The night sky stretched across the horizon, unobscured by skyline or smog. The stars shone like bright jewels, the close nearby planets indistinguishable from the far too distant suns to the naked eye. This was nothing but an imitation, Momonga knew. As artificial as anything else to be seen in YGGDRASIL. Yet that did not bother him much. This imitation had value its own way.
For no one on earth would ever look upon the stars again. The only way to witness their beauty was to see them in simulations.
"Is something the matter, Momonga?"
"Just admiring Blue Planet's handiwork, Punitto Moe."
The walking mass of Death Vines teleported to the forest outside the sixth floor's amphitheater. White and gold priestly robes covered Punitto Moe's green plant-like body.
"That Romanticist is at work on his artificial sky." Punitto mused. "When did he start working on it again?"
"He never stopped."
"Pardon?" A confused emoji popped up above Punitto's avatar.
"He never stopped working on it," Momonga said again. "All of these years, he's never stopped working. Not on the sky or the forest here on the sixth floor."
That seemed to give the strategist of Ainz Ooal Gown pause.
"You ought to scold him for that," Punitto said pointedly. "This isn't exactly free. It's a drain on the guild's resources."
"No drain at all, I assure you." Momonga chuckled. "I am giving him resources I have personally gathered, so the guild's coffers are intact."
"That must be hours of grinding." A frowning face went up above the strategist's avatar. "Doesn't the Guildmaster have anything better to spend his time on?"
"He really cares about this stuff," Momonga sent up a smiling emoji. "It makes him happy. As Guildmaster, I don't mind spending the time helping him out. Especially with the result being the improvement of Nazarick."
"He is passionate, I won't argue against that." Punitto audibly sighed. "But I find it all frivolous and excessive."
"I will keep that in mind," Momonga said. "In any case, why did you call me here Punitto Moe?"
"I wanted you to help me with an experiment."
Momonga only nodded. That wasn't all too strange a request. Punitto had long been involving Momonga in experiments since the time when two of them had been part of Nine Ooal Gown. No, maybe even before the two of them had been part of any guild. It was just how long they had known each other.
"Take a look at these."
Punitto began taking dozens of items out of his inventory. So many, that Punitto simply let them fall to the floor harmlessly. Momonga quickly noted they were simply multiples of the same item and tried remembering its name.
"The Horn of the Goblin General." Punitto supplied.
"How did you get so many of them?" Momonga inquired "They have a pretty bad drop rate from what I remember."
"I didn't think you would be impressed. Ulbert thought I was wasting my time on a 'trash' item."
"I guess that means you went to him first, huh." Momonga made an exasperated gesture of being hurt. Though it probably looked more comical with his skeleton avatar. He threw up a crying emoji just for good measure.
"I was merely being thorough," Punitto said, his hand raised diplomatically.
"How so?"
"The reason I was able to gather so many horns. One of our rival guilds has recently begun a large farming operation for these items."
Meaning that Punitto had gotten them from that operation. Momonga was instantly put on alert at the words.
"Although the guild gives you a lot of freedom to act independently, Punitto Moe," Momonga said warily.
"...you didn't start a war, did you?"
Punitto snickered. "I would be foolish to do that while Nazairck is unprepared for war."
That was true enough. The loot gathered from defeating the Union of Eight Guild had been plentiful, filling Ainz Ooal Gown's coffers to overcapacity. But even with all the loot, Nazarick had yet to fully replenish its forces from the attack. Since it wasn't just a matter of having resources to do so.
Several members of the Ainz Ooal Gown had stopped playing after the invasion. The defeat of the Eight Guilds was seen as the height of YGGDRASIL for them. After that, some of them didn't see the point of continued playing. The battle against the Eight Guilds was seen as the Grand Finale, and nothing that came after really mattered to them.
So, it was left to Momonga the Guildmaster, to martial up whatever guild members were willing to rebuild Nazarick. And there was plenty of work to do. The invasion itself never managed to get past the eighth floor but that didn't mean that there wasn't a massive amount of damage.
"Yes. I know that you have never been one for such aggressive actions." Momonga said.
"Instead, I outsourced all of the dirty work."
"…say what now?"
"Why do the dirty work, when I could just hire others to do it for me?"
