The support for this so far has been very endearing. I appreciate it from every single one of you.

Recap: Jon Snow, a young man at the age of 16, had gotten his direwolf, Ghost. Ghost found a magical tome naming itself the Gamer's Grimoire. The Grimoire had revealed some startling revelations to Jon about his parentage among other things. And so our story continues...

Everything was blurred. Sound was muffled. It was day time that much he could tell. Or at least he thought it was with the amount of light and heat he felt. He was in a crowd full of people. The stench around him was foul enough to make his stomach twist and lurch. He felt sick, like he was going to throw up. He fell to his knees and gagged, but nothing came out. The ground was warm to the touch. No, wait... it wasn't ground or dirt or even mud.

It was cobblestone.

He forced himself back onto his feet and stood trying to figure out where he was. It took a moment for him to realize that the crowd was jeering. His gaze went up to see a statue of someone, but he couldn't make out who. It looked like there was a figure that had climbed up onto the statue. Small enough to be a child.

And beyond the statue was a large building but it was too blurry to make out. On what had to be the steps were several figures with one of them looking as if it were kneeling. But then... among the muffled clamor and jeers, one voice sounded out arrogant, pompous, with a whiff of cruelty, "Ser Illyn, bring me his head!"

With a large and loud crack, an explosion roared out before Jon's eyes, the building along with everything and everyone around him exploded into green flames. The sound, force and heat were so powerful that Jon just barely felt himself leave the ground. He was airborne for a moment before slamming into a stone wall with a dull thud. Yet, there was no pain even as his head connected to the stone shortly after his back met it. Sliding to the ground, the ringing from the blast was all he could hear as he tried to open his eyes and see.

The blinding light faded, and the heat was suddenly replaced with an intense cold. Colder than he could ever remember feeling. As he blinked his eyes, all he could see was white and grey. Snow.

Winterfell. But it was wrong. Broken and destroyed. It looked as if there had been a battle or something that occurred within the walls of his home. The courtyard was filled with snow-covered wreckage. The ringing gave way to the sound of wind and something rippling with it. He looked above himself to see the banner of House Stark, tattered and ripped. He got up and walked, looking for his family, for survivors, for anyone. When he passed by something that was sticking out of the snowy ground he heard echoing war cries and the sound of horses neighing. He froze, before looking around. Seeing no one, he turned to look at what he had stopped at before kneeling down to investigate.

It was a bloody quiver. The arrows weren't the usual broadhead or bodkin point arrows. These were... primitive. The arrowheads were of a sharpened, polished black stone. He walked until he passed one of the few wolf statues that dotted winterfell. When a low growl emanated from it, Jon jumped back and stared at it. It didn't move. All was silence until that was broken by the sounds of fighting and clashing of blades. He turned towards the sound-the armory-and ran to it's door. It took him half a moment to reach it, but by then the sound was gone. In the building, all manner of weapons, shields, armor, and other things lay scattered on the floor, cold and abandoned, save one.

A lone, thin braavosi sword was sticking up in the center of the room, stabbed into the ground.

The sounds of wood crashing and cawing of crows caught his ear and he ran back into the courtyard. The wooden railing along the wall was broken, as if something had smashed through the other side of it. He looked down to the stairs and found a broken wheelchair. At least he thought it was one. A lone black feather fluttered down on it just when the wind picked up. He ran to the nearest building and tried to open the door but to no avail. The wind and snow raged, blowing harshly, almost urgently. He ran to another building, and another, and another, yet he was blocked by a door or herded away by the wind. The wind eventually eased as he came closer to the gate to the crypts.

As he walked, shivering and holding himself to alleviate the cold, he came upon even more broken things leading up to the gate. Even this part of the castle had not been spared. As he put one foot forward after another, he stepped on something hard in the snow, and heard the sound of rapid hoofbeats. He looked around, but saw nothing. Taking his foot off of whatever he had stepped on, he looked to find that it was a hand. A solid gold hand. He kneeled down to pick it up when he saw something out of the corner of his just a bit further away.

A broken, frost covered wagon wheel, and on it was a silver chain, with three nubs. He abandoned the hand and went to look at the chain to find that three nubs were actually dragon heads. There was an echoing beastly screech that sounded out over his head. The wind picked up and began to push him further towards the crypts. Jon stumbled and struggled to balance himself, almost falling face-first in the ground. All he could do was walk as something seemed to herd him closer and closer to the final resting place of his ancestors. Just before he came to the door, he found one final thing.

Lying on the ground in front of the ironwood doors was a sword, a hand and a half sword from the look of it. The blade was black with ripples indicating it as Valyrian Steel, and it's pommel... was a snarling white wolf's head. Jon grabbed the sword, hesitantly, having noticed the iced blood on both handle and blade. As soon as his fingers wrapped around the soft leather grip an unnatural, terrible, eerie high-pitched scream screeched from behind him, and Jon felt an ancient primal fear fill his entire body.

The crypt's ironwood doors slammed open as the howling winds rushed forth and without thinking, Jon bolted down into the crypts, sword in hand. He rushed down the stairs and turned down the first hallway he noticed. He kept going, not minding the statues, candles and lit torches, the only thoughts flitting through his mind were 'hide' and 'get away.' When he passed one particular statue however...

"His name is..." a woman's voice whispered. Jon froze in his tracks. Something deep in him registered that voice as familiar, yet he did not know why. He turned to look at the statue to find out it was hers... his mother's. He walked up to it, studying it even more now that he knew the truth.

"Mother...was that you I heard?" He whispered to himself. He did not expect a reply.

"You have to protect him." Jon stepped back. Protect him? Protect who? A loud crash sounded from the stairs and Jon took one further step back, glancing back and forth from the direction he came from to his mother's statue. When a misty fog came through, dowsing the nearby torches left and right, he cursed and ran. Hard.

He kept running until he stopped. He had no idea why. Was he tired? All he could feel was the cold and fear. But he had to get away. From whatever that was in the snow. He startled as another voice to his left spoke now, one he was familiar with... yet it was one he dreaded.

"All this horror that has come to my family..." He slowly looked to his left, expecting to see the cold blue eyes of Lady Stark. Instead he saw another statue, in her likeness, much to his mounting horror, "...it was all because I couldn't love a motherless child."

Jon stepped back bumping into the statue behind him when another voice, one that now caused him to feel bittersweet love, spoke, "You are a Stark. You may not have my name..." Jon turned harshly, his pace of breath matching, hoping it wasn't him. But alas...

"...but you have my blood." The statue of Eddard Stark spoke. Jon wanted to cry now, wanted to fall to his knees and shout out denials, but a glance at his right showed the fog had caught up to him, so he kept running deeper into the crypt, zig-zagging through the halls of this tomb. Kept going until he couldn't. Until he ran out of crypts to traverse.

At the end of an alcove were four statues. On one side was a statue of his brother Robb just as he knew him, if a bit older. He was accompanied by a large direwolf that had to be a grown Greywind.

"I've won every battle, but I'm losing this war." Robb's voice had sounded despondent, but... War? What war?! Another voice spoke from behind him, this one older, a woman's, with more of a southern accent, similar to the one he heard used by Lord Manderly when he visited, but no less familiar...

"No one can protect me. No one can protect anyone." There was none of the childlike innocence of the girl who called him half-brother in this woman's cool voice for she was a woman. The statue was of a taller more mature looking Sansa Stark clad in northern furs just like their family, with her hair coming down in a curtain along the sides of her face and back. And beside her...

"Anyone can be killed." Arya's voice sounded from statue. She was older too, a bit taller, clad in an open fur cloak, a padded doublet, and a split skirt. She was holding up the same thin braavosi sword, the same one Jon had seen earlier, she held it in front of her face in a dueling curtsy, blade-point up. Unlike Robb's, both of the girls' statues were without their direwolves. Jon looked to his right towards the darkened end of the alcove, noting the hints of a statue hidden in the shadows before turning to his left to see that the mist had found him again.

