!”

I rolled my eyes at Hoster. The more I was around the man, the more I lost respect for him. He was honestly a bit of an idiot in my opinion. Not to mention his children were fucking annoying, although Catelyn would grow into a somewhat useful wife in the future.

Horse moved forward as the knights in front of us started into the castle.

Just another week, or so, and I’ll be away from the Tully’s.

----------------------------------------

Raventree Hall was an interesting sight, to be honest. The Hall itself was fairly tall, almost four stories high if my eyes were to be believed. The walls were solid and well maintained. There were smallfolk bustling about the main road into the castle, that started about a half mile outside of the castle.

It was a well run city.

But the most interesting part about the castle was the massive white branches of an ancient weirwood tree that could be seen from any point on the castle grounds. It rose almost as high as the damn keep. I really wasn’t sure how the thick branches were being held up, the weight alone should have been too much for the wood to hold.

That was where my feet were currently taking me. Dinner was fabulous, as you would expect from a minor Lord hosting the Lord they were sworn to. There was beer, wine, pork, chicken, vegetables, and even prostitutes roaming the halls.

I had left as soon as it was considered polite, intent on mapping the city for any future endeavors here, and also visiting the weirwood tree. I wanted to see if for myself, but I also wanted to do something I had yet to do, and that was to use my greensight. Maybe I’d even train it a bit.

It was not hard to find the Godswood, one only had to follow the branches. It would be easy to find even without those to guide you, truth be told. It was, after all, the namesake of the castle I was currently in and it’s greatest attraction. Raventree hall was literally named after the ‘dead’ weirwood tree that housed thousands of ravens on it’s branches.

I nodded to the guards at the front gate to the Godswood. I had no idea why they would waste the manpower guarding such a place, but I didn’t bother using any brainpower trying to figure it out. Some things just weren’t worth it.

I continued to follow the path, which was lined with roses, and other pretty flowers along the way. Lord Blackwood obviously spent a lot of gold and manpower on the upkeep of the Godswood, an odd thing for a southern lord. Most of the time, the north are the only ones to administer such care. In fact, most southern castles didn’t even call it ‘godswood’, but instead just ‘gardens’. Obviously, it was because they did not follow the old gods.

I turned a corner in the Godswood, and suddenly I could see it.

Holy shit. I thought as I saw it.

The trunk was absolutely massive. If one were to hollow it out and make a bed out of it I was certain I could lay in it spread eagle and not touch the walls. It was the most impressive thing I had ever seen, but there was no doubt that it was dead.

Well it looked dead at least, from what I could see of the bark on the trunk. I walked up to it, becoming more curious the closer that I got. There was a face carved on to the tree, like any other weirwood. Except this one wasn’t weeping red sap.

But if it’s dead, why haven’t the branches fallen or broken from a windy day? I thought to myself.

I reached my right hand out to the tree, because what else are you to do when you come face to face with what might be the largest and oldest tree you’ll see in any life. I wanted to touch it, to feel the dead bark.

My first thought was that the white bark was not as hard as I initially believed it would be. It still felt like the bark of a tree, as there is only so much deviation you can have when it comes to that. But I didn’t feel anything overly powerful from it like I expected. I expected to be able to feel something, like a spark of power that I could use to activate my greensight.

Nothing.

I frowned at the tree, but continued to rub the bark unwilling to believe that the ancient weirwood was dead. On a whim, I placed my left hand on it.

A sharp pain jolted through my arm as something stabbed into my palm.

I let out a short cry and grunt as I tried to yank my hand back, but I couldn’t. Something was holding it there to the tree.

Ping!

My entire sight changed. Smoky black clouds of something ran over my vision, obscuring everything from sight.

Mutation accepted: Petyr the Gatherer unlocked.

Then, amongst the black clouds a single constellation appeared. A memory of playing the Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim flashed through my brain. It looked just like how the skill tree did in that game, although I didn’t remember one ever looking like what was in front of me.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

The constellation was dim in my vision, but it soon formed itself into what was obviously a weirwood tree if you were to connect the ‘stars’ of the constellation with lines.

Only one of the ‘stars’ in the constellation was lit, and I focused on, trying to see what it did for me and the game of my life.