"…oh ok." Is what Momonga said. Mostly because he had no idea what else to say.
"That is what the gold I took out of the treasury yesterday was for."
Momonga honestly thought Punitto was just going to buy an item at an auction or something. Apparently not.
"So, you paid someone outside the guild to attack the farm?" Momonga asked. "Wouldn't the other party be able to trace it back to Nazarick?"
Punitto shook his plant head. "I was being discrete. No one will be able to track it back to us."
"Well, I don't know why I am surprised." Momonga threw up a shrugging emoji. "This sounds exactly like something you would do."
"An aggressive action has its potential uses," Punitto said. "But in this case, I kept on the side of caution."
Momonga merely nodded. Punitto Moe had always been a cautious player. As the guild's strategist, he had advised a strategy of restraint in the aftermath of the battle with the Eight Guilds. That was something Momonga resented his old friend for doing. At least for a time.
After the miserable defeat of the Union of Eight Guilds, the morale of every member of Ainz Ooal Gown had peaked. After confirming the annihilation of the invading force, they had all met to discuss what to do next. Many a member, called for aggressive action. Launch an immediate counterraid. Strike at the enemy while they are down. Attack and loot their guild bases before they can properly form a defense. And it seemed like they would do it.
And then Punitto spoke. His words immediately brought the members of Ainz Ooal Gown to reality. Pointing out how much time each member had spent grinding for resources for the defenses of Nazarick. That going out would deplete their defenses and even if they were successful, they would come back to an empty guild base.
Momonga had felt bitterness towards Punitto for speaking when he did. After his words, some guild members felt that they had reached the end of the game. They were all max level and their guild had defeated one of the biggest player alliances ever formed in the history of the game. What else was there to do? What could top that?
Momonga sometimes wondered what would have happened if Punitto hadn't said what he did. He wondered if it would have been better if Ainz Ooal Gown suffered a defeat. If the guild had been humbled and thus had a reason to keep logging on and playing the game. Momonga had originally believed that Nazarick was a worthy sacrifice so that the guild could stay together. It was just a guild base after all.
But over time, Momonga realized Punitto was right. He realized that Nazarick wasn't just a guild base. It was the pinnacle of all that Ainz Ooal Gown achieved and it should be kept safe and preserved. That it wasn't worth sacrificing the 'Legacy' of the Guild for what was ultimately a selfish wish on Momonga's part.
Thus, after the invasion, Ainz Ooal Gown had only partaken in limited counter raids. There were numerous smaller attacks on Nazarick following the large invasion. Adding more credence to Punitto's caution. That's when the guild's numbers first began dwindling.
Momonga could only watch helplessly as Ainz Ooal Gown began to stagnate and decline. He blamed Punitto for a time but soon realized it was no one's fault. That it had been inevitable as soon as the Guild formed.
"That still leaves the question of why they were gathering this 'trash' item," Momonga said. He quickly steered his thoughts back to the matter at hand.
"That was the mystery I called you here to solve."
Punitto took one of the horns. The item disappeared to indicate it had been used. A platoon of goblins spawned nearby.
"They're not high level enough for anything other than buying time. The only thing I could think of was a hidden effect that only a few knew about."
Momonga nodded. It was possible and had even happened before with other seemingly 'trash' items.
"I want you to try using some of the horns."
Momonga sent up a question mark. "The result will be the same won't it?"
"That's why I want you to try with some of your skills and spells active. You have more than I do, and we might get lucky."
They began their experiments. Going through many of Momonga's skills and magic. Each time using an item to check its effects. But the experiments were a failure. Nothing they tried seemed to trigger the seemingly elusive effect of the item, much to Punitto's disappointment.
"I could call someone else to help you, Punitto Moe." Momonga offered.
"No that's fine. Maybe I am just obsessed with it because it's goblins." Punitto said as he took the remainder of the horns and returned them to his inventory.
"Oh, I suppose you do use goblins a lot as summons." Momonga mused. "Is there a specific reason?"
"No, just aesthetics. I'd like to think of them as fellow forest dwellers."
"Aesthetics, huh," Momonga said, bemused. "Aren't you the one who said that you find it all 'frivolous and excessive'."
