reincarnated in GOT with a down graded Cheat engine.

Morning broke with the call of birds and the soft rustling of wind across the swamps. The second day of training had begun, and the young men of Bogwater stood ready some wearing their new chain-leather armor, others bare to the morning chill, already coated in sweat from warmups.

At the center of the field stood Ser Sedge, a veteran of many battles and the one now tasked to teach them not just how to swing a sword, but how to become men forged through trial.

Discipline came first.

Ser Sedge wasted no time. The drills were brutal in their repetition: stand, march, turn, stop, kneel, rise, repeat. For hours. Every morning began with these movements, sometimes under the glare of the sun, sometimes in the soft drizzle that often swept through Bogwater.

"If you can't obey orders," Ser Sedge said one morning, "you can't follow a commander. If you can't follow a commander, you die."

He gave them simple orders and demanded immediate obedience. A late reaction was met with laps around the field. Sloppy movements meant double the drills. Talking during lessons meant silence during meals. Slowly, the boys adapted.

They no longer walked in a scattered mess. They stood still when told. They listened. Levi, though a natural leader among them, followed Ser Sedge's commands like the rest. He knew setting the example mattered more than giving it.

Then came swordsmanship.

Ser Sedge trained them not in the flourishes of tourney knights, but in the grit of real fighting. Each boy was given a blunted practice sword. They began with the basics: grip, stance, balance. Naturally in this moment the armor levi gave came in handy.

Then strikes. Diagonals, overheads, side swings, thrusts.

Blocks. Parries. Footwork.

They practiced until their arms ached and their legs trembled. When one dropped their guard, Ser Sedge would strike them lightly with his cane or wooden sword.

"This," he would say, pointing to their ribs or shoulder, "is where you die if you don't learn."

They sparred in pairs, sometimes in trios. Ser Sedge watched all of it, correcting stances, adjusting grips, forcing left-handed boys to try right-handed techniques and vice versa. No one was spared. Everyone was expected to grow.

Levi found that swordsmanship was harder than spears. Spears were range and rhythm. Swords were chaos and reaction. But learned more too. those who decided not to bring armor got bruised and injured but not fatal enough to kill them just enough to make it hurt more.

The boys who had once joked and laughed during spear training grew quieter. Focused.

Jory still smiled, but only after a good match. when more came no smile came.

Lyle rarely spoke now unless to give advice. to evade to help hit.

Kell became even more nimble, dodging rather than blocking. hitting where it looked easy to hit.

Arl, the loud one, had his nose bloodied more than once but kept coming back to swing his sword at his training partner.

Munty was still silent but deadly, never losing his footing, even when pushed. He stood tall in such moments.

Afternoons were for survival.

Here, Ser Sedge let the swamp do most of the teaching.

"You want to live? You learn to listen."

They were taught to identify edible roots, how to boil water using hot stones and clay pots, how to catch frogs, snakes, and lizards without being bitten. They learned to smear mud over exposed skin to deter biting flies. They built temporary shelters from reeds and broad leaves.

Ser Sedge once led them into the marsh with no warning and told them to return before nightfall with something edible, something to start a fire, and proof they drank clean water. Those who failed had to sit in silence while the others ate.

Another day, he woke them before dawn and ordered them to track him through the swamps.

"You want to live? Then learn to see what's not there."

They tripped over roots, stepped into hidden sinkholes, and were bitten by insects so small they left welts the size of coins. But over time, they improved.

By the end of the first moon, they moved quieter. Slept lighter. Ate smarter.

By the second, they rarely stumbled.

By the third, they began teaching each other.

Levi watched it all. He kept notes at night on who learned fastest, who needed help, what foods worked best. His cheat engine couldn't help him here. This was learning the hard way.

And then, the season ended.

On a cloudy morning, Ser Sedge stood before them once more. They formed into their five lines: Jory's cheerful crew, Lyle's quiet minds, Kell's balanced pack, Arl's noisy band, and Munty's silent steel. Infront of all of them stood Levi. 

Ser Sedge looked over them, then finally nodded.

"You are not done," he said. "But you are trained. You know what it takes to listen. To fight. To survive."

He gestured to the swamps.

"Two season remains. Your last teacher he will be in the training field tomorrow. you will not get rest unlike last time. now go."

The boys didn't cheer. They didn't groan. They just nodded.

They were ready.

Levi looked at each of them, his comrades, now warriors in the making.

The next test would not be in swinging wood or marching straight.

It would be how to use a bow, to hunting and precision.