‘Ability to grow weirwood trees.’

I frowned, confused at just what the fuck was going on.

Exit.

The world changed from the Gathering skill tree to normal. All of a sudden, I was standing in front of the weirwood tree in Raventree Hall. My hand had fallen from the bark of the tree, and was dangling by my side.

I looked down to my palm to see that there was a small circle of white puffy skin where the tree had pierced me. My gaze went back to the weirwood tree to see if it would give me any indication of what just happened. I wanted to know why exactly my Greenseeing ability had mutated, and to what extent.

But the tree didn’t look like it did before.

For starters, the face on the front of the tree was weeping red sap, as most weirwood did. I looked up after that, to confirm what I thought had happened. What I saw was not the look of a dead weirwood with no leaves.

No, now there were red leaves sprouting from the massive branches that reached over the city. The white bark looked more alive, and less cracked.

I revived the ancient old weirwood tree, and unlocked a new mutation in my greenseeing ability.

I began to reach my hand out to the tree again, to see if I could now test my greenseeing ability before I stopped. What would happen if everyone realized that the ‘dead’ weirwood tree had been revived? What if I was caught here beneath it literally greenseeing?

Perhaps nothing would happen.

Perhaps I would be strung up from the very tree I just revived. But more likely they wouldn’t be able to prove anything but a stigma would follow me wherever I went in Westeros. People would always be suspicious of me.

So I turned away from the tree, and quickly made my way deeper into the gardens before anyone came to investigate.

I still had yet to test my greenseeing ability.

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It did not come as a surprise to me that I had developed into a loner on this trip. I was a loner in my last life too, after all.

But because of that, it was hard to stay in touch with the rumors of the caravan and the goings on of the Seven Kingdoms. I was definitely not going to become the Master of Whisperers anytime soon, that was for sure.

However, what I did know is that a tournament of such size that attracted so much money and so many Lord’s and Lady’s from all over Westeros to a single place was a recipe for disaster. As soon as we left Raventree Hall, with praise from Lord Blackwood, I was on high alert.

All I could think about as we ambled down the road to Harrenhall, was how much of a score it would be for some particularly ambitious bandits.

If someone had asked me, I would have told them that there is no way a bandit would even dare to attack a Lord’s caravan. After all, we had knights aplenty and it would be the easiest extermination of bandits in the history of Westeros.

But still, I couldn’t allow myself to relax.

So one night, about halfway from Raventree Hall and Harrenhall, I was lying awake in my tent. My sword was close to me, yet still sheathed, as was my bow and quiver. It would have been fair to say that I was a bit paranoid.

All I knew was that the frogs, and the crickets, and the other bugs that normally made the night loud to some quieted down a bit. I thought it was suspicious, so I stood up, and grabbed my sword but did not actually belt it.

I was about to walk out of my tent when I heard footsteps just outside.

I stopped, as my gut began to scream at me.

I was looking straight at the flap of my tent when I saw it be pushed aside by what looked to be a metal tip. It was dark and hard to see so I didn’t react as I probably should. It took my tent being opened without my permission, and seeing a man that I didn’t recognize on the other side with a sword in his hand for me to react properly.

The man smiled at me as I began to move, and stepped to the side to reveal another man behind him with a bow and arrow in his hands pointed straight at me.

My eyes widened, and with a single motion I drew my sword as I rolled to the side of my tent.

The sound of many bows releasing their arrows at once sounded out throughout our encampment. Directly after that, the sound of arrows bouncing off of armor, and sinking into flesh, pierced the air.

I didn’t wait to feel the impact of an arrow hit me. With all of the adrenaline, I’m sure that I wouldn’t have noticed it even if it had found its mark. Instead, I used the momentum of my roll to cut at the tents walls. It sliced through it like it was paper, a product of me cleaning and sharpening it often on the road to Harrenhall.

I jumped out of the hole I had just cut, fully prepared to yell out an alarm, only for my reactions to kick in and turn my body.

The man that had opened the flap in my tent had followed me easily and stabbed straight for my chest when I leapt out of the tent. He was either very confident that he would stab me, or not used to wielding a sword because he lost his balance and opened himself up for a counter attack.