It slowly creeped towards him, extinguishing every candle and torch it touched, but it had covered the only exit now. He was trapped. A light with a sudden fwoosh noise behind him signified the darkened alcove was alit with torches and candles given the amount of light emanating from behind him. Whomever's statue was on the other side of him seemed to wish to say its piece now if he had to guess. Before the mist could silence it forever. Jon turned, half-expecting to see the statue of Bran, or Rickon, or perhaps both, but instead was greeted by one he did not expect.

His own.

His statue was surrounded by dozens of lit candles instead of the usual handful or so that the others had. Behind and around it, there were several more handfuls of lit candles in placements built into the stone wall. He was older, a decade or more if he had to guess. He couldn't really tell the age of the statues of those who knew save for the fact they were all too young to have needed one. His statue showed him clad in furs like his father- like Lord Stark. In fact his statue was strongly similar to Lord Stark's if not for the face. His hands rested on the hilt of a sword stabbed into the ground in front of him, a familiar wolf-head pommel, snarling fiercely as it remained uncovered by the statue's hands.

Jon looked down to the sword he himself held. He realized that the pommel was indeed meant to be Ghost as a ruby eye glinted in the torchlight. He looked back up at his statue finally noticing the very large direwolf behind it. If Ghost's statue was a real life representation as all the other statues were, then Ghost was big enough to ride, or at least big enough to take down a fully grown horse. And that was when his own voice spoke.

"I'm not asking you to forget your dead. I'll never forget mine. But I'm asking you to think about your children now. They'll never have children of their own if we don't band together. The Long Night is coming and the dead come with it. No clan can stop them. The Free Folk can't stop them, the Night's Watch can't stop them and all the southern kings can't stop them! Only together. All of us." His voice was rougher and more impassioned. But the Long Night? The dead? They were all stopped long ago! And while he knew who the Night's Watch was, who were these Free Folk? And southern kings? As in plural? What was his statue talking about? Jon looked behind himself to see that the mist was Robb's and Sansa's statues now, just a few steps from himself. He raised the sword he had and readied it.

But then thoughts of what he had seen and heard entered his mind. Winterfell smashed and destroyed, with objects connected to other people strewn about. The sword in his hand was still iced with blood. His own blood. He was vaguely aware of the mist having crawled past his feet and the lights around and behind him going out one by one. As the darkness drowned the light, his voice spoke from behind once more, hoarser and graver than before.

"I did what I thought was right, and I got murdered for it. I don't know how to be a leader. I thought I did, but... I failed." The defeat in his statue's voice was felt in his heart. He... failed. Winterfell destroyed, his family and everyone else dead all because he failed!

There wasn't any fight to be had. The battle had already happened and he lost. He fell to all fours, sword still in hand, head held low. As his despair grew, so too did the darkness and cold. Both filled and hollowed him simultaneously. He just wanted to close his eyes and give up. What was the point in getting back up when everything else was gone?

"Good, now go fail again." A new voice spoke from behind him. It was a man's voice, deep, with an accent he couldn't quite place. But it was warm, and kind. Strangely enough Jon felt something spark inside him at those simple words. He rested back on his knees and looked over his shoulder. In one of the placements near his statue, a lone candle stood alit as if defying the mist.

"Not today. A girl is Arya Stark of Winterfell." He turned to see another candle had relit itself at the foot of Arya's statue. A candle at the foot of Sansa's statue relit itself too.

"When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives." And just like that other voices sounded out behind him.

"The night is dark and full of terrors, but the fire burns them all away."

"Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor." Multiple candles relighted.

"You've got the North in you - the real North."

"I pledged to ride north. I intend to honor that pledge."

"FUCKING DIE!" A torch over Sansa's shoulder burst into flames.

"I'll kill them all! Every last one of them! I will kill them all!" A candle at Robb's feet alighted.

"We're here for a reason. We are part of something larger than ourselves." More voices joined in, each in defiance or encourage meant, and each candle and torch joined with them. Dozens and more, defying a silent terror. Warmth defying the cold.

Dozens of lights defying the darkness. The despair and fear vanished from his heart, a smile made its way onto Jon's face which turned into frown in the next instant.

When the voices suddenly went silent, that was when Jon saw them. A pair of glowing blue eyes, silhouetting a lone figure in the darkness. From what Jon could see this... creature looked like a man, clad in some sort of armor, but he could not make out anything else.

"The true enemy won't wait out the storm. He brings the storm." His statue's voice spoke from behind. The fear came back, worse than ever. The being took a single step towards him. With that one step, the fires of the nearest candles and torches jumped to the next ones closer towards Jon himself. The being in the darkness continued, taking deliberate slow steps, one at a time, as if mockingly. And with each step, the fires jumped further away from it and closer to Jon until all the flames were around his statue behind him. The being was just in front of him, one step away from his siblings' statues when Jon felt the flames jump into him.

Gone was the fear and cold as warmth rushed through him, filling him. Gone was the despair.

All that was left was a powerful urge to survive, to resist, to fight.

To live.

"Get up, son of ice and fire! Fight!" The voices cried out as one. Jon stood up, raised his sword and swung. The flames inside him moved through his arms and into the blade, coating it. His blazing sword clashed with a blade made of ice.

Jon finally saw the creature's face as the flaming blade came close to its face.

What was once a man, had been shriveled and emaciated, clad in dark armor. His skin was blue like his eyes. He had no hair, but atop his head was a crown of ice. He smirked, ever so slightly before pushing Jon's blade back. Jon blocked the return strike to his chest just barely before he had to parry another strike aimed for his legs. He ducked under another strike which would've cleaved his head off. The creature's blade struck the adjacent wall. Blindly, Jon thrusted, and the blade sank into the creature's chest, before both he and the sword shattered into pieces.

The stone floor underneath him cracked and shattered afterward... and Jon fell into darkness.

Jon's eyes burst open and he sat up fast in his bed, panting and sweating. Grey eyes darted all over the room looking for the shade that tormented his dreams. Slowly, he became aware of where he was. His room was still dark with the only light emanating from the still glowing embers in his hearth. Jon's eyes looked toward the window. There were no stars in the night sky from what he could see nor any clouds. So that meant it was the hour of the wolf. It was always darkest before the dawn. Speaking of wolves...

He looked for Ghost's white fur. Even in this light he should be able to see him. When he didn't, his worry increased before he felt a warm weight on his side. Jon looked at it to find his direwolf pup sleeping right next to him. He looked adorable asleep with his little ears twitching. With a smile, he gently rubbed Ghost's head. The pup's eyes opened wearily at his touch looking at him briefly before closing his eyes.

Jon looked up at the ceiling. With a sigh he placed an arm over his eyes. What a dream! It had gone from strange to outright nightmarish. To think he dreamt that Ghost had found a magical book which revealed his mother was Lyanna Stark and his father was actually Rhaegar Targaryen! And then it made some sort of point system regarding attributes and skills! And then he somehow dreamed that the White Walkers had returned, and laid waste to everything he knew and loved! How ridiculous! He took his arm away from his face to see something that proved his current thoughts wrong.

You have slept in your own bed. HP, SP, and MP are fully restored.

'By the Old gods and the New! It is real!' Jon thought in surprise and horror. The words were in a thin, almost translucent pane of glass. He reached for it and his fingers went right through it as if it were merely air. He didn't feel any difference. No change in the temperature. No air movement. Nothing. The window disappeared after a few seconds.

He thought over everything that book went over. He wasn't the son of Eddard Stark, but the son of his sister, Lyanna, and the Silver Prince, Rhaegar Targaryen. He wasn't an actual sibling to Lord Stark's children, but their cousin. He thought about choosing his distant ancestry. Was he truly related to the Tyrells and Martells? Then his thoughts moved to the supposed attributes and skills when something came with the thought.

Information that he didn't know he knew. He knew what was required in making leather armor though he didn't know how to craft it. He knew the telltale differences between herbs and common plants, but he had never paid any attention to them before. He can think of several tools he had seen small folk use that can be used as a weapon. Things he hadn't thought of that could be used for anything else. One of the more shocking things that he had thought of was the swords. He had already known about the shortswords, longswords, bastard swords and greatswords. But he knew for a fact he had never known what an arakh was or what it had looked like. He had heard of the braavosi blades, but didn't know their official name was the rapier nor did he know what a falchion was until now.

