Welcome back DEARIES....
Enjoy đ.....
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Jon closed the door to Catelyn's chambers, the latch clicking shut with a heavy, satisfying sound.
The hallway was silent, save for the distant whistling of the wind through the cracks in the stone.
He stretched, his back popping in three places.
"Man, the medieval beds are terrible for lumbar support," he muttered, rubbing his lower back.
"I need to invent a memory foam mattress, I'd definetely make a killing."
He tapped the air. "System, inventory."
A blue semi-transparent grid appeared.
It was clean, minimalist...very iOS.
He selected the [Modern Hygiene Kit] he'd unlocked from the Hidden Matriarch quest which appeared right after he cummed on catelyn. A sleek black toiletry bag dropped into his hand.
He didn't wait as he walked straight to the nearest window, uncapped the tube of toothpaste...Arctic Mint and scrubbed his teeth right there in the hallway using a finger.
"Oh, sweet baby Jesus," he groaned as the minty burn hit his tongue. "I missed you, fluoride."
He spat out the foam into the courtyard below, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
He felt like a new man,clean man someone who wasn't going to die of gum disease at thirty.
He checked the time on his Smartphone. 10:45 AM
With Ned, Robb, and Theon gone...he was effectively the only man in Winterfell who mattered.
Bran was climbing walls or training, Rickon was eating dirt, and Ser Rodrik was busy trimming his whiskers.
"Free roam mode unlocked," Jon quipped, shoving the phone back into his pocket.
He walked toward the library tower. As he passed a pair of serving girls carrying baskets of laundry, they curtsied slowly.
Jon winked. "Ladies. Try not to freeze to death."
They giggled, blushing furiously as they scurried away.
Easy mode, he thought. But charisma won't save me when the White Walkers show up.
I need resources and guns. Or at least, really, really big crossbows.
He entered the library. It was dusty, smelling of old paper and rat droppings. Maester Luwin was absent, probably tending to a sick horse which was perfect.
Jon sat at the heavy oak table and pulled out the phone. He had 500 System Points burning a hole in his virtual pocket.
"System, open Shop."
The screen shifted.
The System Shop was like Amazon for Isekai protagonists.
* 1 Gold Dragon: 10 Points
* Modern Seeds (Potato/Corn): 100 Points per bag
* Blueprint: Distillation Apparatus: 200 Points
* Blueprint: Blast Furnace: 500 Points
* Skill: Swordsmanship (Expert): 1000 Points
* ..............??????
"Okay, I'm broke," Jon sighed. "But I have the internet."
He opened the browser and typed: 'How to make high-proof alcohol with medieval tech.'
The North was freezing and the People here drank ale that tasted like piss and wine that cost a fortune to import from the South.
If he could produce Vodka... a clear, strong, warming Vodka then he would own the economy, the Lords would love him and the smallfolk would worship him.
"Step one: Vodka," he muttered, taking a screenshot of a schematic. "Step two: Glass Greenhouses, Step three: Penicillin. If I can cure the shits, they'll make me King before white walkers even arrive."
But money was only half the equation.
He needed muscle.....Loyal muscle.
Robb had the Karstarks and Umbers.
Theon had the Ironborn useless as they were.... and Jon had... Ghost.
"I need a crew," he mused, leaning back in the chair. "And not the honorable Stark soldiers who will snitch on me to Daddy Ned the moment I do something shady."
He tapped the table rhythmically.
Westeros was full of trash, Bastards, broke orphans, criminals sent to the Wall, "broken men" left over from the last war, Society spat on them.
Perfect recruits
"If I offer them good food, warm clothes, and actual coin,not just promises of honor they'll follow me into hell," Jon plotted. "I'll create a private paramilitary company. The 'Black Wolf Security '. No.....'The Bastard's Legion'. Let's think about the name later."
He needed a base of operations for whatever he needs to do.....The Broken Tower? No, too close to Bran's climbing route. The Wolfswood? Maybe.
He checked his System Points again.
[Current Points: 500]
"System, purchase [Blueprint: Distillation Apparatus] and [10 Gold Dragons]."
[Transaction Complete. Remaining Points: 200]
A roll of parchment appeared on the table, detailed with diagrams that Maester Luwin would kill to understand and next to it, a heavy pouch clinked.
Jon opened the pouch.
Ten heavy, golden dragons shone in the dim light. It wasn't a fortune, but in the North, where copper counted for a lot, it was enough to start hiring.
"Phase One," Jon said, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. "Capitalism comes to Winterfell."
He stood up, pocketing the gold and the plans.
"I'm not just going to survive this Game of Thrones," he told the empty library. "I'm going to buy the damn board."
He turned to leave as he had to find a blacksmith who didn't ask questions, and then he had to find some bastards who were hungry enough to sell their souls.
Winter is coming, Jon thought, stepping out into the cold. And I'm going to sell it heated jackets.
Authors Note:-
Our New Jon has plans to do .
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Well wrote a new pokemon fic, a unique one with Pokemon in our Earth .
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