"Your Grace, you seem to be in high spirits?"
It was a rather peculiar breakfast. Wyman Manderly could not help but lift his head again, his gaze somewhat curious as he looked at the king seated at the head of the table.
After holding back for quite some time, Wyman finally clenched his teeth and could not restrain himself from voicing the question that had been gnawing at him.
From the moment his steward had invited the king to dine that morning, until now, when breakfast was nearly over, the faint smile at His Grace's lips had never once faded.
The steward had even told him that the king had been like this since first seeing him at dawn.
This bore no resemblance to the wrathful slayer of yesterday.
If yesterday's king had been a blazing inferno, then today he was a gently flowing, warm spring.
The same man—yet as different as night and day.
Hearing Wyman's words, Kal smiled. He set down his knife and fork, then returned his hand beneath the table.
"Yes. The weather is fine today."
As he spoke, Kal reached down to rub the head of the large golden-furred dog at his feet.
In response to his touch, the dog—buried in its meal and eating heartily—let out a contented whine. Its great tail swished back and forth with force, thudding against the floor.
At those words, Wyman froze for a moment and instinctively turned his head toward the window, his expression turning strange.
With winter drawing ever closer, the weather in the North had grown increasingly harsh.
Yesterday's weather had been tolerable, but in the latter half of the night, freezing rain had begun to fall over White Harbor.
The guards had reported that the heads stacked upon the docks yesterday were now coated in a thin layer of ice.
Faced with the king's blatant nonsense, Wyman wisely chose not to expose it. Instead, his eyes drifted once more—almost involuntarily—to the great dog at Kal's feet.
Even standing on all fours, its back rose nearly to a man's waist.
Its head was larger than a soup cauldron in the kitchens, and its thick paws looked capable of pressing a black bear flat with a single strike.
Had it not been panting with its tongue hanging out, and greeting people with friendly enthusiasm—attempting to lick any who came near—Wyman might have thought the king had captured some forest tiger.
According to what he had learned from the steward, when King Kal emerged from his chambers that morning, the beast had already been at his side.
No one knew where it had come from, yet all could see how fond the king was of it.
It could be said that anyone in the New Castle with eyes in their head could see that the king's good mood was directly tied to this inexplicable hound.
Could it be that His Grace was particularly fond of dogs?
People thought as much, and the maids whispered quietly among themselves in the kitchens.
"Uh… Your Grace, does it have a name?"
Wyman wisely chose not to dwell on what, precisely, was so fine about the weather the king had mentioned. Instead, he asked what this large dog—already having devoured an entire sheep from his kitchens—was called.
One dragon, and one dog.
Both of them capable of prodigious appetites.
Hearing the question, Kal was the one who faltered this time. How could he possibly remember what the dog was called?
So, almost instinctively, he pulled up his game interface and switched to the [Party] tab.
Aside from his own character portrait and status attributes, there was now an additional icon below—a dog's icon, bearing the exact likeness of the large golden hound at his feet.
Kal looked at the name displayed above it—JJ.
"Uh… it's called JJ."
"JJ?"
"Yes. Is there a problem?"
"Of course not, Your Grace. It is an excellent name!"
Wyman's polite praise dissolved the slight awkwardness.
Kal felt he was a good man; the brow he had raised slowly lowered again.
As for the dog's name—well, when he had bought it from the pet shop, he had simply typed in two letters at random.
Was he supposed to tell Wyman that?
As for how JJ had come from the game world to this place, that was a longer story… though not truly long.
In short, after several… ahem, quite a few rounds of cordial exchanges with Erevi within the Tower of Terror, he had told her about the world he now inhabited.
Another dimension, after all, was hardly a secret to gods and mages—merely an ordinary matter.
Yet after Kal had subtly hinted at certain things, Erevi—who had originally been indifferent and uninterested—suddenly developed a faint spark of curiosity regarding the subject he mentioned.
A crack had been pried open, and that made Kal quite pleased.
If he remembered correctly, before the version update, these characters had all been rigid NPCs. Though they still were, after the update there seemed to be subtle differences.
In any case, Erevi had agreed to this "date."
Thus, to celebrate this joyful and celebratory moment, Kal—during a moment of post-clarity—suddenly remembered that the mistress of the Tower of Terror liked perfume.
Give a woman a gift, and satisfy a few of her "small" requests, and in most cases complicated problems become simple.