All of this information was new, yet he could easily picture how they looked like, what materials were used to craft them and how much of each material was used. He then remembered the skinchanging perk that he had picked up. Strangely, it was different from the rest. It wasn't as clear to him as the rest of the information. He couldn't see it like it was a memory like the swords and armor. It was... foggy like recalling a memory from early childhood. It came in flashes that he didn't understand. Flashes of animals and people with white eyes. He had remembered what Old Nan had said about skinchangers. Men who could turn into beasts. Was that what he was now?

And then... that dream!

What in seven hells was that about?! Maybe the book had more information. It had to!

His hands moved across his body and bed searching for the book. He didn't feel it. Raising his head looking for it bore no results either. Where was it? He looked over to Ghost who was back to sleep. While the pup was getting bigger, there was little chance that the book would have been completely covered by him even if it did fall between the two while they were asleep. Jon rose from his bed rousing Ghost. The little direwolf whined but got out of the bed looking up at his master both annoyed and inquisitive. Jon moved the sheets hoping to uncover the book but still did not find it. He kneeled onto the floor, placing his right hand upon the bed frame to look under it when he believed the Grimoire might have fallen underneath it in the night, but there was nothing. Jon sighed in bewildered worry before he saw something.

On his right wrist was a small chain-linked bracelet and attached to that bracelet was a small object that looked suspiciously like a book. Jon stood staring at it in wonder. He didn't own or wear anything like it. The chain was pure black, at least he thought it was. It was hard to see in the low light. Jon walked over to his desk before plucking a candle from the candelabra next to it. Candle in hand, he moved to the hearth which still had a few glowing embers left and stuck the candle's wick on one of them. It lit well, brightening the room a bit more. He moved back over to the candelabra and lit the other candles on it before placing the first back in its holder. Now the room had some decent lighting at least.

He looked back at the bracelet and studied it once more. In the candlelight he could see that it was indeed pure black reflecting the candles' glow off of it. His thumb brushed the object and with an audible click it was released from the chains and grew larger while floating briefly in the air. Jon grabbed it before it fell to the ground. The tome became larger until it required both hands to hold it. With somewhat shaking fingers, he opened the book.

The Gamer's Grimoire

The ink read on the first page. Jon thought over the word 'Gamer.' He knew of games and what they were. With that logic maybe gamer meant someone who played games? But what game was this book involved with? He turned the page over for more information. On the left page was the picture of himself that he had seen the previous night which still awed him by how accurate it was while on the right read:

Jon Snow

Title: Bastard of Winterfell
Level: 6
Attributes:
Strength: 25
Perception: 20
Endurance: 20
Charisma: 20
Intelligence: 20
Agility: 25
Will: 35
Luck: 30

Skills:
Lockpick: 17
Sneak: 22
Unarmed: 27
Riding: 27
Marksmanship: 22
Melee: 38
Survival: 15
Speech: 15
Armor: 16
Alchemy: 20
Tactics: 20
Politics: 15
Magic: 19

Perks:
Skinchanger
Blood of the Dragon
Hydromancy
Basic Riding
Short Bows
Miscellaneous Weaponry
Sword-fighting
Tracking
Hunting
Persuade and Lie
Light Armor
Herblore
Combat Training
Wolf's Blood

Jon was wondering what all of these actually meant when new text appeared at the bottom.

For more information, turn to the Table of Contents page.

And so he did. There were a lot of page numbers to say the least, too many to possibly have in a tome this size. He turned a couple of pages to see different page numbers at the bottom corners of each page. He thumbed through the pages not even taking note of what was written on them. Almost like an illusion, multiple pages just skipped over one another not stopping at all. Far more than it looked like, far more than it was supposed to be.

When he turned back to the Table of Contents he studied what was on it.

Player Information
Attributes
Skills
Perks
Titles
World Map
Quests
Inventory
Achievements
Codex

Remembering the Achievement from the other day and the swift change it made with him going from level 1 to level 6 instantly, Jon thought to look it up before he remembered something about how the book worked. On a hunch he brushed his thumb against the word Achievements. He was pleasantly surprised when the book's pages turned of their own volition to the appropriately named page.

Achievements

Description: Achievements mark specific accomplishments made during the Great Game. They give rewards ranging from experience to special bonuses like abilities or perks. These can be accomplished by finishing quest activities, making specific choices, mastering skills, and performing certain tasks.

Live and Let Live: Through Infancy, Pestilence, and certain death wishes, you've survived to be six and ten! Start off at level 6!

That was all there was. He turned back to the table of contents and checked Attributes, Skills, and Perks which had all said what they had said earlier during his... what did the book call it? Character Creation? He shook his head. If he hadn't seen it, he wouldn't have believed it. The perks however were much more interesting than the previous two. Apparently, these perks could only be unlocked by meeting a certain criteria. Some of them required him to have a specific number of points in a particular skill, some required it to be a particular attribute, but there were quite a few that required a bit of both. It was strange looking at these perks. While the ones he had met, but did not have were fully visible, the ones he hadn't met the requirements for were barely readable due to the ink being almost completely faded. Deciding to deal with it later, he turned back to the Table of Contents and wondered how it could possibly hold a map when he tapped World Map. When the pages turned he saw a full map of the entire continent of Westeros. It was like a partially painted portrait. As if an artist had flown high into the skies, peered down upon Westeros and painted it upon these pages.

While most of the map looked similar to his own picture, sketched in black and white, there were some parts in the North section of the map that were green, gray, and blue. There were some locations that were marked appropriately. Places he'd been to even as a young child like Greywater Watch and Torrhen's Square and other places he'd only heard or read about like King's Landing. These places were marked, but not colored in. The seas, rivers, and lakes he had read about were labeled too, but not colored as well. Why? Was it because he had never been to them or something? Winterfell and the Wolfswood were noticeably more colored than anywhere else affirming Jon's thoughts.

He tapped on Winterfell and the map did something. It looked as if whatever window he was looking through fell toward his home before stopping, showing his home completely colored in grey, green, blue, brown and black with each place labeled and drawn perfectly. He could even see the heart tree in the Godswood. He looked to his room in the Great Keep to see his exact location, where he was marked by a white wolf head on the map. Fitting, he supposed. Now how did it go back to a full map of Westeros? He tapped the page, but nothing happened. Tapping it twice to make sure of anything yielded a different result. The picture moved as if it were climbing higher into the air before it became how he originally found it.

'This is so strange.' Jon thought before turning back and going to the Titles page. Once there, he saw the information about the Titles.

Titles

Description: Titles are special names that designate what people may call you, regard, or feel about you. You can gain multiple titles which will provide special bonuses to you which in turn can influence how people react to you.

Bastard of Winterfell: Being known as the bastard son of Eddard Stark is a double-edged sword for you, having its positives and negatives. You gain a +10% approval bonus with the people of Winterfell and your Uncle and his children, however, you also have a -15% disapproval penalty with all other nobles and -5% towards all other smallfolk outside of the North.

What in the Seven Hells was Approval? If Jon had to take a guess it might have something to do with how people looked at him and respected him. Though this was getting interesting.

There was a sense of wonder in him that was growing. He hadn't felt such amazement since he was a little boy learning how to ride a horse or learning to hold a sword for the first time. He went back to look at the inventory, but found nothing of note prompting him to go to the codex part. He tapped Codex and was brought to another page that was similar to the Table of Contents page.

Codex

Description: Your Codex is your collection of information that you build as you explore Westeros and the Known World. Codex entries give information about the Known World, including stories of historians and scholars, certain creatures, characters and items. It is divided into different categories for the Player's convenience. Tap any of them see more information.

