GOT: Heir of Dreadfort

"What is your name?"

Domeric asked again.

But the girl bound in chains only let out a series of high-pitched squeaks, offering no intention of replying.

She shrank her little head and continued to look at him with those large, tearful, helpless, innocent eyes.

What was this supposed to be?

Domeric frowned and turned to his chief knight. "Ser Wendel, go and pluck a strand of her hair."

"Why me?"

Wendel rubbed his bald head. "She's an evil mage, isn't she?"

"If you can't even face evil, how will you ever find the courage to overcome it? I thought you were a proper knight." Domeric had no choice but to use the one tactic that always worked on Ser Wendel—provocation.

He didn't truly want to send his chief knight into danger, but the surrounding guards were trembling like leaves. He couldn't rely on any of them.

To these soldiers, magic was more terrifying than demons.

"Fine, I'll go!" Wendel grumbled. But as he stepped forward, he began muttering under his breath, "Why is it always me? Why can't the good things ever come my way?"

He slowly approached the girl, trembling slightly, and reached out with shaky hands to pluck a single strand of her hair.

Such a simple act sent the guards behind Domeric gasping and stepping back in unison. Only Ser Jorah Mormont stood firm, moving forward to shield his lord.

Domeric was speechless.

So it's true. In the world of Thrones, you really can't rely on low-level soldiers.

Wendel grabbed a single hair and darted back like a rabbit, stopping at Domeric's side.

[Secret-Digging System Activated!]

A series of text blocks appeared across Domeric's vision.

[Name: Cici]

[Identity: "Pet" of an unknown mage]

[Title: None]

[Strength: 6]

[Agility: 12]

[Spirit: 5]

[Note: A powerful mage's "pet." Due to unknown reasons, she has swapped bodies with her master… If you feed her delicious food, you may earn her goodwill.]

At the same time, images of someone feeding her flashed through Domeric's mind…

So she's a "pet." That explained why she couldn't speak properly.

Domeric was glad the girl was gripped by fear, allowing his Secret-Digging System to function at full capacity.

Still, the concept was absurd—swapping bodies with a pet? Was that really a form of magic?

"What now?" asked Jorah, seeing his lord lost in thought.

"Unchain her. Then prepare some good food."

...

Soon, the wide dungeon chamber was filled with delicious dishes.

Braised beef, smoked salmon, baked snails, red wine steak, juicy cheese, caviar, roast turkey…

Domeric's personal chefs, trained under his strict guidance, worked swiftly under his orders.

If there was one area Domeric was confident in—after years of savoring the finest cuisine—it was food. Even the king didn't eat as well as he did.

The girl timidly stepped forward, lifted a piece of steak with her little hands, and took a bite. Slowly, she began to chew.

Seeing that Domeric didn't stop her, she quickly devoured more. Her cheeks puffed out, and her face was soon smeared with grease like a messy kitten.

"Eat slowly. There's plenty more," Domeric said with a warm smile.

"Th-thank… you," the girl replied in broken speech, her face glowing with delight.

Domeric turned and walked out of the dungeon with his followers.

"Weren't we supposed to interrogate her?" asked Wendel, confused.

"There's no useful information to be had from her. Didn't you see? She can barely speak."

"Then what do we do?"

"Don't worry. Her master will come to rescue her. All we need to do now is wait. Like a trap, ready to spring."

"What's a trap springing?" Wendel scratched his bald head, baffled by the strange phrase.

"Shut up," Domeric snapped. He didn't feel like explaining anything to this chatterbox.

Turning away, Domeric's expression grew cold. "Double the guards in the dungeon. No—send a hundred more."

"Ser Jorah, I'll be counting on you to personally oversee the dungeon these next few days. I trust no one else."

"It would be an honor, my lord."

...

Domeric stood silently at the window.

Rain drummed against the panes. The whole of Lonely Mountain Town was shrouded in white mist.

It had been clear and sunny in the afternoon. But by dusk, leaden clouds had rolled in from the southeast. In minutes, the sky turned black.

A thunderclap boomed—and then it came. Tens of thousands of tons of rain poured from the heavens, like the floodgates of a great reservoir had been unleashed.

The outlines of distant mountains blurred. The town, built by miners, blacksmiths, and craftsmen, now looked drenched and distorted.

Low houses once neat and tidy were reduced to sagging silhouettes under the downpour.

Without proper drainage, the stone-paved roads turned to streams, shimmering with ripples as if a hundred creeks had suddenly appeared.

The mountains and forests in the distance were lost in a misty veil, appearing like a dreamland.

In his past life, such a view would've made this a top-tier tourist attraction.

But it was still far from the industrialized city Domeric envisioned.

After a long pause, Domeric crumpled the letter in his hand and tossed it into the fireplace, watching it curl and blacken in the flames.

It had contained news about the Targaryen siblings across the Narrow Sea—from Illyrio Mopatis in Pentos…

But for now, Domeric's priority remained the growth and strength of Lonely Mountain. He had no interest in the revival plans of fallen dynasties.

Ser Jorah Mormont stood quietly at his side.

"Everything is ready. I've set over a dozen traps outside the dungeon. Two hundred soldiers are disguised and on standby," Jorah reported.

"Good," Domeric nodded. "We're dealing with a mage. No precaution is too much."

From what Jorah had gathered, the mine attack had been fairly straightforward.

A few nights ago, the guards at the mine spotted a girl sneaking into the shafts. She was carrying a small pickaxe, seemingly searching for something. A confrontation followed.

The girl had no martial skill—but she wielded fire magic. In an instant, she killed over a dozen guards before Ser Jorah arrived and captured her.

From the intel provided by the Secret-Digging System, she was a "pet" belonging to some unknown mage.

But why would a mage be interested in his mines?

Was there some hidden treasure in those depths that even Domeric didn't know about?

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