Game of Thrones: I Created the Magic Web

Chapter 147: Contract Achieved

The hall of Rain House City was undamaged.

Bathed in the intense glow of light magic, the hall was even more magnificent and radiant than usual, resembling a palace where victors gathered.

But the atmosphere was clearly not so light and joyful.

Outside the hall.

Soldiers who had landed and entered the city were still searching everywhere, voices calling for help rising and falling, occasionally mixed with screams of agony.

Inside the hall.

Joffrey sat high on the throne.

A group of generals and courtiers stood in the hall below the steps, silently, their eyes fixed on a mother and son in the middle of the hall.

Bran Stark, wearing chainmail and hardened leather armor, with a six-pointed star cloak fastened on, fulfilled his duties as a servant, offering fine wine to the seated Joffrey, his eyes also involuntarily glancing at the mother and son below.

This war was different from what Bran had imagined.

Cavalry charges were nowhere to be seen, and decisive battles with swords were almost non-existent, only the booming of ship cannons filled with terrifying and mysterious power.

Bran's expectations were dashed.

But from another perspective, this scene was even more shocking than he had originally imagined, possessing a strange charm that was hard to describe, more captivating than the scenery from the tower and the clash of swords.

Knights, magic, magic knights.

Bran knew he had climbed a much higher tower and seen a more distant world.

That world was full of the unknown and magical, with endless treasures waiting to be explored, and countless stories and legends waiting to be created.

Bran certainly could not shrink back.

He even solidified an even cooler dream: to become a Kingsguard with the most stories, to create the name of a mighty magic knight, even more resounding than the "Dragon Knight."

On the warship, Bran firmly believed this.

However.

What Bran saw and heard after entering Rain House City added a touch of melancholy to his heart.

The shattered stones and castle-shaking explosions were not all that the ship cannons had created, there were also more scenes that people were reluctant to recall.

Bran was not a child who had never seen blood.

His father's greatsword "Ice," dark as black smoke, swung down, and the head of a Night's Watch deserter rolled to the ground, a cavity of blood splashing on the snow, as red as the summer red of fine grape wine. Bran stared unblinkingly, directly at the bloodstains.

Martial arts training, horseback riding and archery, historical stories, all kinds of daily life were teaching him what combat and death were, teaching him to understand and accept, to dedicate and sacrifice.

Bran was well aware that war would kill people, many, many people.

People would fight for their sworn liege lord, for the beliefs in their hearts, for the king and faith, for their family and loved ones.

Death was indeed worth fearing, but people always had to be brave and take up their swords.

That was humanity.

Stories were born from war, history was created in swords, and families flourished in war.

But Bran had just learned that when ship cannons roared, castles and warriors would shatter together, shattering so ugly, so without dignity.

War had changed.

Castles were no longer impregnable fortresses, the terrible obstacles described at length in countless wars and epics, but graveyards for soldiers, targets for ship cannons.

The castles should be crying about this.

Knights were no longer holding longswords, falling bravely and regretfully, but a mixture of steel and flesh, a pile of mottled red mud, without any emotion.

Such death was undoubtedly the most terrible.

Bran even thought of Winterfell, wondering how many such attacks Winterfell and its tenacious defenders could withstand.

Fortunately, it was just a hypothetical. Winterfell was not an enemy of ship cannons, and Sansa was going to marry King Joffrey.

Rain House City was too unlucky, the Wylde family.

Bran recalled the heraldry taught by Maester Luwin, Wylde, a large blue-green whirlpool on a gold background, the family motto was "Call the Wind and Rain."

Unfortunately, what came this time was not ordinary wind and rain, but an unprecedented flood.

Bran looked at the mother and son in the hall with pity.

Joffrey turned to the Hound and asked, "Sandor, does the late Lord Wylde have no heirs?"

The Hound glanced outside the hall, "They're all dead."

Castellan Garth Wylde added, "Apart from his cousin's family, the next in line is Little Rickard."

Garth looked at the young boy in the woman's arms in the hall, his voice slightly fluctuating.

"Little Rickard's father died in the previous shelling."

"Fortunately, Lady Alysanne Valping is safe and sound. With her mother's careful care, Little Rickard will surely become a qualified lord, loyally serving His Majesty."

The woman in the hall bowed respectfully, her movements just right, without a trace of resentment on her face.

Joffrey knew that the first step today must be taken smoothly and cautiously, otherwise it would inevitably trigger more intense chaos and resistance.

Castellan.

Garth was a direct descendant of the Wylde family. If he hadn't joined the Kingsguard, Garth himself would have inherited the title of Lord at this time.

Using him as the first Castellan of Rain House City, the voices of protest would not be too loud.

Similarly, Alysanne Valping's family, the Valping family, was far away in the Riverlands and had almost no influence on Rain House City.

As a widow and orphan, and with the identity of a stubborn rebel, it was already great luck to be able to inherit the title and wealth without being deprived of everything. How dare they demand the power to rule?

At least until Rickard came of age, this mother and son would never dare to raise objections.

Five years was enough for Joffrey to achieve his goal.

Only a ceremony was missing.

Joffrey looked down at the plainly dressed Alysanne Valping, "Lady Alysanne, do you agree to let Ser Garth temporarily hold the title of 'Castellan' and administer the affairs of Rain House City for the Wylde family?"

Alysanne Valping's tone was respectful, "It is an honor for Little Rickard and Rain House City to have a good person like Ser Garth to preside over affairs."

Joffrey nodded faintly, "That's good. The Wylde family can live in peace, and Rain House City can continue to operate, fulfill its contract, and assist in quelling the rebellion. I can rest assured."

This was Joffrey's plan.

The nobles who had inherited their positions for generations only needed to enjoy wealth and honor, while the Castellans would be directly appointed by the royal family to carry out decrees and teach the people.

Of course, in the short term, it would only be a plan.

Considering the backlash from the old forces and the large number of elite talents in the noble class, the new Castellans would still be mainly appointed from the families of the various lords.

But there would still be the most important change:

The rulers would no longer be decided internally by the various families, but would be dominated by the will of the throne!

"Lord Rickard Wylde."

Joffrey beckoned to the eleven-year-old boy, "Come forward, accept the investiture, swear allegiance, and pass on the Wylde family."

Alysanne Valping encouraged her dazed son with a gentle look.

Rickard stepped forward alone, walking step by step to the king, kneeling on one knee, learning the oaths he had heard and seen before, and making a contract.

Joffrey placed one hand on the top of his head and released it after a long time.

"Contract achieved."

Chapter 147 has been reviewed, please forgive me

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