A new setting. A new body.
The first thought that crossed Twig's mind was simple — I transmigrated again.
[Ding!] "Host, no — you have not transmigrated to another world. You initiated the class advancement mission."
"Mission...? What do you mean, my mission?" he asked, looking around, confused. "I'm in the middle of a city... there's a castle in the distance, I can see it. And all these people... Gods, it's been so long since I've seen this many people together. I'm not even used to it anymore. And what's that awful smell?"
[Ding!] "Host, this is King's Landing — the main city of Westeros, home of the Iron Throne, where the king sits... and where the Game takes place. Understood?"
"I'm in King's Landing? And this body... why isn't this my body?"
[Ding!] "Host, this body is the avatar you will use to complete your mission. You must prove the true worth of a knight. Only then will you earn the right to advance your class."
"The true worth of a knight...? What does that even mean?"
[Ding!] "Host, that question must be answered by you. Do not seek answers — seek discovery. Explore the city. Uncover your own identity. Perhaps then you will find the true worth of a knight and complete your mission."
"Oh, come on, System…" Twig muttered, frowning. "You weren't much help during my swordsman advancement either — and now this?"
"Ser...? Ser Monde...?"
Twig turned toward the voice. A young boy — maybe ten or eleven years old — stood nearby, watching him with concern.
"Ser Monde, are you all right? You stopped in the middle of the road."
"Who's this kid? He knows me? He's talking to me?" Twig thought, trying to understand what was happening.
[Appraisal]
[Ding!]
Name: Madrik
Age: 11
Title: Squire of Ser Monde Rouster
Race: Human
"Madrik? You're talking to me?" Twig asked.
"Yes, ser…" the boy replied, straightening his simple tunic. His face showed a mix of respect and relief at being recognized. "I thought you'd forgotten something. You stood still for a while, staring into the distance... like you weren't really here."
"Ah… I see. So Monde must be my name," Twig thought. "And this kid must be my squire. That makes sense — considering this armor I'm wearing."
He took a deep breath, still confused.
"So I'm in King's Landing… the capital of Westeros. Really?" he thought. "And… what point in time is this? I need to figure it out."
He turned to the boy beside him.
"You hungry, Madrik? Let's find something to eat."
"Oh— do you wish to eat, ser?" the boy asked hesitantly.
"Yes," Twig replied. "Do you know a good place nearby?"
Madrik thought for a moment. "Yes, ser. There's a tavern close by. I can take you there if you wish."
Twig nodded. "Very well, Madrik. Lead the way."
When they reached the tavern, Twig told the boy to make the introductions, choose a table, and order something simple — food and drink for both of them.
Madrik blinked in surprise.
"For me too, Ser Monde? You'll share a meal with me… at the tavern?"
Twig raised an eyebrow.
"What do you mean, little Madrik? Is it that rare for me to offer you food?"
"No, ser — you always feed me," the boy replied quickly. "Just… not with you, inside the tavern."
"Well, today you will eat, Madrik. The best this place can offer — with me."
As he said that, Twig realized something.
"Wait… do I even have money?"
He turned toward the boy, thoughtful.
"Well… assuming I do, of course."
Madrik discreetly glanced at a small pouch hanging from Twig's belt. Noticing it, Twig reached for it, felt its weight, and opened it. Inside, golden coins gleamed faintly.
Gold dragons.
"Well… looks like we can afford a decent meal, can't we?"
The knight and his squire sat down. Soon, a servant brought them food and ale. Nothing fancy — a simple tavern meal — but that didn't matter to Twig.
Madrik devoured his food eagerly, while Twig listened carefully to the chatter around them, hoping to catch something useful — some clue about where or when he was.
But nothing stood out.
Sighing, Twig turned his attention back to the boy.
"You're a sharp lad, Madrik. But since you're my squire — and seem to know more about me than I do — tell me: what are we doing here in King's Landing? Why are we in the capital?"
The boy's eyes widened. He hesitated, clearly nervous, before answering:
"Ser Monde, from what you told me, we came here to participate in a tourney."
