==Aftermath of the Crimson Scene==

I had the criminals brought one by one under the view of everyone for interrogation.

Unfortunately, that is the extent of my powers as a knight. Any more than this enters the border of Lords.

Still, my attempts at learning the behavior studies are finally bearing fruit.

With the help of AI who points out every minor flaw, like sweating when combined with evasion and other telltale signs, I rapidly dissected their every crime, their headquarters, and the wealth stored there.

As the 12th criminal was brought forward, I observed him closely, noticing the slight twitch in his left eye as he tried to maintain a stoic expression. "What's your name?" I asked, already aware of the answer from the previous interrogation reports.

"Jaime," he replied, his voice quivering slightly.

I raised an eyebrow, noting the inconsistency in his tone.

[His voice trembled slightly, indicating potential nervousness or deception. Acceptable]

"Jaime, you've been implicated in several robberies in the area according to the testimony of your friends," I stated, watching for his reaction.

He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting around as he tried to come up with a plausible response. "I... I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered.

I nodded, internally noting his evasion tactics.

[Evasion detected. Combined with sweating, indicates potential guilt or deception. Taking note of the circumstances, 70% chance of being a Lie.]

"Let's not play games, Jaime," I said, adopting a stern tone. "We know about your hideout in the woods, at the Hideout. The stolen goods are hidden there. Where is it?"

Looking at his silence, Simba roared out.

Jaime's hesitation and resolve crumbled under the mighty roar. "It's... it's near the old oak tree," he finally admitted, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Good," I said, satisfied with the information obtained. "Now, onto the next one."

As each criminal was brought forward, I repeated the process, carefully analyzing their responses and extracting the necessary information. With the help of the AI's insights, I was able to unravel their web of deceit and uncover the truth behind their crimes.

After hours of interrogation, I finally had all the information I needed. I turned to my companions to dish out my orders.

"Walder, you will take a squad of guards to manage them," I announced. I thought for a second and also announced, "Might as well make use of them. You will ensure all the heavy and menial tasks are done by them. Ranging from Shit Pits to the Heavy lifting."

Walder, despite his closeness to me, showed his shrewdness by acting properly like a retainer, "It will be done, Ser."

I also said to Bautista, "Get the rest of their group. I trust that you are capable of this task."

The Man gave a brief nod and took his soldiers with him. I gave a look to Simba who got up to follow, leading two of his Lionesses.

Looking at the remaining Pride, I gave them a command, "Eat anyone who tries to escape."

The day ended with multiple idiots being taken into the forest by the Hungry Cats.

-Night of the Same day-

In the midst of the night, I stood vigil in the forest, flanked by the Pride. The moon cast eerie shadows among the trees, adding to the sense of anticipation that hung in the air.

I glanced over at Garmond, who suddenly shouted, pointing towards a mound of trash piled up in the clearing by the Pride.

"What is it, Garmond?" I called out, striding over to where he stood.

He gestured wildly at the heap of debris. "Look, Ser Kerith! The trash, it's moving!"

The source revealed, himself to be one of the bandits we had apprehended earlier. He looked disheveled and terrified, clearly caught off guard by our presence.

"Please," he pleaded, his voice trembling with fear. "I-I didn't mean any harm. I was just trying to escape."

I narrowed my eyes, assessing the situation. "And why should we believe you?"

The bandit swallowed hard, his eyes darting nervously between me and the waiting jaws of the lions behind me. "I'll tell you everything," he promised, desperation evident in his voice. "Just please, don't let them eat me!"

I exchanged a glance with a tiger, which let out a low growl, his gaze fixed intently on the trembling bandit.

With a nod from me, he stepped forward, his presence alone enough to send the bandit scrambling back in terror to the rest of the escapees.

Seeing the escapees quiet in silence, I turned towards Garmond.

"What do you know of magic?" I inquired.

He proceeded to explain the rumors, discussions, and knowledge surrounding Valyrian steel and Obsidian.

Nodding at his answers, I elaborated, "I made the right decision to postpone your entry into magic until you had a basic education. Otherwise, it would have been tough for you to understand my teachings."

The wisdom of waiting for a foundation in basic education before delving into the complexities of magic is well-founded.

"The arcane arts, after all, are similar to science; they are deeply rooted in history and interconnected with every other form of education. Take the Warg bond, for instance; it essentially connects the minds of two beings. Some essential knowledge of a person's personality and emotions are needed to keep the identities separate. Hopefully, you will find a Warg partner on this journey."

Unfortunately, he should find a partner the wild way, not like my example. Disregarding the risks without the AI to guide the user. The Weirwood sap is a precious commodity. Bluntly speaking, I was lucky to have found an 8000-year-old weirwood.

Speaking of time to test how much he absorbed from shadowing me over the years, I asked, "What do you know of weirwood sap?"

Garmond answered, "Weirwood sap is a substance of great significance in the lore of Westeros, known for its distinctive blood-red color. It flows from the weirwood trees, which are revered by the followers of the Old Gods of the Forest. This sap is not only a symbol of the mystical connection between the weirwoods and the greenseers but also plays a role in rituals and has been mentioned in relation to the magical properties attributed to the trees.
The weirwoods themselves are ancient and central to the spiritual practices of the Children of the Forest and the Northmen, who believe the trees are sacred. The sap, with its vivid hue and connection to the deep magic of the land, acts as a catalyst in majority of first men rituals."

