King Robert, who had come to The North, still hadn't given up his hunting hobby.
Almost every night for the past few days, the main course had been a wild beast personally hunted by the King. Wild bears, stags, wild boars with apples stuffed in their mouths...
Today was even earlier. As soon as dawn broke, the King dragged his good brother Eddard out.
Also accompanying them were Benjen Stark, Jory Cassel, Theon Greyjoy, Rodrik Cassel, Tyrion Lannister, and others.
Joffrey didn't go.
For various reasons, he was currently dragging Bran and Sansa around Winterfell.
The ruined, deserted tower suitable for secret meetings was naturally out of the question. His target was the mysterious and unknown Crypts.
Would the secrets of Winterfell be there?
Six soldiers worked together to pull open the massive, slanted weirwood door.
Bran led the way, Sansa held the Prince's arm, and the three descended the long, winding stone staircase deep underground.
The stairs were truly long.
The space was narrow and extended into a distant, unknown darkness. The further down they went, the colder and more biting the air became, as if they were heading towards an icy hell.
Although they carried lanterns, there seemed to be only light and no heat.
"It's so cold."
Sansa couldn't help but complain.
Joffrey took out Dragonflame, fully activating the Fire Magic Energy, and warmth and light returned to their surroundings.
Bran's eyes instantly lit up. "Wow, Your Highness, this sword is amazing!"
Joffrey laughed heartily. "How about this, Bran, when you become a knight, I'll give you a treasure sword no worse than this one?"
Bran took him completely seriously. "Your Highness must keep your word."
"Naturally."
Bran showed a brilliant smile.
The three continued forward.
The firelight filled the entire space, significantly reducing the terrifying atmosphere of the Crypts.
Along both sides of the passage stood sets of cold stone pillars. Between the pillars sat the stone statues of the Starks of Winterfell, who were the Kings in the North and the Lords of House Stark throughout history.
Iron swords rested on their laps to appease their wandering Souls, roaring Direwolves were carved at their feet, and behind them were the stone coffins containing their remains.
Joffrey could see the marks of time.
Many of the swords were reduced to only reddish-brown dust, barely maintaining the shape of a sword. How many years must that have taken?
He looked at the faces of the statues.
The statues were rough and ancient, solemn and dignified. He didn't know if the carvings resembled the real people, but it didn't matter since he didn't know any of them anyway.
He only knew some names.
Brandon the Builder, Brandon Ice Eyes, Theon the Hungry Wolf, Torren the King Who Knelt...
Joffrey knew.
Eddard, the second son raised by House Arryn, was truly an anomaly among the Stark lords.
The honorable Eddard had inherited more of House Arryn's "High as Honor," and the part of him that was "Winter Is Coming" had not yet fully awakened.
If Brandon the Wild Wolf hadn't been burned alive by the Mad King, Eddard would have become his elder brother's vassal instead of the ruler of The North, and House Stark wouldn't be the way it is today.
Joffrey also knew.
The traditional Starks carried the Wolf Blood and had always been wild and untamed, craving profit like a pack of wolves thirsting for blood. Who knew what glorious deeds these statues had accomplished, and how much blood they had shed?
Slowly passing by each statue, he felt as if he had read the long history of the Starks.
They stopped when they reached the last statue.
One statue tightly gripped a treasure sword in its hand, its face stern, with the distinctive long face of a Stark.
On either side of it were two statues, one male and one female, without iron swords.
Further back, there were empty spaces in the darkness.
"Bran, Sansa, this must be Lord Rickard, right?"
Joffrey bowed his head to the ancestors, then greeted Eddard's elder brother Brandon and sister Lyanna.
In a way, he owed his current position to these few. Without them, without the Tourney at Harrenhal, the Targaryens might still be sitting on the Iron Throne.
Checking in at the Crypts was a success.
As a fan, he should have been satisfied. But he didn't see any magical light.
"Do you know what's deeper inside?"
Joffrey planned to continue exploring.
Bran remembered the stories and legends told by the old wet nurse and Maester Luwin. All the horror had now turned into curiosity. "Nobody knows. Why don't we go and see? There must be something!"
Sansa grew even more frightened when she heard that.
"We've been in here for so long, won't they be worried outside? Let's go out first."
Bran looked at Joffrey expectantly.
"Your Highness, let's just go take a look, there must be something!"
Joffrey decided to send Sansa back first.
...
Unexpectedly, after going up, the number of people increased instead of decreasing.
The loud sounds of the two people running and chasing ahead echoed continuously in the narrow passage, and Joffrey felt helpless.
"Arya, Bran, don't get too excited, be careful not to hit the wall."
By this time, they had walked past the statues. Both sides of the passage were empty spaces carved out of stone, waiting for the Starks who would pass away in the future to occupy them.
This section of the path was longer and had more statues than before.
Joffrey felt that the Stark ancestors had considered things too far ahead. They had probably prepared graves for the Starks for thousands or even tens of thousands of years to come, showing how confident they were in the continuation of their family.
Bran and Arya suddenly turned back.
"Quick, go look, there are so many dead people there, no, so many bones!"
The dozen or so soldiers nearby immediately became serious.
"Your Highness, let's go back to the surface. Angry spirits will not show any mercy to the living, we must ensure your safety."
Of course, Joffrey would not back down. "They are just some bones, what's there to be afraid of?"
Bran and Arya quieted down for a rare moment. The soldiers cautiously walked ahead to scout the way, and finally, there was some mysterious atmosphere of exploration.
The firelight gradually pushed back the darkness ahead.
Crack~
A soldier's foot made a sound, and he immediately retreated several steps, bumping into another soldier.
Arya directly picked up a white piece. "These are those bones, they almost tripped me just now, luckily I reacted quickly."
Bran was not to be outdone. "I wasn't tripped at all."
Joffrey squatted down and examined it carefully. The bone was very ordinary, very brittle, and there was a lot of powder on the ground.
He didn't know how many years ago it was.
He pressed his finger on a bone and activated the Location Rune and Scout Rune.
Using the bone as a medium, he could locate other bones of the same corpse and scout the surrounding environment.
His "vision" shifted back and forth between many bones, frame after frame appearing and disappearing, the complex information challenging his thoughts and spirit.
Finally, he "saw" an ancient throne.
Joffrey stood up.
"There's nothing wrong here, the answer is ahead."
After a long trek, everyone passed through a vast and desolate underground hall unknown to anyone, and ahead was a more spacious hall.
The Black Stone Throne was quietly waiting there.
The Gods above.
The abandoned throne in Winterfell was already incredibly ancient and majestic.
That was the symbol of power for generations of Kings in the North.
And this throne.
So huge, so cold, so pure, exuding a chilling aura that words could not describe.
The soldiers uncontrollably knelt before it.
The Old Gods above.
This must be a throne worthy of the ancient Kings of Winter!
In front of the throne.
Bran and Arya stood still, as if their souls had been captured by the Black Stone Throne.
Joffrey saw the light of magic.
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