But now, if he wished to craft perfume, he lacked the necessary materials.
First were bat glands, and next came that miraculous plant extract.
Bat glands were simple enough—just step into a bat cave. The Bat King would be more than willing to offer some trivial assistance.
As for lotus essence or nocturnal essence, those would have to be purchased at Greyport.
Near a tavern called The Damp Maiden in this port city stood a mysterious shop. Its proprietor was a woman, one who worshipped the same god as Erevi.
Within, one could purchase many wondrous things: ordinary magic potions; storage chests crafted with ancient techniques, capable of linking to one another and possessing immense internal space.
Even… souls.
Souls simply sealed within glass bottles.
Of course, what Kal chiefly needed were the materials required to craft that kind of magical perfume with special effects.
Thinking that he ought to present the witch with a gift to win her favor, Kal immediately ceased lingering in bed. At first light, he rose, went to the bat cave to obtain a portion of bat glands, and then used a waystone to travel to Greyport.
There, he discovered a dog still tied beside the waystone.
He had completely forgotten the pet he had purchased from a merchant who dealt in both animals and slaves. He had kept it with him while leveling, but at some point had casually tied it there—and forgotten it.
Owing to the limited development of this game version, Greyport did not offer many quests. The most important one concerned the elf who guarded the Sacred Spring of the Elves—specifically, that elf's mother, who happened to be Kal's mother-in-law.
A female elf, still graceful, with flowing silver hair.
Mm.
Yes.
Exactly what you are thinking.
Thus, Kal had not visited this place for quite some time.
Fortunately, although creatures in this world ate food, they had no concept of hunger. Dog JJ remained lively and vigorous; the moment it saw Kal, it wagged its tail and barked in delight.
Kal casually untied its rope, brought it back to his side, and added it to his party.
Later, after Kal had finished all his business—crafted the perfume, delivered the gift, and concluded yet another battle with the dark elf witch—he lay upon the bed, saved the game, and exited the world.
When he opened his eyes again and returned to the real world, he suddenly discovered that the dog he had once more inadvertently forgotten had followed him into reality.
Seeing this, how could Kal fail to realize what it meant?
An uncontrollable surge of elation flooded his heart.
After joyfully rubbing the dog's head in excitement, Kal forced himself to calm down and think.
First, the problem he had long been unable to solve—how to bring characters from the game world into this world—now seemed to show signs of a breakthrough.
He had never imagined that the party function in the game, which seemed entirely optional, would in fact be the true method of transporting living beings across worlds.
Within the game, that function had felt dispensable, existing merely to serve the plot.
Moreover, during storyline progression, even if he formed a party with others, he could only advance the plot and go nowhere else.
Most importantly, it was not that Kal had never considered whether the party function might allow him to bring people out of the game world.
Because he had tried it before—and it had not worked.
The process had been just like progressing through a quest. Even if he saved and exited the game world during a quest, he still returned alone.
Moreover, once the storyline was completed, he had no way to form a party with anyone again.
So afterward, Kal had forgotten about it—or rather, passed it over.
Yet he had not expected that, after inadvertently keeping the dog at his side last night, when he returned to the real world, JJ would follow him over as well.
'What is the reason?'
As he rubbed the dog's head, Kal began analyzing the core factor behind this success.
'Freedom?'
'Or is it that I must initiate the party, and the other side must agree? Or perhaps they must subjectively be willing to follow?'
'The dog certainly satisfies all those options.'
'If my guess is correct, then I must try again. And in the game world, besides the dog, there is still one being with whom I can actively initiate a party… no, rather, a succubus.'
Just as Kal was pondering which precise condition had allowed everything to align, Wyman's steward came to invite the king to dine.
After exchanging slightly awkward smiles, those at the table resumed their meal.
When Kal had finished eating and lifted a silk napkin to wipe the corner of his mouth, he suddenly spoke.
"Lord Manderly, I hear you have requested aid from the Vale's forces. Is that so?"
Kal looked up at Wyman, as though speaking casually.
Seeing that the king had finished his meal, Wyman and his family followed suit at once, setting down their utensils.
"Yes, Your Grace. The knights of the Vale are the nearest reinforcements."
Wyman felt no embarrassment in admitting it. There were other lords nearby who could lend aid, but in terms of strength they would not be of much use. It was better to request assistance from the Vale's knights and settle the matter once and for all.