I nodded and continued from there, "But due to its ridiculous potency, it is tough to store. Even the Obsidian containers only obstruct the loss for some time, not stop it. But there is one container I commissioned after mortgaging all the Warehouse shares in Braavos, a Valyrian steel container."

I retrieved the long container from the back of the porter Lion, always kept safe amidst the Planetos varieties of apex predators.
Approaching the imprisoned escapees, I took a drop of weirwood sap and fed them all. Some collapsed into a coma while others started screaming.

I explained to Garmond who was horrified seeing the truth of magic, "Weirwood sap forcibly expands the mind of a person into a deeper side. Even for a wizard, it is suicidal to take it without proper preparations."
There are exceptions like me, who has an AI. I continued by pointing out, "The prominent exceptions are the strong magical bloodlines like Stark or Targaryens."

Along with that, I took out the cursed compass. Pointing it out, I explained, "This is one of my goals of this journey."

I then told him my plan, " We are going to produce the enchantment on the entrance of the room here," I said, gesturing towards the collapsed escapees. "They are now the most common ingredient in rituals - an activated life. Due to the complexity of human life and thoughts, they weigh more significance in rituals, second only to magical beings."

Garmond looked queasy, but I continued, "The enchantment essentially diverts the senses of the non-magical. So in this ritual, we symbolically use the escapees Losing their Senses to attach the enchantment to the Compass."

I placed the compass on the ground and instructed escapees to touch it.
"NO, no. We won't. You, Madmen."
"Monster. Fuck you."

I raised my eyebrow about hearing that from the rapists who enjoy little girls in front of their prisoned parents. While some psychologists say it is me consoling myself. I could only say; Indeed, I am indifferent to these individuals.

I am confident that I can remain kind and give a smile to my followers without significantly altering my personality even after doing this.

"Simba, Please Motivate them."

ROARRR

Under the threats of the animals, they complied.

[Ritual starting: The loss of senses.]

With a single whistle, the eyes of the escapees were gouged out with claws,

followed by the ears,

the tongue,

and finally, due to blood loss, the sense of touch was lost.

[The compass changing color to grey, similar to the succuss case of Peremore on the entrance]

"The focus of their senses before dying will now receive the same phenomenon of dispelling the senses focused on it," I explained. "Since the escapees are all non-magical, mostly the non-magical will be affected."

Garmond doubled over and vomited. After a moment, I sighed inwardly, reflecting on the brutality of magic. It was the reason I had waited until Garmond crossed 20 and became mature, unlike his teenage self, to finally introduce him to magic.

And so, I continued to list out the magical goals of this journey. "Use the compass to find more magicals, because only the magicals can see it. Educate them, along with the other talents found. Train them. Find the partners to Wargs found. Use the attacking scum to progress rapidly in study of rituals."

I turned to Garmond as I prepared to leave the scene, entrusting him with the compass to carry out his duties. "Just one precaution, Garmond," I warned. "Never use the compass for looking at directions. That feat will give you a fate worse than the Stranger's embrace."

-Kerith's command tent-

After five days, Bautista arrived with a load of people—some innocent prisoners, others the bandits who held them captive. The crates filled with food, money, and other articles were truly incredible.

Inside my tent, my core group assembled. Walder questioned, "How will we manage the refugees? They are traumatized and might not even have a home left."

Clinton replied bluntly, "Then they will be motivated. The men can join under Bautista to increase the guard count to match the growing group. As for women and children, they can find some work in the group."

Stevon snorted and explained, "It is not that simple. Men are not creatures of logic but of emotions."

I nodded at that and answered, "I have been prepared for that."

Turning to my solution, I violently pulled Huric out of the sack, revealing his status recognized by the clergy clothes on him.

With a laugh, I said, "Who is better than a clergyman of gods to give spiritual support? A septon is talented in wielding hearts the same way we Maesters are in wielding our brains."

I reintroduced Huric, "The representative of the Holy Seven in our endeavor and also the son of the High Septon. If it was before Maegor broke the faith, his status would rival a prince."

Huric snorted and replied, "Not now. Maegor and Jaehaerys, despite their hatred for each other, completely brought the faith to be below the power of the Iron Throne. The only correction is my father is the former High Septon, since the Holy Dragoness, Maegelle Targaryen, ascended the position using her influence as a king's daughter, effectively giving the king control over the Faith."

I stood firm in my decision to bring Huric here. With him as a representative and generous donations, the former High Septon was all raring to influence the Faith to improve my image.

Huric sighed wearily as he went to heal the trauma of the people under the watchful eye of Simba. It was a daunting task, but one that Huric undertook with a sense of duty and compassion. As he moved among the refugees, offering words of comfort and solace, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in my well-founded decision in the past.

Simba, ever vigilant, kept a close eye on Huric as he worked, ensuring the security and safety of him refugees from the chaotic refugees themselves. His presence, coupled with the strong images of Simba and the guards, brought a sense of calm to the chaotic scene instilling a sense of trust and security.

I felt more powerful wielding both antagonistic Magic and Faith. It makes me curious about how nobles, great lords, and even the King feel when they use their power. The looks of respect and fear directed at me are becoming more apparent, and I'm beginning to enjoy this power.