(Male protagonist's perspective)
The king sat on the steps and ordered wine. Then he turned to me.
"Who exactly is this Emre the Druid?"
"He claimed to be a priest of the Old Gods, and that he would come to help the wounded when we needed him. Last time, he single-handedly held off 2,000 Ironborn, defending Bear Island. Of course, I helped too, but Sith and I killed at most 200; the rest were slaughtered by him and his familiars. To thank me for my help, he gave me this sword."
A little white lie, a bit of exaggeration, is fine. After Lord Stark's swearing-in ceremony, I told him I was Emre the Druid. I still remember the shock and fear on his face for a moment, but as an experienced warrior and ruler, he quickly composed himself.
I don't care what the fat king thinks, as long as he doesn't get in my way. The moment I drew " Red Rain " from its sheath, everyone around me was filled with envy, especially Lord Tywin, who stared intently at the sword. Meanwhile, Yohn Royce said.
"Young knight, that sword wasn't given to you by Druid. It's Valyrian steel sword. They're family heirlooms, and if the Drumm Boy you slew didn't use it as a stake, knightly honor requires you to return it to the family that owns it."
"My lord, forgive my bluntness, but I am not a follower of the Seven. Even if the Southern Knights' Code is true, I don't care. How did the House Drumm acquire such a sword? Did they buy it? Did they win it with a stake?"
"I don't know how they got it, but that doesn't change the fact that it's a code of conduct for chivalry."
"My lord, you may not know, but I do. They obtained it by paying what they called the Iron Price '... They killed the previous master."
When I said that, Lord Royce seemed a little displeased, and he continued in a somewhat aggressive manner.
"They may not have followed the law or traditions, so they may be treacherous and despicable, but that doesn't mean we should be like them."
Just then, Hoster Tully intervened, speaking authoritatively.
"I agree with Lord Royce; we must be different from those scoundrels. If we return the sword, it will prove that we respect tradition and custom."
Those bastards, they're jealous of my sword, and that damned Hoster wants to gain prestige from my loss. I won't give up a magical sword because of those idiots' demands.
"My lord, you may wish to return it, but if we return it now, it will be used against us. Therefore, if you wish to do so, we should wait until the war is over, and if the House Drumm can withstand the test of war, I will return it personally."
It seems only two people understood the deeper meaning of my words. Lord Tywin and the King began to chuckle foolishly.
Two months passed while they waited for the Royal Fleet. A week earlier, Lord Stannis and Redwyne had defeated Euron Greyjoy's fleet in a fierce battle and were on their way here, but Euron Greyjoy slipped through their fingers like a slimy eel.
I haven't been idle during this time either. Drumm's other two sons died in unfortunate accidents. One was bitten by Viper, and the other poor soul was thrown off the Wall by a flock of Crow.
Besides, I had an epiphany in my magical research. Now, I can use my " Buff " on 20 people simultaneously, but it consumes three times the mana. Nevertheless, this will be very useful in the future, but I haven't been able to apply this concept to my healing magic. Thanks to it, I no longer have to waste half my mana to Buff my familiars and minions.
Earth magic is incredibly strong in this region. I think it's because there's a huge gold mine here. If I could transform into Im, I could get past the guards and enter the mine. I believe the magic concentration there would be even higher. But I still can't transform into a small animal.
Inside this Citadel, to gather intelligence more effectively, I bonded myself with two rats. I named the male " Wannian " and the female "Jilim." Wannian was an all-black rat. I mean, all-black, even its tail was black. Jilim, on the other hand, was reddish-brown. Its fur reminded me of Robb's curly hair.
Thanks to my bond with Wannian and Jilim, I gained elasticity and +1.5 speed. That's the elasticity of a rat. My joints are more flexible, and I feel like I can squeeze through many places like a rat. A month later, both rats started to speak a few words and each ruled over 60 rats. I had essentially invaded Casterly Rock. From the top room to the bottom room, I had them continue to investigate every corner of the Citadel. They searched under every stone and looked into every nook and cranny.
I came out of the Citadel because the lords were sullenly discussing how to deal with the Ironborn. Most of them didn't even intend to fight. While watching the sea with the Sith on the cliff, a group of people began to approach us. Leading them was a large man and a little boy.
This big guy had gray eyes and a large, pointed nose. But that wasn't his most striking feature; he had a huge burn scar on his left cheek. The boy was dressed in red and gold. He had green eyes, blond curly hair, and pouty lips. As a man, he looked somewhat effeminate.
Judging from his attire and entourage, it wasn't hard to guess who this annoying brat was. This must be the heir to the House Baratheon, and our future king Joffrey Baratheon. He glared at me with angry green eyes and a sneer. Good heavens, I really wanted to slap him.