+Art of War
+Bestiary
+Books and Songs
+Characters
+Culture and History
+Items
+Letters and Notes
+Magic and Religion
+Quest-Related

Jon tapped most of them to show more topics. Tapping those brought him to the corresponding page. He looked through most of them. The only entry in Items was actually Ice, House Stark's ancestral valyrian steel greatsword. He looked in the Bestiary to find only creatures he already knew about and had seen, like predators and game. Culture and History was filled with information about the First Men, the Andals, the Seven Kingdoms and their current peoples, but it looked somewhat incomplete. Maybe it would get filled if he read more of the history books. Magic and Religion surprisingly didn't have much information on magic for some reason. It did have some snippets about the Children of the Forest and the White Walkers, but not much else. As for the religion part, it was mostly filled with what he already knew about the Old Gods, the Faith of the Seven, and even mentioned the Drowned God and Storm God that Theon talked about before. He looked over Letters and Notes and Quest-Related which were surprisingly empty leading him to check on Books and Songs which were a volume of stories and songs he had heard through the years, like the Bear and the Maiden Fair. Jon then looked at Art of War before going, "Finally!"

Art of War consisted of information about the book. Jon looked over what it presented to him.

Approval and Disapproval: This is a measure of how key characters will respond to you. If you have a decent level of approval, marked by a white heart, then they will be civil toward you. If it is high enough they will act warmly and even friendly to you meaning they will be more inclined to help you. The opposite is possible however, as disapproval, marked by the cracked black heart, will make people act more negatively towards you.

Jon understood it well enough, but does it have a scale- Oh! Yes it did. Right underneath the text.

Approval Rankings and Levels
Crisis = -100%
Hostile = -99% to -30%
Cold = -29% to -5%
Neutral = -4% to 19%
Warm = 20% to 74%
Friendly = 75% to 100%

Jon looked over the rankings. He didn't even want to know what would happen if he and someone both entered the Crisis part of the approval. Wait... were Lady Catelyn and him near that? No, no, if they were he would have known. He decided to take his mind off of these depressing thoughts by reading on.

Inventory: The collection of items you acquire on your journey. There is a limit to how much you can stash however which depends on your strength. You can have anything from money to a full set of armor here. Be sure to use it to its fullest!
Current Weight Capacity: 0/195

Tutorial: To increase the weight capacity your strength must be increased.

Okay, so the amount of stuff he could have was dependent on his Strength Attribute? It was nice to know that the Inventory would do its job, but could it really hold a full set of armor? And where would it be placed anyway? Would he have some sort of magical bag or pocket? He had no idea how that worked so he moved on to the next topic.

Quests: These will be different missions you will undertake. Some will be optional, but others will not be. At the completion of each quest, you will be rewarded with experience amongst other things. All quests will, on some level, affect your future and the future of Westeros.

Okay that last part made a shiver run up Jon's spine. What did it mean by 'the future of Westeros'? Was something going to happen? Like that dream!? Jon looked at the next thing after Quests.

Experience: This is a numerical statistic measuring the "maturity" of your character or the general level of knowledge and skill you have acquired. Experience points, or XP, are awarded for defeating enemies, completing quests, or successfully performing other tasks such as picking a lock or acquiring a codex entry.

Level Up: This occurs once you have gotten enough experience to gain a new level. Once you have, your level number will go up by one and you will be given a fixed number of Attribute, Skill, and Perk points each in order to customize and improve yourself. Be wary, however! Once you've sorted all of the points and continued on, you will be unable to go back and change it until the next level up so choose wisely!

So experience acted like a score for what he did and when he accumulated enough it would lead to a level up where he would get stronger supposedly. Well, he wouldn't have believed in it if he didn't suddenly know what a sickle was or that it could be used for more than just farming barley and oats. Jon looked back at the next thing which was the World Map.

World Map: Your personal navigation between locations. It details major locations of interest around the Seven Kingdoms. You can use the world map to travel to various locations, although some are not available until you meet certain criteria such as discovering it or being informed about it.

That explained it somewhat, but what did it mean by using the the map to travel to other locations? Maybe it was just an expression and he was reading too much into it. He exited out of the World Map section and went to Characters. There he found so much more than the other pages had provided. There were two pages each dedicated to a single person. They were laid just like his had been: A sketched picture on the left and information on the right. He started with the first person on the list who happened to be one of his favorites, Arya.

Arya Stark

The picture was her exact image down to last detail. Down below was another image of some sort; a bar with an arrow inside it and there was a heart on each side. The heart on the right was whole while on the left was blackened with a crack going down its middle. The arrow was more to the right almost at the white heart as text suddenly appeared under the bar.

Approval Rating: 90%
Disposition: Adore

The high approval rating made his heart soar as he looked over her information. Though he couldn't help wonder what Adore meant in the ranking level as it wasn't on there.

The daughter of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Stark, Arya is a spirited girl interested in fighting and exploration, unlike her older sister, Sansa. Arya wants to learn how to fight with a sword and ride in tourneys, to the horror of Sansa, who enjoys the more traditional pursuits of a noblewoman. Arya is particularly close to her half brother, Jon Snow, who encourages her martial pursuits. She is said to take after the fiery Lyanna in temperament. She is generally regarded as plain, as exemplified by her nickname "Arya Horseface", and is often mistaken for a boy. However, there are instances of her being called pretty and compared to her beautiful late aunt, Lyanna Stark.

Jon's feelings were mixed. He loved the fact she was so close to him, but his happiness was at war with the feelings of anger of whoever nicknamed his little sister 'Horseface.' He agreed that Arya was pretty in her own way. While Sansa was pretty in a more traditional way with the dresses, soft voice, and lady-like ways, Arya was more of a... a... a northern lady; a girl who can be sweet but not afraid to get a little dirt on her hands. Though that was an understatement with Arya. The girl collected scabs as well as dirt.

Jon moved to the next person which was-

Bran Stark

Just like Arya's, Bran's picture captured his image perfectly. Bran's arrow was a little more to the left than their sister's but not by much.

Approval Rating: 75%
Disposition: Friendly

The second son of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Stark, Bran is a sweet and thoughtful boy, well-loved by everyone at Winterfell. He has a fascination with climbing and exploring along the walls and ramparts of the castle. Catelyn once jested that Bran could "climb before he could walk", however, his climbing often distresses her. Like his siblings, he is also dutiful and tough-minded, as well as possessing a propensity for adventure and excitement.

Yes, that was certainly Bran in a nutshell. He turned the page for the next profile and his smile fell from his face.

Catelyn Tully Stark

Oh joy. Her picture was the same too. Though her eyes didn't hold the same coldness they held when they looked at him. The arrow on her bar was much further to left than either of Bran's and Arya's own.

Approval Rating: -40%
Disposition: Hostile

Jon suppressed a wince as he went to her information, but he was pleasantly surprised by the fact it wasn't lower than he thought it would be.

The Lady of Winterfell, wife of Eddard Stark and mother to his five children, Catelyn is proud, strong, kind, and generous. She is seen as honorable and upright by acquaintances, holding duty over desire as a governing principle of behavior. Catelyn also has a strong grasp of politics and possesses considerable insight into what makes Westeros run. Nevertheless, Catelyn is also a fiercely protective woman and more often than not follows her heart rather than her head, especially when it comes to her family, whom she loves deeply. She strongly follows the words of House Tully, "Family, Duty, Honor." However, she regards the bastard Jon Snow as an outsider to her family, and has never forgiven Eddard Stark for bringing him into the Stark household. She holds to the Faith of the Seven.

Jon winced as he read those last lines. His uncle had taken a major blow to his marriage for him. He knew Lady Catelyn never trusted him so long as she thought he was her husband's bastard. He briefly thought of confronting his uncle and forcing him to tell her the truth, but he decided against it for the moment upon realizing his uncle must have had his reasons for keeping up the deception for so long. Speaking of whom...

Eddard Stark

Now that Jon had seen his own picture he could tell how easy it was to think that he was truly Ned Stark's son. Rhaegar had left little in him in appearance... meaning he must look like his mother! A feeling of warmth bloomed in his chest. He couldn't help but wonder what she truly looked like and with this book he may find the answer if he kept going.