"But that doesn't take into account one thing, Guildmaster."
"And what is that Master Strategist?"
"That I am quite the hypocrite."
"Ned. Ned. NED"
He awoke to being shaken. Eddard's father stood above him, hands on his shoulders.
"You're alive…"
Eddard thought that it was a strange thing to say. Especially coming from his Lord Father.
"Yes. I was only asleep, father." Eddard said the only thing he could think of in response.
Rickard Stark let go of him, before taking a step back. As if to get the whole measure of the room. He looked to the goblet at Eddard's bedside, before picking it up to inspect.
"You drink this?" He asked.
"Yes."
"Who gave it to you?"
"Maester Walys. He said it will help me sleep better."
The Lord of Winterfell frowned. Eddard could not imagine how he had displeased his Lord Father. He had answered all his quarries promptly and without delay. Just as he had been taught was appropriate for a son of House Stark. At least, according to the books he read.
"Eddard!"
The voice came along with rushing footsteps from the hallway. The figure that came through the door was just as tall as his father. Rodrik Stark, his grandfather, although not on his father's side looked just as worried as his father had been.
"Oh."
The Older Stark seemed to come to a stop at seeing Eddard.
"Are you alright?!" Rodrik resumed his gait and held Eddard by his shoulders.
Eddard was merely confused. This was the second time someone had held him by his shoulders.
"Yes, Grandfather. I was merely sleeping."
That only seemed to worry his grandfather more. He turned to father questionably.
"Was the grey rat lying?" His grandfather asked.
"I don't know." His father passed the goblet to his grandfather.
Rodrik Stark took the goblet to his nose. "He wasn't lying."
His father turned to look at Eddard. "Then how is he..."
The two men went to the corner of Eddard's chamber to talk amongst themselves. Eddard felt bad about being able to hear them, one of his many curses. But even after trying to eavesdrop, he could follow neither man's words. He had no clue what they were talking about as they went on about Citadels and plots and poison.
So instead, Eddard turned his thoughts to his most recent dream. Despite the dream being rather vivid, whenever Eddard woke, he could only remember small bits and pieces.
He had been dreaming such dreams for as long as he could remember. At first, he had thought nothing of the dreams. But then, one day, his father had brought magic casters to Winterfell. No, not magic casters. That was in his dreams. His father brought Hedge Wizards and Woods Witches to court.
Eddard quickly recognized that some of the spells they used as same ones from his dreams. He had then wondered if he would be able to use magic as well. Although some of the spells they used were completely foreign, the fact that he recognized at least some of them was a good sign. That is when he had asked his father if he could learn how to use magic as well.
Rickard Stark had been enthusiastic for Eddard to learn about magic. His mother was less so. They had gone into the Wolfswood the day after. To a circle of Weirwood trees where Eddard's grandmother, Arya, had promised to learn if Eddard had the potential for magic. But things did not go well.
Eddard still did not quite understand what happened. But they all seemed warier when around him afterward. Especially his mother.
"Eddard."
His father's voice brought him out of his thoughts.
"What will you be doing today?" His father asked.
"I am to meet Mara at the southern fields this morning and help her tend to the crops," Eddard answered immediately. "Then I am to go to sword practice with Ser Rodrik. Then in the evening, I have lessons with Maester Walys."
His father only nodded. "Walys will no longer be teaching you anything. Your mother will be teaching all your lessons for the time being."
That was rather strange. His mother's lessons had only ever been concerning Northern History or the Old Gods. While Maester Walys taught everything else.
"Why?" Eddard asked.
"Walys… passed away this morning."
"Oh."
Eddard supposed that Bran or Theo or any other his age would have felt sadness for the Maester. Whatever Eddard had felt on the matter, disappeared as soon as it appeared.
"In any case, you should get changed and ready." His Grandfather spoke, still standing in the corner of the room. "Your father and I will accompany you to the fields."
The two turned and left the room. Leaving him to change out of his night attire.
He changed into something that was easily cleaned. Eddard had once heard the servants complain about him getting mud on his formal clothes and how hard it was to clean. So outside of actual formal events, Eddard never again wore the nice clothes that were sent to him from White Harbor.