"A tourney?" Twig repeated, intrigued. He recalled how, in Game of Thrones, tourneys were major events — grand spectacles full of knights, nobles, and endless intrigue.
"So, Madrik… this tourney — do you know why it's being held?"
"Well… I believe it's to celebrate the birth of King Viserys' first son," the boy said carefully, watching Twig's reaction as if afraid to say something wrong.
"Viserys? You're sure it's not King Aerys Targaryen?" Twig asked, frowning.
"No, ser — I remember what you told me!" Madrik said quickly. "King Viserys Targaryen sits the throne. The old king, Jaehaerys Targaryen, called a great council to choose his heir. The choice was between Viserys and Rhaenys Velaryon — the queen who never was."
Twig stared at him for a moment, taken aback by the accuracy of his words.
"Wait a second… I remember that. That's from House of the Dragon! It takes place long before Game of Thrones!"
The realization dawned slowly.
"So… that means I'm in the past?"
"System, did you send me back in time?" he asked in thought, waiting for the metallic voice to answer.
Silence.
No response.
Twig frowned. "System? Are you there? System?"
Nothing.
"Seriously? Now it's not answering? Am I supposed to complete this mission without any help?"
"Ser Monde... did I say something wrong?" Madrik asked anxiously. "You won't… abandon me, will you?"
Twig blinked, then let out a small laugh. The stern look on his face softened as he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Relax, kid. I'm not going anywhere. I was just testing you."
He smiled gently.
"Remember — a knight must be strong, wise… and above all, courageous."
"Besides, boy, I can't send you away just yet. You'll need to show me where this tourney is being held," Twig said with a faint grin. "Once we're done eating, we'll head there."
"Yes, Ser Monde!" Madrik replied, visibly excited by his master's lighter tone.
After their meal, it didn't take long for the boy to lead him toward the tourney grounds. The event was held outside the city walls.
When they reached the great arena prepared for the occasion, Twig and Madrik were stopped by the city guards.
"State your name, ser," one of them demanded. "We need to confirm your identity before entry."
Twig straightened his back, doing his best to sound like a real knight.
"Greetings. I am Ser Monde… Rouster."
The guards exchanged puzzled looks.
"Rouster? You ever heard of that name?"
"No idea. Maybe some hedge knight?"
"Call the captain. He'll know."
Twig stayed silent, keeping his composure. Madrik fidgeted nervously beside him as a tall man in polished armor approached — clearly the captain.
"You're Ser Monde Rouster?" the man asked.
"Yes, that's me," Twig replied calmly.
"And which house do you serve?" the captain pressed. "Your name doesn't appear among the knights sworn to any noble banners present here."
Twig hesitated for an instant. Right… this avatar probably doesn't serve any house.
"Well, here goes nothing," he thought.
"I am a hedge knight," he said proudly. "I serve no lord. I came only to test my skill — and perhaps, if the gods will it, earn the favor of a noble house."
The captain studied him in silence, eyes narrowing slightly.
"A hedge knight, then," he said at last. "Well-equipped, I'll give you that. But I'm not sure I should let you in. Your presence might dishonor the event."
Twig reacted quickly. "I have no intention of dishonoring the event, Captain. On the contrary — I'm a skilled swordsman. Confident in my blade, and ready to prove it. Have some faith, good man. I'll show you a battle worth watching. What do you have to lose?"
The captain regarded him quietly, then smirked.
"I've nothing to lose, ser. But you — you may lose your life. If your sword isn't as sharp as your tongue, you won't last long. You'd better value your life more than your pride."
Twig smiled faintly. "Your concern for my safety is touching, Captain. But I assure you, there's no need to worry. My skill with the sword is considerable. You'll witness an exceptional fight today."
The captain frowned. "Fine. Enter, then — and if you're so eager to die, that's your choice. Guards, let the knight through. Let's see what he's made of."
Twig exhaled in relief, glanced at his young squire, and stepped forward toward the arena.
Whatever awaited him there… would define the worth of a true knight.