NOVEL NEXT Chapter 8: First Encounter!
Himmel couldn't contain his excitement. This was it—the first step toward encountering the people of this world. He returned to his apartment, adjusted his backpack one last time, and stepped into the North of Westeros once more. His destination: the small village he had spotted in the distance.
As he approached, Himmel took in the sight of the settlement. It was a small fortress-like village, encircled by a two-meter-high stone wall. The wooden houses inside were clustered together, a defensive necessity in a harsh land.
The entrance was a sturdy wooden gate, with a small side door wide enough for one person to pass through. Such construction wasn't just for keeping wild animals at bay. Here in the North, it was just as crucial to guard against the wildlings who occasionally ventured south of the Wall to raid.
Himmel's arrival didn't go unnoticed. A group of children, dressed in ragged animal skins and threadbare tunics, caught sight of him. Their faces, streaked with dirt and flushed from the cold, froze in fear. Without hesitation, they scattered like startled deer, disappearing through the small door.
The sudden clamor startled Himmel. Before he could process what had happened, a bell began to ring from within the village. The once-quiet settlement erupted into chaos.
Villagers appeared along the walls, armed with pitchforks, axes, and whatever else they could grab. Their faces were etched with panic as they peered over the edge of the stone barriers at Himmel.
"Am I really that intimidating?" Himmel muttered, scratching his nose awkwardly.
The villagers' alarm slowly subsided as they realized he was alone. Their wariness, however, remained. Faces stared down at him from behind the wall, their expressions a mix of fear and awe.
The small door creaked open, and an elderly man with gray hair hobbled out. He leaned heavily on a wooden staff, his movements slow but deliberate. His weathered face, lined with years of hardship, was marked by apprehension as he stopped several meters away from Himmel.
"Milord," the old man began, his voice shaky but respectful, "to what do we owe the honor of your visit? If it is taxes you seek, our tribute has already been sent to Winterfell."
At first, Himmel had worried about a potential language barrier, but as the man spoke, a strange sensation washed over him. Knowledge of Westerosi tongues flooded his mind, a gift from the mysterious force that allowed him to traverse between worlds.
He understood every word.
The old man clearly mistook him for a noble. Himmel glanced at his own modern clothing—clean, pristine, and entirely out of place in the North. Compared to the villagers' rough, dirt-streaked garments, he must have looked like someone of high status.
"Well," Himmel thought, "if they think I'm a noble, I might as well roll with it."
"I'm Himmel," he announced, his voice steady and authoritative. "I've come to learn about the lands around here. Tell me, what is this village called, and how far is Winterfell from here?"
The old man shifted uneasily but answered quickly. "Milord, this is the village of Pine Hollow. I am Gena, the village elder. Winterfell is about ten leagues south of here. If you follow the road, you'll reach it by sunset."
Satisfied, Himmel reached into his backpack and pulled out a loaf of bread, offering it to the elder. "For your help," he said simply.
The old man's eyes widened in disbelief as he took the bread with trembling hands. "Thank you, Milord," he stammered, his voice cracking with emotion.
Himmel nodded and turned to leave. Behind him, he could hear the villagers murmuring, their voices filled with awe and gratitude.
"May the Old Gods bless him," the elder whispered.
Himmel pressed onward, his heart pounding as Winterfell came into view.
The ancient stronghold of House Stark loomed on the horizon, its gray stone walls standing tall against the open sky. From this distance, it resembled a sleeping giant, its silhouette stark and imposing.
As Himmel neared the city, the path became busier. Farmers, traders, and laborers traveled toward Winterfell, their carts piled high with goods. A few herders struggled to keep their livestock in line, their pigs and sheep causing occasional traffic jams along the road.
Himmel adjusted the straps of his backpack and quickened his pace. The world of Westeros was beginning to unfold before him, and he was determined to make his mark.
This was just the beginning.
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Let's reach the top of either power stone or collection, let's gooooooo~ 🥳
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