Approval Rating: 74%
Disposition: Warm

The Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, Eddard Stark is the husband to Lady Catelyn Stark and father to their five children. Among his enemies, Eddard has the reputation of having cold eyes which are thought to reflect his frozen heart. Eddard is shorter and less handsome than his older brother Brandon had been, according to Catelyn Stark; however, she also states that he has a "good sweet heart beneath his solemn face". He keeps faith with the old gods. He is fiercely protective of his wife and children, whom he loves deeply. Unbeknownst to everyone, Eddard had raised Jon Snow as his bastard son, when in truth he was his nephew, the son of his sister Lyanna. The reason for this was to keep him safe from King Robert Baratheon, who had developed a murderous hatred for all Targaryens.

Nothing he didn't already know, but it was nice to see that his uncle took such measures to keep him safe, even if it left a small knot in his stomach. Wow, he honestly didn't know how to feel. Part of him was still angry over the fact that his uncle held the truth from him for so long, but he could understand why. That didn't make it easier by much though. He turned the page, flipping through the next few pages to find several other people including Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik, and Jory. He kept going until-

Lyanna Stark

There she was. Lord Stark and the few others who spoke of her hadn't been wrong. She really did look like Arya but older. Unlike the other portraits, her's showed more than just her head. It showed her arms and torso. She was holding up a winter rose to her cheek. She was... beautiful. This was what his mother looked like in life. How many times had he seen her statue in the crypts and didn't even know? He gently stroked her picture as if afraid he would smear the ink, studying every detail of her appearance. A wave of affection and sadness came over him and before he knew it a tear landed on the page. He raised his hand towards his face.

Feeling another tear trailing down he wiped it away, but more gathered. He quickly got the book away after a quick wipe of the tear that already landed on it. He gently closed the book and, with a tenderness he rarely ever used, held the Grimoire to his chest, weeping silently.

He wept for the mother he never got to know, for the lies that had been told to keep him safe on her behalf, for finally finding out the truth... and out of gratefulness for the gods having given him the means to do so.

Jon then spent the next two hours familiarizing himself with the book until he felt that he understood the basics of it. He studied his mother's information extensively even though all it was information he heard from everyone else. He tore through the character list just to be sure of what other information this book supposedly had and on whom. Some were of lords, ladies, and knights he had heard of. Some of them had pictures of themselves, but most did not. One of those was his birth father, Rhaegar Targaryen. He had no portrait of himself and the information was scant at the least. Jon kind of wished there had been a portrait, so he could see if he inherited anything from the man who sired him.

By the time he had finished with the book, it was nearing dawn. He looked out of his window to see the horizon beginning to brighten, a sure sign that sunrise was near. He closed the book, placing it down on his bed. The book in turn floated back into the air before shrinking and reattaching itself to the bracelet. He shrugged at seeing it before getting up and walking over to his clothes, to change. Jon reached for a simple black shirt when it suddenly disappeared. Another window like the earlier one when he awoke appeared in front of him with a bell chime.

[1] [Black linen shirt] has been added to your inventory

It took a moment to process what it meant since it was still new to him, but he quickly took the book out to see it if it was true and once it reached the inventory, there it was! The inventory page had some kind of list like the Table of Contents and Codex pages, but it was far shorter.

Clothing
Black Linen Shirt x1 [1]

Jon wondered how he would be able to put it on before pressing on the text. It became underlined and more writing appeared next to it.

[Black linen shirt]
Equip? [Yes] or [No]

Jon pressed yes and the missing shirt suddenly appeared on him as if he had already been wearing it. He excitedly reached for everything else he planned on wearing.

[1] [Black Vest] has been added to your inventory
[1] [Pair of Trousers] has been added to your inventory
[1] [Pair of Gloves] has been added to your inventory
[1] [Pair of Boots] has been added to your inventory

He equipped all of it and Jon found himself completely dressed. In awe at the book's capabilities, he looked down at his inventory, studying the clothing he had. Each one had something similar beside their names but the gloves had a [0.5] instead. He couldn't help but wonder what these numbers meant before more text appeared at the bottom of the page.

Tutorial: the numbers to the side of each item indicate how many of that item you have and how much just one item weighs. An example being if you have x1 of an item means you only have one of that specific item. The other number at the end is the weight of that particular item. If you have a decimal number it will mean less than one until more is added, i.e if it is [0.2] it will take five of that number to equal [1], if it were [0.5] it will take two and so on.

Current Inventory Weight Capacity: 4.5/190

Jon understood what it was going by before closing the book. Looking outside, he saw that the sun had just started to peek over the horizon. He walked over to his desk and blew out all the candles of his candelabra before heading toward the training yard eager to test out this new knowledge of his.

Jon walked through the halls of the Great Keep. Servants were just beginning to stir and get to work, the night guards were changing their shifts with the other guards to get some much needed sleep as Jon weaved through all of them. He realized that the grimoire had affected his eyesight too as he saw each person. Their names popped up over their heads with their levels displayed right underneath that, and underneath that was there attribute statistics. The maids, cooks, and others that he had seen ranged from level 5 to level 8. The guards however were at the very least a level 16 and he had yet to see all of them!

Jon reached the door to the outside and quietly walked out. A rush of cold wind blew into his face, but instead of the bite he had been expecting it was surprisingly gentle and soothing. Jon had never experienced a wind like this so early in the morning. Even in the summer, the northern winds could still nip at you if you go outside early or late enough. Was this the Wolf's Blood perk at work? If so, Jon couldn't wait to see what else his perks could do for him. He kept walking, moving straight to the courtyard's training ground. There he saw Ser Rodrik Cassel practicing on one of the wooden dummies already. Jon supposed that Ser Rodrik's level shouldn't really surprise him, but it did.

Rodrik Cassel

Title: Ser, Master-at-Arms
Level: 53
Attributes:
Strength: 60
Perception: 42
Endurance: 48
Charisma: 35
Intelligence: 30
Agility: 48
Will: 37
Luck: 45
Teaching Merit: Melee x4, Armor x3, Tactics x3, Unarmed x3, Marksmanship x2, Riding x2

Jon's eyes widened at the gap between him and Winterfell's Master-at-Arms. Ser Rodrik was one of the more older men here, older than Lord Stark by a good decade and a half maybe. Jon wasn't too sure. What had the Grimoire said about him? Another window pane showed up in front of him.

Ser Rodrik Cassel is Master-at-Arms at Winterfell and has trained many of its soldiers in the art of combat, as well as Robb Stark, Theon Greyjoy and Jon Snow, and formerly Ned and Benjen Stark. He is the primary military advisor to House Stark of Winterfell. Rodrik is a knight, which is somewhat unusual in the North where most of the population holds to the Old Gods of the Forest. He fought in Robert's Rebellion and is an old friend of both Lord Eddard Stark and Jon Umber, the Lord of Last Hearth. His nephew Jory Cassel also fought in the rebellion and is the Captain of the guards at Winterfell. Rodrik is much beloved and respected by the inhabitants of Winterfell, and bears a distinct "muttonchop" facial hair pattern.

Jon quickly read it before he broke out into a cold sweat having seen through it. Right behind it was Ser Rodrik looking directly at him and the pane. Jon didn't know why he was so nervous about it, but he just had this feeling that he shouldn't be letting just anyone else see it yet. Just when he thought Ser Rodrik was going to question him about it...

"You're up early, Jon. Are you eager to train?"

Huh?

Wait. Did that mean that...

"What's wrong boy? Are you not fully awake yet?" The old knight asked, chuckling somewhat. Jon shifted his focus onto his teacher more, silently willing the pane to disappear. Which it did oddly enough.

"Um... a little Ser. I didn't sleep long last night."

Persuasive Lie successful! You've earned 3XP!
3/3500

'Go away!' Jon thought furiously which it did.

"Ah, well then let's wake you up by doing some training. I want you to..." Ser Rodrik stopped mid-sentence before he scrutinized Jon more closely making the young man suppress a fidget. Had he finally seen something about the book?

"Aren't you cold wearing just that?" Apparently he had, just not what Jon had feared, but it was true. Jon's current outfit wasn't exactly the warmest for the present weather. Among everyone who was beginning to mill about clad in furs and cloaks, clutching them at times, Jon must have looked completely at home with the chilly winds breezing through the courtyard.

"I'm fine. To be perfectly honest I don't really feel it much right now." Jon waited for another pane to pop up, but it didn't. There was no persuasion or experience, nothing.

