A week ago, seeing that number—2,000 MP—would have made his heart race. It was enough to buy a Tier 3 unit or a significant attribute upgrade. In the early days, when he was scraping for points just to survive the Wolfswood, he might have schemed, manipulated, and charmed his way into Catelyn's bed without a second thought.
But now?
He glanced at the [Current Balance] in the top right corner: 9,224 MP.
The massive injection of points from the Level 2 Sovereign Bond with Roslin had fundamentally changed his economy. He wasn't a beggar anymore; he was a tycoon.
His gaze drifted back to the mission objective, and a look of cold distaste curled his lip.
Catelyn Stark.
The woman was a walking disaster.
In his memories of the original timeline—and in the intelligence he had gathered in this one—she was the catalyst for the House's ruin. It was Catelyn who had impulsively arrested Tyrion Lannister based on Littlefinger's lies, igniting a war the North wasn't ready for. It was Catelyn who would likely release Jaime Lannister in a fit of grief, trading a Kingslayer for empty promises, undermining her own son's authority.
She was ruled by emotion, easily manipulated by her childhood friend Petyr Baelish, and possessed a stubbornness that often masqueraded as wisdom.
And she's not even that beautiful, Alaric thought ruthlessly, comparing her mental image to the soft, devoted warmth of Roslin in his arms or the blooming, high-destiny radiance of Sansa in the capital. Catelyn was a fading beauty, hardened by years of looking down on him as "the ward," the boy with no name and no future.
"Trouble," he muttered under his breath. "Just useless trouble."
Sleeping with her wouldn't just be a chore; it would be a strategic error.
If Sansa ever found out—and with the heightened perception of the passives, she might—it would shatter the [Sovereign Bond] he had cultivated with her.
Catelyn was just... baggage.
Besides, the [All Black: The Death Tax] ability he had just unlocked offered a much more direct path to power.
Why waste time seducing a grieving old women for a payout I don't need, when I can earn power by slaughtering Lannisters?
With a mental flick, Alaric selected the mission.
[Decline Mission?]
Warning: This mission will permanently vanish.
"Good riddance," Alaric thought.
[Mission Declined.]
The golden text shattered into digital dust and vanished. Alaric felt a strange sense of relief. He didn't need to play the game of seducing the mother. He had the army, he had the points, and he had the girl who actually mattered.
"My lord?"
Roslin's sleepy voice broke his concentration. She shifted, looking up at him with half-open eyes. "You feel... tense. Is it the scouts?"
Alaric looked down at her. Her cheeks were flushed from the warmth of the cloak, her hair mussed against his chest. She looked soft, vulnerable, and entirely his.
"No, Rose," Alaric said, his voice dropping to that low rumble that seemed to vibrate through her. "Just clearing out some old clutter from my head. Deciding what's worth keeping and what's trash."
Roslin settled back against him, her breathing evening out as she drifted back into a light sleep. Alaric exhaled, the tension in his shoulders loosening. He had made the choice, and the mission was gone.
He expected silence. He expected the interface to dim and return to the background logistics of the march.
Instead, a violent, high-pitched shatter sound echoed in his skull—not the usual soft ping of a notification, but the sound of glass breaking.
Alaric flinched, his hand instinctively tightening on the reins, causing his warhorse to toss its head.
[SYSTEM ALERT: HIDDEN PARAMETER MET]
The blue screen didn't just pop up; it exploded into existence, vibrating with a platinum-colored border he had never seen before.
"What the..." Alaric muttered, staring at the floating text.
[Achievement Unlocked: The King's Discernment]
Trigger: The Host has voluntarily rejected a High-Value Mission based on strategic foresight and personal distaste, rather than succumbing to lust or point-greed.
[System Analysis of Rejected Target: Catelyn Stark]
Hidden Trait Revealed: The Mother of Calamity.
Description: This target possesses a dormant "Tragedy Aura." Her decisions are historically calibrated to bring ruin to House Stark.
The Trap: The mission "The Matriarch's Submission" was a System Test.
Consequence of Acceptance: Had the Host completed the mission, the rewards would have been granted, but the Host would have contracted the permanent debuff: [Grief's Shadow].
Effect of [Grief's Shadow]: -50 to Luck. -30 to Strategic Clarity. High probability of betrayal by close allies.
Alaric stared at the screen, his mouth slightly ajar.
"You have to be kidding me," he whispered, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck that had nothing to do with the Northern wind.
The System had baited him. It had dangled 2,000 MP like a carrot, using his future mother in law to see if he was foolish enough to bite a poisoned apple. If he were still the starving ward from the beginning, he might have done it. And it would have ruined everything.
New text scrolled down, showing the reward for passing the test.
[Reward for Rejecting the "Trap" Mission]
Monarch Points: +2,500 MP (Includes a 500 MP bonus).
New Trait:[The Unclouded Eye]
Description: You can now see the "Calamity Potential" of others. The System will highlight people who are bad luck or walking disasters with a red aura.
Reputation Update: The System recognizes you have moved from "Conqueror" to "Sovereign." A King does not sleep with every woman just because he can; he only chooses those who improve his dynasty.
[Current Balance: 11,724 MP]
Alaric let out a short, dark laugh.
So she really is a curse, he thought. Even the System thinks she is radioactive.
He looked down at Roslin, who was safe and held a "High Destiny." Then he thought of Sansa, the key to the North. He had made the right choice. He had chosen power and loyalty over a walking disaster.