"You gave me that knowledge… it is very… special…"
Within the dim and shadowy great hall, a somewhat peculiar voice rang out, mingled with muttered whispers.
As that voice fell silent, the rhythm unchanged, another deep voice immediately followed.
"So… what advice can you give me, Erevi?"
It was a man's voice, magnetic, as though whispering beside one's ear.
And as that reply faded, the strange muttering voice from before suddenly turned sharp.
"So, you wish… you wish to receive what kind of advice?"
"If it is now, I advise you to do what you ought to do, before the god."
Before the weirwood altar on the second floor of the Dread Tower, a ritual was underway.
Kal's back muscles bulged, distinct and layered like overlapping ridges.
The will of the god upon the altar had descended even before the ritual began. He had to give it his all.
And there was also the master of the Dread Tower upon the altar—the priestess of this evil god.
Kal was someone who listened to advice, so he clenched his teeth, every muscle in his body taut.
Already swift, he once again quickened his pace.
Only after two minutes passed did Kal abruptly come to a halt.
In the next instant, it seemed as though a cheer resounded by his ear.
Kal could not help but close his eyes.
Silently savoring this moment that belonged to the victor.
Compared to the noble dark elf witch, the Rose of Highgarden, Margaery Tyrell, was not even on the same level.
Before Kal, the Rose of Highgarden truly was nothing more than a delicate blossom.
And before her, perhaps Kal was merely a resilient and somewhat more useful ganoderma lucidum.
Only now, having completed this ritual, did Kal have the leisure to lift his head and look at the statue that had been radiating a hazy red glow upon the altar since the ritual began.
With the ritual complete, the light gradually dimmed, returning once more to darkness.
It was evident that it was very satisfied with this ritual.
The brazier before the altar burned vigorously, and after the hazy red glow receded, it once again brought light back to this sinister temple.
Upon the altar, the dark elf witch, clad in a red silk gown, only sat up after Kal had left.
The witch was also satisfied. Perhaps among the cheers just now, there had been a share that belonged to her.
Erevi, too, closed her eyes. Only after Kal had been gone for quite some time did she open them and sit up.
Turning her head to glance at the statue of the god she worshipped, she could sense the departure of that supreme will. She then stepped down from the altar as well.
"I am very satisfied. Perhaps before long I will bear a child. If you have time, you may clean the rooms on the third floor and add some furnishings. Otherwise, there will not be enough rooms to live in."
Hearing her words, Kal, who had walked to the side and was taking the opportunity to rest while drinking some water, set down his cup, looked over, and nodded in acknowledgment.
"I will go into town and have the carpenter come."
"So, regarding that knowledge, what suggestions do you have?"
As the mayor, this matter was simple for Kal, but that was not the purpose of his coming here tonight.
Previously, while at the Citadel, he had gathered quite a bit of occult knowledge that he could obtain. After making a duplicate copy, Kal brought it to the dark elf witch before him at the first opportunity.
With his funding and the True Knowledge Society that had developed in secret, he was able to obtain quite a bit of knowledge that should have remained confidential. Yet for the Citadel, it was still but a mere fraction.
So in truth, Kal had already formed other ideas.
However, in response to Kal's question, the contempt in the dark elf witch's eyes was undisguised.
The dark elf said with some disdain, "It is very disordered, even quite low-level. Though some of the concepts within are rather special and have given me a certain positive inspiration."
In any case, these things were not without merit, Kal thought.
But it was clear that the mistress of the Dread Tower did not wish to dwell on this dull topic. Her gaze shifted, turning alluring once more as she sized up Kal's robust physique from head to toe again.
"So if you want advice, I advise you that if you truly have interest in studying this tangled and inefficient stuff, you would be better off paying more attention to your daughter!"
"Whatever you want, she is a shortcut."
Kal of course knew which daughter the witch meant. The god they had just performed the ritual to please was intricately connected with her.
If Kal's Seven-Gods incarnation was false, then she could be said to be the genuine article.
But Kal was not unconcerned about his daughter. After all, every time he went down to the dungeon to collect the crystal eggs of the bat banshee, she would always follow behind him, and then those three special pieces of furniture would gain a few more traces of use.
So his concern for her was no less than for the witch before him.
Moreover, the power he could obtain in this world was in fact limited. After all, the setting of this incomplete world was such; in essence, he was still a player.
Everything here could only proceed according to a fixed pattern. Many things were more like background settings.
Thus, he was not satisfied with her answer.
Frowning slightly, Kal pressed on and continued to ask, "Then can you see anything more?"
"This is very important to me."
For Kal, compared with the game world, the world of ice and fire was real.
So all along he had been trying to break through this barrier, wishing to merge the two.
Seeing that Kal insisted, and that his expression was not in jest, the witch, having been satisfied, did not mind offering him a bit of guidance.
She moved gracefully and sat back upon the altar. "Blasphemy! Or rather, arrogance!" The dark elf did not conceal it in the least.
"In the knowledge you gave me, these things are written there nakedly. And it seems there is another group whose ideas are not the same. This is a confrontation hidden in the shadows."
"One group blasphemes the gods; the other upholds them."
"But without exception, they are all studying that deeper layer of power. Yet they are far too distant from it."
"Like children playing house. Ridiculous, is it not?"
Hearing this, Kal knew that the mistress of the Dread Tower truly had understood those things.
With a single remark, she had spoken out the inner essence of ice and fire, discerning it merely from fragmented scraps of information.
At that thought, Kal could not help but fall silent for a moment.
Then he suddenly raised his head, and his gaze toward Erevi turned serious.
"So, are you not curious about these things?"
Kal was prepared to reveal the secret he had long concealed. He intended to test whether he could truly bring about change.