"I see. In that case grab some leather armor and a practice sword. Then we'll get started." Jon nodded before turning around and going to the racks. He stood in front of some leather armor. Reaching out for it, he stopped himself having remembered what had happened earlier with his clothing. Jon looked over his shoulder to spot anyone who might look his way. While the courtyard was now filled with people working carts and supplies in preparation for the King's arrival, none were paying any sort of attention to him. He touched the leather armor, but instead of it disappearing, another window opened up in front of him.

Do wish to equip: [Leather Armor]?
[Yes] or [No]

Jon immediately thought 'yes' and the armor was on him in an instant. Still checking to see anyone watching, he moved over to the weapon rack with sparring swords. All of them were blunted, not having a proper edge like the live steel swords the guards constantly wore at their sides, but they could still do some damage if they struck flesh. He looked over the assortment presented on the rack. The Sword-fighting perk showed itself in true form as Jon instantly knew what sword was what simply by looking at their lengths from tip to pommel. There were shortswords, longswords, and a few bastard swords. Jon picked a bastard sword from its place on the rack, not because he was a bastard, as Theon once said, but because it was the best, to Jon anyway.

Do you wish to equip: [Blunted Bastard Sword]?
[Yes] or [No]

With a mental nod, the blunted blade was in his hand. He raised it up looking at it. The big difference between a shortsword and longsword were the lengths of the blades with the longsword obviously having the longer reach. However, they both had the same length in grip. A shortsword was much more maneuverable, but without enough reach, it was a bit of a risk to use. A greatsword outclassed both swords in both blade length and grip length with enough room for two hands. The downside to it was that it required one to use both hands on account of its considerable weight and left little maneuverability for anything besides swinging. A bastard sword, however, had the blade length of a longsword, and the grip length similar to a greatsword making it much more versatile than either one. This was why it was Jon's favorite over the others. He could swing and thrust easily with one or both hands. There was something different with how he held the blade now that he thought of it. Maybe it was the Sword-fighting perk or his Melee skill, or perhaps both.

It was much easier to handle than before, he observed, after giving a few practice swings. Satisfied he went back over to Ser Rodrik.

"I've done as you asked Ser Rodrik. What do you want me to do?" Jon asked. Ser Rodrik didn't answer immediately. He had watched Jon as he approached the racks moments ago. The lad had acted strangely, spacing out somewhat, yet he now held his sword far better than he'd ever done before. Was it luck or...?

"Seeing as Lord Robb, Theon, or any of the other recruits are not here yet, I'll give you a choice." Jon looked up to the white whiskered Master-at-Arms with a raised eyebrow, something which brought an old image of the boy's father to the old knight's mind, "We can start by reviewing the fundamentals or go right to free training."

Jon almost blurted out to go right to free training before he stopped himself. Free training would allow himself to freely fight to his heart's content, but if he were to go over the basics of fighting with these new abilities factoring in, he might learn how to use them far better than alone.

"I think I should work on the basics. Even the best knights need to hone the fundamentals, right?" Ser Rodrik nodded his head in approval.

"Very good, Jon, very good. Keep that mindset and you'll be a fine swordsman in your own right someday. Now ready your sword!" Ser Rodrik brought out his own blunted longsword and shield before taking a defensive stance, "Come!"

Quest: Back to the Basics
Description: You've chosen to start with the basics instead of free training. Train with the Master-at-Arms and relearn how to fight by sparring.
Objective: Do as Ser Rodrik instructs until he calls it off.
Rewards: 500XP and ?
Optional Objective: Make fewer than three mistakes during this training session 0/3
Bonus Reward: ? and ?
Failure: Quitting early or losing 75% of health.
Failure Penalties: Loss of respect from Winterfell's Master-at-Arms, guardsmen, and your brothers.

Damn, those penalties looked very harsh. He didn't want to be a disappointment to them. After a quick, and nervous, glance at it, Jon willed the window away as Ser Rodrik barked, "What are you waiting for?! Quick cuts, one, two, three!" Jon charged at him before making a slash at the man's left flank, then his right and again his left. Each attack was blocked and parried away.

"Again!" Jon did as he was told this time reversing the pattern by attacking from Rodrik's right first, but each strike was blocked anyway, though Ser Rodrik did look to put a little more effort at the sudden change in direction.

"Good. Strong strikes, now. Give it all you got!" Jon gripped his sword with both hands, putting all his weight and power behind the next few strikes. His sword arced through the air, steel ringing as the edges met, but was still warded away each time by the older man's shield, "Never lock your elbows when striking, Jon!"

Jon realized his error too late as another window pane showed up before disappearing.

Optional Objective: Make fewer than three mistakes during this training session 1/3

'Shit!' Jon mentally cursed upon seeing that. Without any warning Ser Rodrik leapt at Jon with a quick attack of his own forcing Jon on the defense now. The knight's longsword arced down from above forcing Jon to block. Their blades clattered and shook against each other as neither man was willing to give in, but Jon realized that he would lose this particular struggle when his sword started to dip down as Ser Rodrik's strength of 60 began to overpower Jon's strength of 25. He realized that Ser Rodrik had won this one and dipped his sword before attempting to move back.

New Skill Unlocked: Blocking

The sudden appearance proved to be a grave distraction as Ser Rodrik wasn't showing any sign of withdrawal as he followed up with a quick uppercut with his pommel which scored Jon right in his padded torso. While the padding took the full brunt of it, Jon could still feel the rest of the blow. That was when he finally noticed something. At the corner of his vision were three small colored lines with red, green, and blue. The red and green looked a bit shorter than the blue.

Health: 92/105
Stamina: 130/150
Mana: 150/150

"Get your head out of the clouds, Jon!" Ser Rodrik ordered as he attacked again. This time Jon dodged and kept himself moving. He raised his sword up as he and Ser Rodrik circled one another. Jon could already guess that his stamina had gotten low because of how he had tried to hold back Ser Rodrik and his stronger attacks. As for the health, Jon was a little surprised he lost that much just by one hit, and from a pommel no less! As expected from someone so high leveled. Ser Rodrik suddenly leapt at him again, but Jon merely dodged. Unfortunately, Jon was still too close and this time instead of the pommel it was the whole blade. He had managed to block it, but it hadn't been the quick attack he'd been expecting. It had been a strong attack. He should've seen it the moment Ser Rodrik drew it back with both of his hands, but he foolishly thought that Ser Rodrik wouldn't be able to make a properly strong attack. It hadn't dawned on Jon that being a Master-at-Arms meant being master of arms that could do any attack with any weapon until this moment. And he paid for his ignorance.

The block he managed to pull up barely blunted the attack. The force of it pushed his blade back into his own armor and Jon suddenly felt his feet come off the ground, the wind knocked out of him. For a few short seconds, Jon thought he had been flying before his back crashed onto the muddy ground sliding still from the force of the attack. Pain radiated in his chest as he coughed trying to breathe. He rolled onto his before standing back up albeit more gingerly than before.

Optional Objective: Make fewer than three mistakes during this training session 2/3

That just added salt on the wound for him. The previous two mistakes following the first mistake must have been some sort of concession since it was the book's fault on those. That had to have been why they didn't count. This meant that it had been Jon's own fault for messing up, and that left him far more sore than where Rodrik had just struck him. From a distance he thought he heard some chuckles or sympathetic groaning, but he bade it no mind.

"Perhaps that is the most you can do with the basics. You haven't usually lasted any further than this." Ser Rodrik said in a neutral voice, but Jon could just imagine the disappointment lying underneath it. Jon's hand gripped his sword tightly feeling angry at himself for not being stronger than this, for feeling humiliated about his own shortcomings. Had that book just been lying?! Then something pierced through the veil of anger.

'You haven't usually lasted any further than this.' Was what Ser Rodrik had said and he was right. Jon had brought his endurance up since he had gotten this book. It did change him! A quick look at his health was proof of that.

