Year 1 (255 AC)
I have to figure out how to lock away some memories.
Because why the fuck do I remember being born. It was so nasty, so bloody. So much screams and everything.
I was named Lucas by my mother, Lysa. Who turns out to be a whore. I'm a whoreson! The future insults and jokes are going to hit true.
I turned out to be a fine baby. With brown hair and bright red eyes that according to my mother shone like jewels.
Being a baby was very tiring but luckily I slept my way through most of it. I grew up in a brothel in a place called Wintertown. I tried to gather as much information as I could but in the end it made no difference since I could barely understand them.
Different language. Sounds like 10th century english mixed with modern day english to me but I've been learning.
Year 2
Two years past by and I finally have a basic understanding of where the fuck I am. This continent is called Westeros… get it because from the Eastern continent called Essos its to the west… so they named it Westeros… original.
This place is as feudal as it comes. For more than 8000 years still stuck in this era and they show no efforts to move on. Not my problem really. The royal family bound all the lands together with the power of dragons. Dragons existed and might still exist again if they manage to hatch the eggs.
Then they killed the dragons in a war for the throne. I still can't believe the stupidity but I don't care. I'm not a part of nobility. They can kill me for saying their name wrong.
Peasants learn to keep their head down most of the time. It is almost unheard of for a peasant to become a Lord.
I tried to learn how to read and write here but it is rare with the peasantry. Hardly anyone but the madam in charge of the books to the brothel can do it. So I tried approaching her and put on the cutest child behavior I noticed others doing and tried to get her to teach me.
I did not work.
Year 7
My mom seems to be trying to distance herself from me for some reason. It started ever since a particular customer started showing up. Showering her with gifts. Sometimes they go for rides together which are like dates for these people.
After snooping around I found out it was a third son of House Forrester. It turns out he fell in love with her and wants to take her as a paramour. She's a smart woman and if he finds out she has a son it probably won't happen.
I stayed out of her way after I got that information. Won't be the first child a washerwoman abandons for a better life.
Luckily she seems to still have a conscience. She paid for my apprenticeship with a Blacksmith in Winterfell the main castle walls. If anything I'm grateful for that for she could easily have just run off with her boy toy.
After that day I never saw her again. I packed up my belongings from the brothel and moved in with Master Godrick and his son and apprentice Mikken.
Year 12 (267 AC)
I have been watching the men at arms in Winterfell spar for years. Thanks to my ability to partition my brain I can work on my forging while going through the moves I've seen them perform.
The lord of Winterfell Lord Rickard Stark is the person I try to copy the most. At twelve years old I already stand at 5'7. Many… my master included are guessing I'll be a giant in the future which I agree. I plan to use my biokinesis to reach the height of 6'5 whilst keeping the fluidity and balance of shorter men. His style is sharp and aggressive leaving no space for a return.
My apprenticeship has born fruit. I figured out how to make stainless steel. I used my photographic memory to view a video I saw of its creation back in the day and recreated it. There were some ores imported from Skaagos that had many similarities to Titanium but here its called cold steel.
It wasn't really valued for making swords or armor as the did not have the right technique. But I do. I made the first useable Cold steel armor. It was more resistant to rust, weighed lighter than iron plates whilst still keeping its strengths.
When my master saw it he was very impressed with me but I couldn't take all the credit as I had much help from Mikken who helped me in the forging process. I asked him to please inform Lord Stark about the development. That it can be a good avenue for funds for us.
He agreed.
Lord Stark visited the smithy one day and we took our time to explain the discovery of this new type of plate armor. I told them it doesn't work so well as a sword tho.
We gifted him a full body armor made of cold steel to test out. A guard was ordered to wear it and check its performance. We received a stellar review as we made an armor that matches the much heavier iron armors but was much lighter.
The Valyrian Steel of Armors.
He was very pleased with it but then ordered us not to make more without his explicit permission and news about it should not be shared from us until his say so. He ordered ten suits of armor before he left and paid a good amount of gold for it.
I asked him if I could make armor for myself and myself only. He agreed since I was the creator but I should still not sell it without his permission. He then gave me 100 gold dragons for the discovery making me rich as fuck.
A peasant can live off 1 gold dragon for a year. 100 is like a king's ransom. I plan to buy myself a nice house in Wintertown which is about 22 gold dragons.
I'll finally have my privacy back and would be able to train to my heart's content. I already made plans to leave the North when I am 18 and wander the lands. With my talent becoming a landed knight is a high possibility.
An aspiring knight with a Valyrian steel sword amd shield with cold steel armor. I'll be the greatest they have ever seen.
Year 15 (270AC)
I joined the men at arms training in Winterfell when I was twelve. Soon word got out that they had a prodigy on their hands. I was taller than those my age. Stronger, faster. Better.
I was better and picked up stances, sword moves and tricks faster than thought possible. If I saw you use it once I could do it too. As years went by I picked up other skills such as spear wielding, dual wielding and arrows.
I remember the modern age range is always best. I created a modern flight bow although I called a Ravenbow. I remember it could be used in a range of over 1200m. In this world I might as well be a sniper cause no one has gotten killed from that range if not using magic or dragons.
Although I do not plan to sell this design out. Its for me and my future family only. I downplay its range effectiveness and use it only in the range of 100 meters to deadly accuracy but above that I intentionally hit bad shots.
Eventually I was allowed to go on rangings when this year started. Hunting wildings, bandits and outlaws who committed crimes against the North.
Wildlings are tough mother fuckers. They can survive in the deadly cold winds of beyond the wall making most of them hard men that can take you down with them.
My first kill was against one that was taller than me and looked way more intimidating with his animal skins for cloth and surprisingly steel axes. He cut down two of our men to create a chance for the rest of his people to escape.
Initially I planned to go after them but it was him we were after. He was quite infamous after all. Jeor Redbeard. One of the many descendants of the former king beyond the wall. Jeor had successfully stolen three high born women whilst murdering their guards.
Lord Stark wants us to put an end to him and his warband. Cut of the head of the snake and the body will fall.
I put an arrow in his shoulder and ribs before dismounting from my horse to battle him. Normally I would want to fight and honorable duel to the death but I can't afford to do that with him. He is way more experienced than me in battle regardless of all my skills.
Afterall training doesn't make have the raw instincts you need in a death battle. He removed the bolts and came at me. I parried his attacks with my shield before and struck with my blade. He dodged and kicked me off balance.
As I regained it he was already in me shoulder barging me into the snow. I scrambled back to my feet before a steel axe could connect with me on the ground. He started talking to me in what I assume to be the old tongue.
Probably insulting me and my ancestors. With the breathing room I pressed my attacks again telegraphing them perfectly. Redbeard held in for the onslaught but lost a bit of concentration which I punished him for by taking his one of his arms off.
Not giving any breathing space I shield barged into him before stabbing him in the head. I cut off his head to use as proof of the bounty. This fucker had 64 silver stags to his name in the North and I intend to collect.
The wildings scattered but only few escaped. After getting the bounty days later rumors of my prowess was making rounds in Wintertown. The guards told tales of the battle and gave me a moniker even.
Red Giant
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