His father and grandfather were wearing cloaks. So, it must have been cold outside, even though it was summer. But the cold had never bothered him as it seemed to bother everyone else. So, Eddard didn't bother to wear his own cloak.
Having finished preparing for the day, he went to leave his chamber. Opening the door, he found someone standing in the hallway.
"Good morning, Hullen." He greeted.
The Guard of Winterfell smiled. "Good morning, Lord Eddard."
"Did you need something?"
"No, little lord. It's just that your Lord Father ordered that the guard be doubled in the main household."
"Oh, alright."
"They are waiting for you near the stables."
Eddard merely nodded. "Thank you. I'll see you later Hullen."
Eddard rushed through the hallways of Winterfell. The guards were less wary of him than the servants. Most of them he even knew by name, and the good one only had smiles for him. Waving at other guards he saw, Eddard made his way to the bailey in front of the great hall.
His father and grandfather were already mounted along with a dozen guards.
A stable hand had also brought out a horse for Eddard. It was a large black stallion.
Under normal circumstances, Eddard would not be able to ride such a large horse. Even more so, no one would ever allow him to ride anything larger than a pony as Brandon and Theo did. But Eddard always had a talent for horseback riding.
Or to be clearer. Horses, no matter how big or how wild, were absolutely terrified of him. Much like the servants of Winterfell were.
As Eddard approached, the Black Stallion became quiet. It had been unruly in the stable boy's hand not a moment earlier. But as soon as Eddard got neared, it went deathly still. As if too afraid to make a noise. Eddard put a foot upon the high stirrup and pulled himself onto the tall horse. The saddle was specifically designed to accommodate his rather small height.
"You ever name that horse of yours?" His grandfather asked.
"Blackmane," Eddard answered.
"Ah, Blackmane, so original." Rodrik Stark made a show of rolling his eyes.
"Nothing like Starlight here." His grandfather patted the head of his own white horse. "What do you say to race, Ned?"
Eddard raised a brow. "Blackmane is the fastest horse in Winterfell."
"Oh, we will see about that." His grandfather grinned. "How about from the gate to Cregan's Point on the King's Road?"
Eddard nodded in affirmation. They both led their horses to the opened gate and stopped just before it.
"Go!"
Despite the excitement of the initial of the start. Eddard and his grandfather could go no faster than a canter. Winterfell was filled with people and there were three more gates before they even left the castle complex. Eventually, they came before the main gate to leave Winterfell. There were no more people blocking their way and his grandfather immediately spurred his horse into a gallop. Eddard followed suit immediately after.
Just as the two of them came out of the main gate, Rodrik Stark spurred his horse in a full sprint and Eddard wanted to follow. Instead, he brought Blackmane to a complete stop. There was a moat just outside the gate. Normally there would be a draw bridge lowered to allow horses to cross the moat, but it was raised.
That did not seem to deter Rodrik Stark. His horse went faster and faster before jumping. Clearing the entire moat in a single leap. While Eddard came to a stop in front of the guards near the drawbridge. Watching as his grandfather rode away.
"You always lower the bridge early in the morning." Eddard pointed out. He had not bet on the bridge being raised.
"Forgive me, my Lord." The guard bowed. "Lord Rodrik just asked us to raise the bridge. We didn't know the two of you would be racing."
"We will lower it for you right away." Another guard said.
That would take too long. Eddard instead turned the horse and circled back to the gate. If his grandfather was going to cheat, then anything was fair game.
"[Silent Cast: Lesser Strength]"
Eddard cast the spell on Blackmane. The spell had been taught to him by Mara the Witch. Although it was much more like re-learning the spell than learning it from nothing. The silent cast however was something strictly from his dreams. Eddard had not even told his father about it.
Eddard spurred Blackmane forward. It charged forward. From gallop to sprint in an instant. The extra strength propelled the horse faster than normal. When they reached the moat, Blackmane did not need to jump. Clearing it in a single long gait.
They only began closing the distance from there. Going faster than any horse had any right to. Within moments, they had destroyed Rodrik Stark's massive lead. As he came up beside his grandfather, Eddard let the spell dissipate. He had faith in Blackmane and saw no need for such an advantage now that the contest was fair again.
