reincarnated in GOT with a down graded Cheat engine.

Ser Sedge stood in the longhouse doorway, arms crossed, watching the boy disappear into the morning mist. He didn't move for a long while. Just stared.

Not a boy, he corrected himself. A young man. But still too green. Too soft. The kind of softness that couldn't be blamed born of comfort, not hardship. The softness of someone who thought pain could be managed, outsmarted, or sidestepped.

He closed the door.

Inside, the longhouse felt colder than it should. No hearth, just stone and timber. Not yet a proper hall.

Barely a town, if truth were told. Still smelled of mud and bark and the clatter of carpenters who didn't know how to silence their nails.

He walked to the rear table, where his notes were spread across a crude wooden surface. His handwriting tight, precise flowed in rows detailing food stores, recent arrivals, grain measurements, and names. Always names.

He ran a finger along one list.

Lena – weaver's daughter – spends too much time near the boy. Curious. Watch.Darrick – hunter – too many visits to the north tree line. Why?Mae – too beloved. Too rooted. Untouchable, for now.Levi – source unknown. Education erratic. Silver… unnatural.

He tapped the last name twice with his knuckle.

"Not a lord," he muttered aloud. "But not a peasant either."

He turned to glance at the rack where his sword rested real steel, not the wooden practice blades he had just spoken of.

He remembered the way Levi had spoken: respectful but stubborn, trying not to look afraid, but swallowing the air like he might choke on it. Good. That fear might keep him alive. Or at least stop him from climbing too fast.

The boy had no idea what it meant to lead. Not really. Not yet.

Build a village? Raise walls? Feed the hungry? How noble of him. But nobles don't care much about commoners he thought. Being alone didn't survive long in the Neck. Swamps and secrets ate dreams faster than hunger ever could.

He reached for a clay jug of water, took a slow drink, then leaned back in the creaking chair.

I'll see what he's made of, he thought. Let him bleed. Let him ache. If he runs, then that's all he ever was a clever boy with a coin purse and ambition.

If he doesn't?

Then maybe... maybe there's something worth guarding.

His eyes drifted to the corner of the room where the two guards he'd brought Rann and Hunn had left their weapons neatly stacked.

Both were quiet, watchful men. Not easily impressed. And they had been watching too.

He took the notes and tucked them into a sealed pouch. He'd send them to House Reed before the fortnight ended.

He reached for a clean scrap of parchment and began a new entry, this one written slower, more deliberate.

Report to House Reed:The settlement grows faster than expected. Order held through strange favor and idle charm.

Yet there is steel hiding beneath it. The founder, Levi, shows signs of command, if not yet clarity. Caution is advised. Future is a possibility.

He paused, then added:

Further evaluation pending. Personal test under way.

He signed it with his mark, folded it twice, and slid it beneath a wooden tray.

Then he rose, stepped outside, and looked at the faint trail of footprints Levi had left in the soft dirt.

The boy hadn't turned back once.

"Good," Sedge muttered under his breath. "Let's see how long you can hold your nerve."

And with that, Ser Sedge returned inside. There was still much to watch and even more to test.