Health: 53/105
Stamina: 140/150
Mana: 150/150

While it may not look good to anyone else, to Jon that showed the book had changed him somewhat, but the book obviously can't do all that work. He had been arrogant in thinking so. It was as if a fire had been lit inside his belly as he raised his sword towards Ser Rodrik who looked back in pleasant surprise.

"Again." Jon stated cooly before taking a new stance. Ser Rodrik readied himself before striking. This time, instead of dodging or blocking, Jon rolled away from the knight, not caring about the mud clinging to his vest. Getting up, Jon knew he had put some distance between himself and the Master-at-Arms. Ser Rodrik closed the distance between the two of them in seconds. For a moment, it wasn't Ser Rodrik in front of him, but the blue-eyed specter in his dream. Jon felt some hesitation before a familiar fire returned and this time he successfully parried the quick attack.

New Fighting Stances Unlocked: Domination, Defense, Intensity

His stamina fell by ten points, but it regenerated back. Information loaded into Jon's mind. He was assaulted with flashes of people fighting in all sorts of ways before he shook himself out. Ser Rodrik attacked this time from his right. Jon didn't block or parry, but he struck his blade against the older man's sword. This time though, Jon wasn't feeling overpowered. He wasn't winning this clash of swords, but he wasn't losing it either. It almost seemed as if he and his opponent were evenly matched in strength. Jon forced himself out of the deadlock by using one of Ser Rodrik's previous moves against him, shoving his own pommel into his opponent's chest. The old man, surprised by the attack, moved back which Jon pressed to his advantage with a series of quick attacks before throwing a strong one into the mix, continuing to catch the knight off-guard. Jon continued his onslaught until...

"Stop!" Ser Rodrik ordered with a raised hand. Jon stopped, his fiery determination came down from a raging fire to a slow simmer, looking at his teacher with caution just in case. Ser Rodrik looked proudly at him before he started chuckling, "Well done, Jon. You surprised me. Were you holding back all these years?"

"I... I don't think so. I guess I really wanted to win." Jon said as he saw Ser Rodrik's own health.

Ser Rodrik Cassel
Health: 168/175
Stamina: 150/175

"Really wanting to win, eh? In that case, you should keep up doing whatever it is you're doing. It's been a while since a recruit got the better of me in a spar." Jon wanted to laugh with the Master-at-Arms, but all he could do was cough which didn't really sound good. From the look on Ser Rodrik's face, it didn't sound good to him either.

"Hmmm." He stroked one of his fingers through his long white whiskers, "I may have hit you too hard in that spar. Sorry lad."

"It's fine, Ser Rodrik. I'm-" Just then he coughed again this time into his hand. He looked down into it and his eyes widened. There in the palm of his hand was blood. Now that he wasn't fighting anymore, there was pain blooming right inside his chest.

Warning! You have been injured with [Coughing up Blood]: -15% Stamina

"That can't be good." Ser Rodrik said, having come up to him looking somewhat worried, "You'd best see Maester Luwin, lad. You're excused for today." Jon looked to argue, but the old knight merely gave him a stern gaze which brooked no argument. Ser Rodrik knew that Jon wanted to continue on. The boy trained everyday, but when you start coughing up blood it was best not to leave it to chance. Besides, Jon had impressed him today showing a remarkable improvement of his skills. He almost thought that he had harmed the boy too much. Though having coughed up some blood, he may have gotten a little too excited in the fight. For a moment, he had forgotten that the boy wasn't a seasoned soldier.

Jon, seeing his teacher wasn't going to take no for an answer, nodded and went on his way towards the Maester's Turret on the other side of the castle. He didn't get very far when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Jon, are you alright?" It was Robb looking concerned. Jon hadn't noticed that he, Theon and the other recruits had arrived and watched the spar. So they were what he had heard earlier.

"Aye, no need to worry." Jon said, trying not to show any of the pain he felt. It might've worked on anyone else, but not Robb. He knew Jon. He knew what made him angry, when he was trying to lie, when he was sad, and when he was covering something up.

Lie Failed

Damn.

"Jon." Robb prompted sounding like their-no, his, lord father. With a sigh, which felt shortened from the pain in his chest, he showed Robb his bloodied palm.

"I'm going to go see Maester Luwin and I've been dismissed from today's training." Upon seeing the worry increase on his brother's face Jon reassured him, "I'm sure it's nothing serious. Don't worry, Stark, I'll be back tomorrow ready to beat you in a spar." Though from what he could see, he might not be that ready, even by then.

Robb Stark

Title: Lord, Heir to Winterfell
Level: 12
Attributes:
Strength: 31
Perception: 29
Endurance: 35
Charisma: 40
Intelligence: 34
Agility: 28
Will: 40
Luck: 50

"Ha! Fine then! Come at me when you're at your best, Snow, and we'll see who's better." Robb said in a challenging jest before turning serious, "Just be sure to be at your best. Okay, brother?" Jon would've chortled in happiness if his chest didn't feel like it had some sort of weight on it right now.

"Of course. Now you might want to get back over there. I think Ser Rodrik misses you." At that exact moment...

Quest: A Spar between Brothers
Description: You've been his brother and best friend, but also his rival. He's seen you test yourself against Ser Rodrik, now he wishes to test himself against you. You and Robb will spar tomorrow.
Objective: Spar against Robb.
Rewards: 500XP and ?
Optional Objective: Win
Bonus Reward: ?
Failure: Throw the spar.
Failure Penalties: Loss of respect from your siblings and Uncle as well as your peers and ?

There was something about that question mark on the Failure Penalties that made Jon shiver ever so slightly.

"Lord Robb! Fall in line!" He heard Ser Rodrik bark. Robb tensed before he nodded to Jon and headed back over to the group. Jon, in turn, continued toward the turret ignoring Ser Rodrik's orders for the rest to get in pairs and spar each other like he and Jon did. Jon moved past the library tower, then the kitchens, smelling all manner of food including bacon, until he finally arrived at his destination. It was just a climb up the steps to see Maester Luwin and hopefully get healed. Before he took that first step, however, he noticed that this particular spot held no people or any way for him to be seen. He unequipped the leather armor as he took out his book which then turned to a new page.

Quest Completed: Back to the Basics
Objective Completed: Do as Ser Rodrik instructs until he calls it off.
Optional Objective Completed: Make fewer than three mistakes during this training session 2/3
Rewards: 500XP and + 5 Rep with Ser Rodrik Cassel
Bonus Reward: 500XP and a permanent +5 to Melee
Unlocked Skill: Blocking
Unlocked Fighting Stances: Defense, Domination, Intensity Stance

Experience: 1003/3500

Jon was thrilled about completing his first quest, but he was curious about these Stances over the Blocking skill since it was easy to discern what that part was. A few quick page turns revealed them for what they were with illustrations of a nocked bow and arrow, a large axe, a shield with a sword in front of it, a dagger, and a small club.

Stances are the various ways of using your weapons in battle. Each stance focuses on a certain way to use certain weapons. These are generally sorted by using one-handed, two-handed, or ranged weapons with each stance dependent on one or a combination of two skills. Stances have an array of abilities which require Stance Points to unlock.
Stance Points to use: [6]

He turned to the next page to see that the Defense Stance was the first of them.

Defense Stance: A stance preferred by Landed Knights, Defense enables you to fight long battles and increases your chances of survival. This stance requires a one-handed weapon and a shield, and thus is dependent on the average of your Melee and Blocking skills to fully master it.
Current Mastery: [29/100]

So he was going to need to fill his Melee and Blocking skills for this one? Still he was relatively well off with it. He studied the page, noting how all of the supposed abilities were placed in an order that formed a shield. Then what about the next one? The page turned and revealed the Domination Stance with its abilities vaguely forming a sword pointing down.

Domination Stance: A stance preferred by most Hedge Knights, Domination is about using your physical strength to gain the upper hand on your opponents. This stance requires a two-handed weapon, and is thus dependent on only your Melee skill in mastering it.
Current Mastery: [43/100]

By the Old Gods! This stance seemed almost perfect for him! But what was this about knights? Now that he thought about it, Ser Rodrik was a Landed Knight, and he used both a sword and shield in their spar. Jon was no knight, but he preferred going without a shield and instead just use a blade. He turned to the next page to next stance.

