When Erlic regain his consciousness, he felt cold, bone chilling cold weeping in his body.
He lay on hard plank bed covered by thin shabby fur blanket that reeked of mildew.
Freezing winds slipped through the crack of the window, stinking his skin.
Hiss....
Erlic sucked a deep breath and sat bolt upright.
"Damn the god." he muttered under his breath as a flood of memory surged into his mind.
"I... I Transmigrated."
Not in an unknown world but at the world of Game of throne, Westeros, The North, Ashwood family.
Timeline also should be exactly 2 years before King arrive at Winterfell.
"How did he end up here! Shouldn't he be a celebrating his promotion in the company.
Is the overwork and exhaustion finally caught up to him."
Erlic looked around.
It was a crude bedchamber.
On the wall hung a faded tapestry of the Ashwood sigil, an half ashen burned tree. One side burned while the other side tree with vitality.
Aside from the bed beneath him, the room only has one wooden table which could fall apart anytime.
According to his newly found memory, he is Erlin Ashwood, the last legal heir of the ancient and decayed noble house in the North.
His father old house head of Ashwood, died while hunting in the Wolfswood a month ago.
Now this dilapidated fortress called Ashen Keep, along with mediocre hill like land outside, all belong to him.
He was a commander without an army; being a squire at Torrhen's Square would not help him now.
"What a disastrous start…"
Erlic couldn't help but complain in his heart.
[Host's soul detected as stable. Strongest System is officially activated.]
[System aims to assist the Host to establish a strong house.]
A cold, mechanical voice rang in his mind.
A system?
Erlic's heart stirred.
[Fortune points can be used to exchange for technology and supplies.]
[Novice Mission Released: Internal Rectification.]
[Mission Objective: Clear out the vermin within the territory and establish lordly authority]
[Mission Reward: Novice Gift Pack x1.]
Erlic was stunned for a moment but quickly understood how this system worked.
Simple and crude, but very effective.
In this world, if you wanted to survive and live well, power was everything.
The foundations of power were armies, wealth, and marriage alliances.
And the system happened to cover the road more smoothly.
With the current Ashen Keep, which couldn't even scrape together a full squad of guards? Forget the daughter of House Stark of his dream, Even the girl from House Tallhart wouldn't look twice at him.
The urgent matter now was to complete this novice mission.
"Internal rectification..."
The first person Erlic thought of was that fat steward.
In his inherited memories, there was plenty of information about the steward named Hob.
When his father was alive, Hob held the finances and personnel of all Ashen Keep in his hands.
After his father died, he treated himself as the master of Ashen Keep even more.
The original Erlic had a weak personality and obeyed him implicitly, not even knowing how much grain was in his own warehouse.
But now, the person inside this body had changed.
Knock, knock.
The sound of knocking echoed.
"My Lord, are you awake?"
An aged voice asked from outside the door.
"Come in."
The door opened, and a gray-haired, thin old servant entered carrying a wooden tray.
On the tray, there was only a piece of black bread and a bowl of clear water.
This was the breakfast of a Northern Lord.
"Reiner" Erlic called out the old servant's name, "Is this all the food left in the castle?"
Reiner was an old-timer of Ashen Keep, having served two generations of Ashwood Head- A bastard son of his great-grandfather, he was one of the few in the castle still loyal to the family.
Hearing Erlic's question, a flash of sorrow appeared in Rein's cloudy eyes.
"My Lord, Steward Hob said that the harvest was poor this year and we must ration the grain, otherwise we won't make it through the winter."
Hob again.
Erlic picked up the piece of black bread, which could have been used as a brick, and gave a cold laugh.
Poor harvest?
The land under Ashwood wasn't fertile, but it shouldn't have reached this state.
In his memory, that fat steward had a whole roast chicken and ale for dinner every night.
"I see."
Alaric didn't say much more, calmly gnawing on the bread.
Reiner looked at the new lord, wanting to say something but ultimately refraining.
Finally, he sighed and turned to leave.
"Reine," Alaric stopped him, "Who is the Captain of the Guard now?"
"It's... it's Steward Hob's nephew, Little Hobert," Reine answered in a low voice.
"Very well."
Erlic nodded and said no more.
This Hob really knew how to play the game of nepotism.
Not long after Reine left, the door was pushed open again.
This time, there wasn't even a knock.
A fat man walked in, wearing expensive clothes that fit him poorly, a fake smile plastered on his greasy face.
It was indeed Steward Hob.
A hidden depth of anger rose in Erlic heart. This bastard exactly like his boss in Earth.
"Oh, my dear little Erlic, you're finally out of bed."
Hob's tone was full of the concern, like an elder shows for a junior.
"Young people shouldn't always sleep in. As a lord, you must set an example for your subjects."
As he spoke, he unceremoniously sat down on the only chair in the room, which immediately let out an overburdened creak.
Erlic looked at him without speaking.
The fat man before him was exactly like the insatiably greedy in his memories.
"It's like this, My Lord."
Seeing Erlic remain silent, Hob continued on his own.
"The castle's warehouse needs repairs, and the guards armour should be replaced. All of this requires money. But as you know, our Ashen Keep... sigh..."
He let out a hypocritical sigh.
"So, I suggest selling that woodland to the east to Lord Glover of Deepwood Motte. They've offered 50 Gold Dragons, which is enough to solve our current difficulties."
That woodland was one of the few valuable assets left to House Ashwood. More than that, it formed the only viable eastern border with House Glover. Ringed by low hills, it was a natural barrier, one that had shielded Ashwood lands from invasion for generations.
Once sold, Ashen Keep would stand naked to the east.
House Glover had already been sending men to provoke them, testing patrols, pressing claims—clear signs they meant to seize that land outright. A letter, a staged coup, the quiet removal of House Ashwood's leadership—any such pretext would allow the Glovers to swallow the entire territory. If that happened, he would be the first offered up, his head sent north as proof of compliance.
Hob, for the sake of lining his own pockets, would sell ancestral land and betray the house without hesitation.
"I have noted the matter," Erlic said, his expression unreadable.
"Gather everyone in the castle for a meeting in the Great Hall. This includes guards, servants, and all registered commoners. Not a single person should be missing."
Hob was stunned for a moment.
He hadn't expected this always obedient youth to suddenly give such an order today.
A meeting? What did he want to do?
However, Hob soon steadied himself.
It was fine; he could use the opportunity to finalise the sale of the land in front of everyone. What could a green boy possibly do to turn the tide?
"As you command, my Lord."
Hob's face was piled with smiles, but his heart was full of disdain.
He turned and left with light steps, as if he could already see the 50 Gold Dragons beckoning to him.
"But little did he knows, his word deeply angered Erlic.