Yet in response to Kal's probing question, the well-traveled dark elf witch merely shook her head.
"What is there to be curious about?"
"It is nothing more than a group of fools attempting to probe the 'truth.' In this world, they are not the only ones who have gone mad. Yet most of them have long since vanished into history."
"Just like the so-called 'technology' you saw in the depths of that abandoned ancient temple. In the end, it will all turn to dust. Only the gods endure."
The dark elf truly did not care about these things. She had no interest in them at all.
"So you obtained this trash from overseas?"
Kal frowned slightly, unsure for a moment how to respond.
He found himself unable to distinguish whether the elf witch's words were part of that "story's" backdrop or its underlying logic.
Or perhaps, for her, that was simply the truth.
Kal fell into hesitation once more. Then he lifted his head and looked toward the evil god who had already departed, satisfied.
He slowly spoke, "What if I say that these things come from other worlds? I mean worlds—worlds entirely different from this one."
Only then did a faint change appear in Erevi's lingering gaze.
"Another dimension?"
The dark elf asked with slight confusion. This was not some secret matter.
"Something similar, perhaps. It is a more complete world," Kal did not intend to say too much.
"What I wish to ask is, are you interested in this?"
Upon hearing this, the elf witch's expression showed sudden realization, as though she had understood what had seemed strange to her.
"No wonder. I was wondering why those things were so peculiar. At times they are like studying excrement in a pigsty, and at other times studying pig feed—utterly chaotic, without any clear thread."
"So the world you speak of likely has unstable tides of magic, and those gods as well, hehe…"
The elf witch seemed able to see through to a deeper layer of the issue; the contempt and disdain in her eyes grew even more apparent.
Hearing this, Kal knew he had found the right person.
This time he spoke his invitation directly. "If I have a way to go to that world, I would like to take you with me. Are you interested?"
Faced with Kal's invitation, Erevi's gaze turned serious for the first time.
…
"Father, should we truly not search for Tywin Lannister?"
Upon a hill that was not particularly high, Asha Greyjoy looked toward the castle in the distance—said to have been built over eight thousand years ago by Brandon the Builder with the help of giants—and recalled the strange incident in the Wolfswood.
Balon Greyjoy wore a thick bearskin cloak upon his shoulders. His pale hair hung down, drifting together with the falling snow.
This was already the third day since they had encircled Winterfell.
Ever since what had happened that night at Deepwood Motte, heavy snow had once again begun to fall across the North, continuing without pause until now.
"Why look for him? Why concern ourselves with a corpse that still breathes?"
At his daughter's question, Balon cast her a glance, utterly unconcerned.
As he spoke, a plume of white mist drifted from the corner of his mouth.
"Tywin Lannister is a clever man. He saw at a glance that Roose Bolton harbored killing intent toward him. Count him fortunate that he ran quickly."
Yet Asha still felt uneasy, though she did not know why.
Ever since the battle in the Wolfswood, she felt that something everywhere was not quite right.
"I think we should not have let Tywin escape just like that. Did Roose Bolton not say so? He would have been a fine gift—especially his head!"
"If we could bring him back, it would still benefit us. At the very least, we could trade his head for some good things."
Asha did not know what exactly was amiss, so she could only offer what she believed to be a sound reason.
But upon hearing her words, Balon's expression immediately turned extremely grim. His sharp gaze shot toward her like a blade.
"If the ironborn need something, they pay the iron price. They never use any other means. Asha, I did not expect to hear such words from your mouth!"
"Do not tell me this snow has frozen your wits!"
Faced with her father's rebuke, how could Asha fail to understand? It was merely a solution she had thought of under their present predicament.
With worry in her eyes, she looked toward Winterfell in the distance, now tightly encircled by them.
Ever since they had laid siege to Winterfell, matters had suddenly fallen into a kind of stagnation. Three days had passed, and nothing had been resolved.
They could not breach the castle, yet neither could they remain in such weather any longer. The cursed cold was growing ever more bitter.
Even when they threatened Robb Stark's life, Rodrik Cassel, master-at-arms of Winterfell, remained exceedingly resolute. In contrast, Theon Greyjoy had become their captive.
This plunged the situation into a deadlock.
Though they had never shown the slightest concern for Theon—Balon had even declared openly that, if Rodrik Cassel wished it, he could slit Theon's throat at any time.
From the moment they began the siege of Winterfell, they had spoken only of exchanging Robb for the castle. They had not mentioned Theon in the least.
If the Starks were willing to yield the castle, they would allow them to depart.
Yet Rodrik's firmness was strangely unyielding, as though he did not care in the slightest for their young lord.
Seeing this, Asha no longer concealed her thoughts. "We must find a way, Father. If we remain here any longer, we will become nothing but corpses."
"I know. That is why today I will give Winterfell its final choice."
"You mean?" Asha was startled.
"If Rodrik Cassel truly remains defiant, then I shall kill Robb Stark before his eyes."
Balon's tone was as cold as the weather.
He had already lost his patience.
Yet upon hearing this, the worry between Asha's brows did not fade.
Two hours later, Robb Stark, tightly bound with ropes, was dragged directly to the southern gate of Winterfell.
"Rodrik Cassel, I give you only one hour to decide today!"
"For every five minutes that pass, I will cut something from his body—until the hour is over."
With that, Balon drew the dagger from his waist and strode straight toward Robb.
With a swift motion, the blade fell, and an ear—frozen red by the cold—dropped to the ground.
A scream rang out, and a spray of crimson splashed across the pale world.
Upon the walls of Winterfell, Rodrik had never expected Balon to act so directly. His eyes were filled with fury.
Yet it did not end there. Balon had a bow brought forth and skewered the severed ear upon an arrow.
Taking aim at the gates of Winterfell, he loosed the shot.
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