Rodrik Stark was wide-eyed upon seeing them emerge beside him. His previously relaxed posture changed. His grandfather stood up and leaned forward in the saddle. Clearly taking the race much more seriously. And he needed to, as Eddard was fully intent on winning.
They rode side by side, any closer, and their horses might have collided with each other. They could see the wooden post marking Cregan's Point in the distance. It was the place where Cregan Stark had gathered his army before marching south. It sat on a rather unremarkable piece of road between Winterfell and nearby Wintertown in the distance.
Blackmane had the advantage. Quickly they gained the lead. But it was by a small margin and Rodrik was barely behind by half afoot. They came upon the wooden post quickly. In the final moment, Rodrik closed the distance even further, mere portions of afoot. But it wasn't enough to snatch victory.
Both riders crossed the post almost simultaneously. Eddard patted Blackmane and slowly brought it to a stop. His grandfather did the same from beside him.
Mara was standing in the wheat field beside the road. "The dust trail could be seen for miles, my lords."
"It's my victory," Rodrik said with a wide smile on his face. "Don't you agree, Ned?"
"Blackmane came first, Grandfather." Eddard's smile, for a moment, was just as wide.
"You decide the contest then." Rodrik Stark pointed at Mara. "Who won the race?"
Mara smiled. "I am afraid the Young Lord won the race."
Rodrik Stark clicked his tongue before turning and riding away. "Damn Wood's Witch."
Eddard brought his feet out of the stirrups before jumping clear off Blackmane.
"Good morning, Mara." He greeted.
"Good morning, little lord." She smiled at him. "We only have four fields for you today."
Eddard nodded. He took the reins of Blackmane and tied the stallion to the wooden post. He then followed Mara as they went into the wheatfields. They came upon a field of barely grown sprouts, still green and close to the ground.
"Go ahead, little lord."
"[Fast Growth]"Eddard cast loudly.
The spell was not in any of his dreams. It was one of few he learned for the first time from Mara and the other wizards.
The spell took effect immediately. The wheat went through months of growth in mere moments. Previously it hugged the ground, shuddering from the cold, now it was tall and completely golden in color.
When the display, Mara audibly sighed. "You never stop to amaze me, little lord."
"You and the others can do the same thing." Eddard pointed out.
"Hardly." Mara snickered. "It would take two dozen of us to cover the same field. And we would then have to keep casting for days to do what you just did."
She sighed again. "Besides. When we use the spell, it depletes the health of the soil. When you use it, no such thing happens."
From what Eddard could tell from his dreams, the problem was mana. The spell, [Fast Growth] was meant to be a much more powerful spell than Mara and the others could handle. Even when they pour all their mana into the spell, they still didn't have enough to complete the spell, so it comes out imperfect.
He had tried to explain this to them as best he could. But they did not seem to even understand the concept of mana.
"Come on, only three more fields," Mara said.
Eddard walked along with Mara to the next field. But out of the corner of his eye, he could see that his father and the guard had arrived. They had not raced, merely cantering out of Winterfell. Rodrik Stark rode up to meet them, along with the Steward of the Winterfell, Lord Torrhen Poole. Although they were so far away from him, Eddard's curse allowed him to hear every word they said when he tried to listen.
"How goes the harvest Torrhen?" Rickard Stark asked.
"Excellent, my lord." Torrhen Poole reports. "Your lordly son sows the field faster than our farmers can reap them. There has been so much yield, that the farmers have even asked for a reprieve."
"A break from collecting the harvest. Here in the north?" Rodrik Stark chuckled. "I guess there is a first time for everything."
"Will there be enough?" Rickard asked.
"Your lordly son has been hard at work the past few weeks," Torrhen says. "Even by our largest estimate. The harvest will be more than sufficient."
Sufficient for what? Eddard used the spell on the next field. But he was more focused on the conversation.
"Sufficient for what?" Rodrik Stark's question brought hope for Eddard that he might understand something from the conversation.
"You don't know, Lord Rodrik?" Torrhen asked. "There have been failed harvests all over the North. White Harbor, Karhold, the Dreadfort, the Rills, Barrowton, and many other holds. All have reported failed harvests. The Winterfell harvest will be enough to cover the shortage."