Intensity Stance: This stance was devised and perfected by the Water Dancers of Braavos. A style of combat that allows one to combine deftness, speed and agility. By relying on your agility and your responsiveness to take advantage of your opponents' weaknesses, you become a highly effective swordsman. This stance requires a one-handed weapon, and is thus dependent on only your Melee skill in mastering it.
Current Mastery: [43/100]

So he had a stance that was for a weapon and shield, a stance that required a two-handed weapon of some sort, and a stance solely for a one-handed weapon. All right, he could work with that.

Jon moved the book out of his face as he coughed harshly once before forcing himself to stop. With a few strangled coughs he looked down on the ground to see a few dark droplets of blood dotting it. He wiped his mouth. There was a small amount of blood on his glove as he took his hand away. Jon brought the book up to his face again wondering if it could tell more about how Ser Rodrik had injured him.

The book turned of its own accord this time to show him what the injuries were about. And there were several types too.

Injuries are typically received when dealt an otherwise lethal blow, or several regular blows to the same area. Once an injury is inflicted you must receive medical aid from a maester, woods witch, hedge wizard or apply it yourself. While injuries can heal over time, it is discouraged due to the long length of time it would take for one to heal without aid as one can receive multiple injuries at once or over any given amount of time. This in turn potentially puts your life at greater risk.

List of injuries and their effects:
Bleeding: -50% Health Reg
Gaping Wound: -50 Health
Open Wound: -100 Health
Torn Jugular: -30 Endurance
Coughing up Blood: -15% Stamina
Damaged Eye: -10 Perception per eye
Deafened: -10 Perception per ear
Concussion: -30 Perception
Head Trauma: -30 Willpower
Cracked Skull: -50 Intelligence
Wrenched Limb: -20% Attack Speed per limb
Broken Bone: -15 Agility
Crushed Arm: -20 Strength per arm

Okay, so he had to definitely see Maester Luwin and make sure he knew how to heal himself. He really did not want to receive any of the rest of these after seeing how lucky he was. Though Bleeding may have been less than what he had depending on who you asked. Jon closed the book before walking up the steps. It took no time at all really, but Jon's mind was elsewhere. He knocked on the door to the turret before he heard, "Come in!"

He entered to see Maester Luwin. Winterfell's resident Maester was a small grey man with matching eyes and thinning hair. He wore a grey wool robe with voluminous sleeves as customary for all Maesters of the Citadel. Jon knew that those sleeves had pockets sewn into them. As a child, as well as all the Stark siblings, he had thought Maester Luwin had been a wizard or something as he always seemed to be pulling things from those sleeves. He actually remembered Arya making the elderly man roar with laughter when she asked him to pull a chicken out from his sleeve one day. His maester's collar or chain of multiple links which each, if he recalled his lessons right, was a symbol of the fields he studied in was a mere choker unlike the more heavier ones he'd been told of. Jon gave the Maester's Turret a glance over.

"As cluttered as ever." Jon mumbled as he spotted a bronze far-eye of Myr in the corner next to several stacks of paper. Maester Luwin turned around to see Jon.

"Oh Jon, what are you doing here?" Maester Luwin asked inquisitively. Jon wasn't one to come up here unless someone sent him, "Does someone require something of me?"

"I may have been injured in a spar earlier this morning, Maester. Ser Rodrik sent me here to make sure it wasn't anything too serious."

"Ser Rodrik Cassel sent you? My, you must have had him spooked if he didn't tell you to simply walk it off. Well, what seems to be ailing you?" Okay, Jon just had to calmly explain what happened and all would be well.

"In short, it's-" A sudden and violent cough cut him off, forcing him to place a hand over his mouth. Once it was over he took his hand away to see more blood was on it than before. He showed his bloodied palm to Maester Luwin whose eyes widened, "that."

"Gods above, boy!" Maester Luwin ushering towards a chair before making him sit down. Maester Luwin was going all over the room grabbing things. When he apparently had everything he needed, he sat down right beside him and began to examine him while asking questions about what and how it happened. As Jon explained it, he had to make sure not to inadvertently paint Ser Rodrik as a man who is overly tough on his recruits. This was just one time that got out of hand. Maester Luwin seemed to understand well enough, saying that Jon hadn't always been the toughest of the recruits. Jon figured that must have been his 10 Endurance points at work for most of his life. It must have made him seem fragile. After a short examination, Maester Luwin gave him something to drink to help both, ease the pain and the healing process. It tasted pretty foul, but Jon could tell it was working wonders already. Maester Luwin really knew his stuff.

"How are you feeling now?" Maester Luwin asked.

"A little better now actually. What was that?" Jon said standing up. He felt a bit lightheaded, but nothing too bad.

"That was a poultice with a few drops of milk of the poppy."

"Milk of the poppy?" Jon had heard of it, but all he knew was that it stopped pain. Maester Luwin nodded.

"Yes. It is extracted from the poppy flower. We use it as a pain killer more often than not or as a means putting someone to sleep if sweetsleep is unavailable. A full potion of it looks like a thick white liquid, thus it is called milk of the poppy." Maester Luwin explained coming back into his lecturing tone of voice he used when he taught Robb and Jon as children.

"You should use that stuff more often. It works so well." Jon said as he stretched no pain at all. He looked back at Maester Luwin who was given him a more stoic stare now.

"No, I don't believe I should." Jon looked at him curiously due to the change in behavior.

"What's the problem with it?" Maester Luwin stared at him, as if trying to figure out if he should say anything or not before he finally relented.

"Milk of the poppy is highly addictive, my boy. Once enough of it is consumed one gets what people call 'poppy dreams.' They apparently see things that are not there and people are said that they look like other things ranging from creatures to other people. That is if you do not fall asleep from it first." With that Jon nodded as Maester Luwin returned to what he had been doing earlier. Jon walked over to the door ready to leave when he suddenly stopped. Today he had gotten stronger, so much faster than he thought was possible and he still got hurt. Even if he did level up, he could still receive multiple injuries. He turned to look at Maester Luwin's back. The Maester had been here today. But what about in the future? When he was far from Winterfell?

Jon held no delusions that he would live here to the end of days. He knew so long as Lady Catelyn believed him to be her husband's bastard son, she would never let him live here in peace, even if Robb became Lord of Winterfell and kept him here. And to be perfectly honest, he had no wish to spend his entire life here. Not anymore at least. When he saw that map of Westeros, he knew he wanted to color it in. He wanted to visit those places and find new ones. But the world outside the walls of Winterfell was dangerous even to the toughest of warriors. Jon needed everything he could get. Knowledge was becoming more and more precious, he began to realize.

He nodded his head, mind made up. He turned back fully to Maester Luwin, determined.

"Maester?" The old man jumped a bit having thought he had left.

"Jon! You startled me! Goodness!" He placed a hand over his chest trying to slow his heartbeat. Looking back at his Lord's bastard son, any and all jest was gone. Jon Snow had the look of a man who had just made a big decision in his life. In fact he looked much like his lord father in that regard, then again, Lord Robb looked like it too sometimes, but ever rarely like this.

"Yes, Jon?" There was no hesitation when the Bastard of Winterfell spoke.

"Could you please teach me about alchemy?"

Jon Snow

Title: Bastard of Winterfell
Level: 6
Attributes:
Strength: 25
Perception: 20
Endurance: 20
Charisma: 20
Intelligence: 20
Agility: 25
Will: 35
Luck: 30

Skills:
Alchemy: 20
Armor: 16
[Blocking: 15]
Lockpick: 17
Marksmanship: 22
Magic: 19
Melee: [43]
Politics: 15
Riding: 27
Sneak: 22
Speech: 15
Survival: 15
Tactics: 20
Unarmed: 27

Perks:
Skinchanger
Blood of the Dragon
Hydromancy
Basic Riding
Short Bows
Miscellaneous Weaponry
Sword-fighting
Tracking
Hunting
Persuade and Lie
Light Armor
Herblore
Combat Training
Wolf's Blood

This seems like a good place to stop.

Please like, review, and hope you all enjoyed it!