"According to their reply, they are about two days' march from us. Do you wish me to send word to Lord Yohn Royce of Runestone, who leads the host?"
"Our call for aid caused them to depart from the Kingsroad. If they return to the Kingsroad, they will reach Winterfell more swiftly to reinforce the war there."
Wyman understood the present situation in the North well. Now that White Harbor had been secured, the remaining matters would be easy enough to handle.
With a great host pressing in and a dragon at the king's command, he could not imagine what room Balon Greyjoy had left to struggle.
Thus, he believed that the matter at Winterfell was of greater importance.
Yet in response to Wyman's suggestion, Kal merely pressed his lips together and absentmindedly stroked JJ's head.
"Yohn Royce leads them in person…," Kal pondered seriously. Then he paused slightly, as though recalling something.
"No. There is no need to send a reply. I will go to them myself."
Having said this, Kal did not linger. He rose at once and strode out of the Merman's Court.
Noticing his movement, JJ—still crouched on the floor devouring its meal—gulped down the last of the sheep's brain and hurried to its feet to follow.
Faced with the king's sudden action, the Manderly family froze for a moment. Then Lord Manderly hastily rose and followed after him.
"Your Grace, you are leaving at once?"
"Will you not rest a while longer? I have already summoned the forces of White Harbor. We shall soon set sail for Winterfell. Though I have grown too stout to mount a horse, my two sons will represent House Manderly's loyalty to House Stark in my stead."
Wyman feared he had failed in his hospitality and quickly explained.
Kal, who had already resolved to depart, paused at those words.
"You have summoned the forces of White Harbor?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Good," Kal nodded. "A force of Vale cavalry will soon arrive at White Harbor. When they do, you will guide them. I require you to lead them in an assault upon the Dreadfort of House Bolton."
Kal's tone did not shift in the slightest, as though he were merely remarking that the bacon had been crisply fried and the honeyed bread sweet.
Yet that thunder hidden within calm words stunned every member of House Manderly where they stood.
"Your Grace—you intend to attack the Dreadfort?"
"Why?"
Though he wished not to ask, Wyman had no choice.
At such a critical juncture, the king was declaring war without warning upon one of the North's most important noble houses.
And that house had done nothing.
In answer, Kal merely smiled faintly.
"Because before Robb Stark was captured by Balon Greyjoy, I had already warned him. And if he were only facing a rebel force composed of southerners, I can see no reason why Robb Stark would have failed."
"If it were you, my lord, where would you think the problem lies?"
"House Karstark? Or House Bolton?"
Before this, Kal had likewise never suspected Roose Bolton.
After all, no matter how one looked at it, Roose Bolton had no reason to betray.
The Leech Lord was no fool, nor a man ruled by impulse.
Unless he saw the North collapsing beyond recovery and House Bolton capable of taking control, he would remain the most loyal supporter of House Stark's rule.
In the original tale, he was cold, cunning, calculating, and exceedingly shrewd—fully aware of what he was doing.
Moreover, to stabilize the North, Kal had already played his strongest card, sending the forces of the Vale to assert control—using overwhelming strength to crush a trivial threat.
Kal did not believe that, under such arrangements, any upheaval could arise in the North.
And this had led him not to think too deeply about it. He had even ceased paying much attention to the North, devoting himself instead to preparations for what was to come.
It was only just now that Kal suddenly realized he might have fallen into a subtle error of judgment.
At times, one need not openly declare allegiance to stand with a side; and those who appear loyally at your side are not necessarily loyal.
In the end, what drives men is always interest.
And if the fall of House Umber, the crippling of House Karstark, and further setbacks to House Stark, Wardens of the North, were to benefit someone—
Viewing the matter from the perspective of the one who stood to gain made Kal's thoughts instantly clear.
Most importantly, he required neither proof nor justification.
Winter was coming. Cleansing the North entirely would bring him nothing but advantage for what he intended to do next.
And now, he also possessed a most convenient pretext.
Faced with the king's conjecture, the tension upon Wyman's face gradually shifted.
Wyman was ordinarily genial and warm, his laughter loud and hearty.
For that reason, his smallfolk often jokingly called him the "Lord of Eels."
Yet though his girth and form made him appear foolish, in truth he was exceedingly shrewd.
Kal had only hinted at the matter, and Wyman had already grasped the crux of it.
"Your Grace, I shall personally lead the host."
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