I took advantage of it, and moved past him while running my sword across his neck. My eyes searched for the archer without even confirming that the man was bleeding out behind me. His gurgles hit my ears just as I found the archer about fifteen feet away.

He was not very fast at drawing his arrow back, and fifteen feet was not a long amount of distance for someone with a sword.

The bandit boy, as it was obvious that he was no older than I was, saw that he wouldn’t have time to shoot the arrow, so his hands dropped the bow and moved to draw the sword on his waist. He was not fast enough, and just like his comrade, I ran my blade across his throat.

A part of me wanted to pick up the bow and arrow that was now at my feet and deal damage to the attacking forces that way. But there wasn’t enough light for me to safely know if I was shooting at Knights or bandits. I could only barely make out the bodies I was swinging at.

“Bandits!” Someone in front of me yelled.

I realized that I hadn’t yelled out any sort of warning yet either, and was slightly ashamed before I began running towards the sounds of fighting.

I found an archer drawing another arrow, and taking aim at a knight and bandit in the middle of a sword fight. I disemboweled him just as the knight cut the side of the bandit open, showcasing a bit of skill with a blade. Although with bandits that had no training, it was not something to brag about.

“Follow me boy.” The knight called out with a deep voice. A man that I had heard talk on the journey, but hadn’t actually had a conversation with. I didn’t even know his name, and he obviously didn’t know mine.

We immediately made way for the biggest tent in the clearing, where Lord Hoster and his family would be. That’s where the bulk of the fighting was now happening.

In reality, it was not that much of a fight. Bandits were dying left and right to the precise cuts of around five knights.

When I and the mystery knight beside me arrived, the fighting stopped.

“Run!” I heard the bandits yell.

Most tried their best to obey and turned to run away, but some were still within a swords range and were cut down before they had the ability to flee.

“Hold!” The knight beside me yelled, to prevent his comrades from chasing after them. “Tend to the Lord and his family!” He explained.

“Let’s run them down!” Another knight who held his sword at the ready retorted.

“They’re weak!”

“No!”

The voices continued in the same manner, some in support and some against the knights' decision. I even saw a few inching towards the trees that the bandits ran towards.

I stood there for a moment, waiting for instructions on what to do. I honestly didn't have an opinion. Or at least, I didn’t have one that I was confident in yelling out. A part of me wanted to chase the bandits in retribution. Another part of me wanted to go on about my life, never thinking about the experience again.

“Ride them down!”

Now that voice turned the heads of everyone standing around, including my own. Hoster Tully had made his presence known, and as I looked towards him, I discovered why he had made that decision. In the right side of his chest, almost at his shoulder, the shaft of an arrow could be seen protruding.

I sighed, as some of the men cheered, and some of the men rushed to his side, including Edmure.

I whistled loudly, in a particular tune that I had been practicing on the road. I saw a few heads turn to me, but I ignored them for the sounds of hooves hitting the earth. My loyal horse had answered my call, just as I had been training it to.

Honestly though, it was easy to train being a gamer. All I had to do was get Horse to answer it once, and the skill appeared. After almost a month on the road, the skill was at a level that Horse would always answer.

Summon Horse: lvl 20

If you whistle, he will come.

Horse stopped next to me, and I didn’t waste any time climbing up on his back. Once I was comfortable, I looked around to see that nobody else was even close to their horse, and the bandits were only getting farther.

It would be a good opportunity to gain some respect, and even some glory. I thought to myself as I waited.

Fuck it.

I kicked Horse into action, and he obeyed dutifully as I drew my sword once again.

Ping!

Sword Fighting: Lvl 45

Defense Lvl 50

Offense Lvl 42

Horseback Lvl 5

I dismissed the prompt as Horse ran into the trees. I thought it would be impossible to find the bandits, as they could have made infinite turns to confuse us, using the lack of light to their advantage. We would never find them

Nope, they had run in a straight line away from the campsite.

I prepared myself, getting ready to swing my sword, as I was gaining ground quickly. The first man screamed as he heard the sound of hooves behind him, but he did not duck, nor did he swerve. My sword opened his neck with a precise cut.

Ping!

The rest was easier than I expected it to be.