"It's the summer for Old Gods' sake!" Rodrik exclaimed. "How could so many harvests have failed?!"
"Simple." Rickard Stark said. "They all tried to increase yield through magic. They all brought Hedge Wizards into their courts in imitation of my own actions. And now all their harvests have failed."
"They must have had extra from last year. The increase in yield should have given them enough." Rodrik said warily.
"Some of them do," Rickard said. "But most sold their extra yield to the nearest peddler with gold to buy it."
"Fools!" Rodrik shouted. "Haven't they learned to keep enough for winter? Now they will starve at the height of summer"
"Indeed," Rickard said. "But this gives our House an ample opportunity."
That gave Rodrik Stark pause. "Opportunity? Opportunity for what? What are you scheming Rickard?!"
Eddard moved on to the next field. He did not know why his grandfather began shouting. Couldn't he see that it was a good thing? The North would not starve because of Eddard's magic. That was a good thing, wasn't it?
"Peace Goodfather. I only meant that the Lords of the North now have only one place to turn to. They must begin relying on Winterfell for their needs. They will have no other choice."
"And what price will they pay for this reliance?" Rodrik asked voice laced with fury.
"I will ask only for their loyalty," Rickard said. "Something I am already entitled to. And if they ever think of betraying me, they will bite the very hand that feeds them."
"This is the last field, little lord." Mara's voice brought Eddard back to the task at hand. Turning his thoughts away from the conversation in the distance. A conversation he barely understood in the first place.
"[Fast Growth]"
The fourth green field turned to gold in front of his very eyes.
"That's it for this morning."
"Is it true that the other harvests failed, Mara?" He looked up at Woods Witch.
"Yes, little lord." She nodded. "People are coming here from all over the North. They tell the same story. So many that Wintertown is now overcrowded. It's why we have the labor to harvest your crops after you grow them."
"Wintertown is overcrowded?"
Eddard couldn't imagine what it looked like. The town was nearly empty except for a few running shops and merchants. Though his mother told him that it would fill up in Winter.
"So overcrowded that people have begun living in tents outside the town," Mara said.
Eddard was dejected. "I wish I could help them somehow."
"You've helped them enough already. They are not your responsibility." Mara said. "Leave the rest to your Lord Father."
"Now. That's enough of that." Mara changed topics. "My husband brought me to fields this morning. But he will be spending the day in Wintertown selling herbs. So do you mind giving a ride back to Winterfell?"
"Of course, Mara."
The two of them walked towards the post where Blackmane was tied. Eddard could hear the furious shouting in the background between his father and grandfather. He adjusted his hearing and began listening to the voices…
"Ignore them, little lord."
"But…"
"Ignore them." She said again, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You are too young for all of this. Just ignore them."
"Come on. My daughter ought to have woken up by now. The same with your sister, I might need to nurse both."
Eddard nodded. They both mounted upon Blackbane and galloped back to Winterfell.
He and Mara had split ways once they reached the castle. Eddard first returned Blackmane to the stables. He then went back to his room to retrieve the 'Histories of the Kings of the North'. The book Eddard's mother had asked them to read. He had already read it twice, but it didn't hurt to do so a third time.
He then went down to a small training yard where Ser Rodrik Cassel trained them and waited for everyone else to arrive while he read. Ser Rodrik and his brother Martyn were the first to arrive. After that came Theo and last was Brandon. Ser Rodrik had them combat each other with the moves they had learned the last week.
Eddard fought Theo first, defeating him. Then he fought Martyn, also defeating him. It wasn't really a fair contest. Since he was much stronger and faster than the rest of the boys, he was being trained with. He then fought Bran, who seemed more concentrated than normal today. He defeated Bran in their first spar but expectedly, Bran won their second match.
Unexpected events continued to happen on that relatively normal day. When Lord Edric Cerwyn had come to personally train them, he had brought blunted steel swords for them to use. A steel sword that Eddard never managed to wield no matter what.
Then a man had run in shouting about how Master Glover had brought a Child of the Forrest to Winterfell. But when Eddard laid eyes on the creature, he knew it could be nothing other than the soldiers that had been summoned in his dreams.
"It's a Goblin."