The road to the North was long. Longer than Levi ever imagined.

It had been nearly four months since the first swampberry sale, and now he found himself sitting atop a loaded wagon, chewing on a slice of dry cheese, and listening to the constant creak of wooden wheels grinding against mud and rock. The horizon stretched endlessly ahead winter-kissed hills and thinning woods.

He glanced down at his coin pouch, then opened his cheat engine. The numbers had stopped growing.

Gold: 56 (placed on the system list, not the silver stags)

Fifty-six golden dragons. That was all. A fortune in the eyes of a group of northern small village, but Levi knew better now. The cheat system his supposed miracle recognized only silver stags as currency. No matter how many dragons he earned, the number would never tick upward again.

"Figures," he muttered. "The one time I get rich, and it's in the wrong currency. Matters not anyways money is money if its unlimited why complain."

He closed the cheat window and looked around. Two wagons behind him, Harwin was riding a dark brown horse, speaking to one of the caravan leaders. Twenty wagons in total now. Packed with food, grain, ale, supplies, and the hopes of a lazy cheat-powered merchant who was rapidly learning the limitations of his so-called blessings.

The journey from White Harbor had not been easy. It took nearly five days to prepare after the meat and cheese fiasco. Levi had struggled to fill the wagons, buying wheat, grain, and dried meat whatever his system accepted.

Lizard meat was the cruelest joke. The one meat that worked. He tried pork, venison, even salt beef, only to see no change. He has tried any type of fish even a frog yet none applied to the system. Then he stumbled across a broken shop tucked near the river, and found the lizard meat again.

He had almost cried. He truly did not know why this was happening.

Still, he bought it.

Every bite mattered.

Now, nearly a month later, they were moving.

The caravan route followed the main trade roads as best it could, cutting through hill valleys and forests, sticking close to the King's Road where possible. White Harbor had been Levi's last glimpse of civilization on that scale.

The further north they traveled, the more sparse the land became villages tucked away like secrets, hamlets surrounding old keeps, and the occasional towering fortress that loomed above mist-covered marshland.

Each stop was an opportunity.

At every town, Levi made note of the local noble family. Sigils flew above longhouses and timbered halls boars, ravens, towers, bears. Most were unimpressed by a boy barely past his teens offering crates of swampberries and dried beans, but some listened. A few even tasted. He wanted to sell wood but they don't lack it.

They left behind names Levi began to memorize.

House Holt. House Ironsmith. House Slate. House Talhart. House Woods. House Cassel.

He has tried to memorize them but he can only mentally try. He would forget most if not all.

Most were minor families bannermen to House Stark but each held sway over a few hundred souls and had mouths to feed. Levi sold grain, beer, even bundles of firewood. Some nobles laughed at the swampberries and lizard meat. Others quietly bought them. He noticed the wealthier ones didn't mock it. They simply paid and moved on.

It was here, in this gradual spread of trade, that Levi's true journey began not the ride, but the realization.

He was not a merchant. Not truly. He was a gambler.

But now he was starting to learn.

With every new village, he made contact. With every new contact, he added a name to his growing list of allies and rivals. Not enemies no one took him seriously enough to be hated. But he was watched. Only out of curiosity.

Especially by other merchants.

Rumors began to spread.

"Some up jumped lad from White Harbor buying every wagon in sight."

"Flooding the roads with Swampberries and lizard meat."

"Giving away swampberries like they were silver."

They weren't wrong. Levi had spent like a man possessed.

And now the pressure was mounting.

At night, he sat with Harwin and some of the guards by the fire, listening to the quiet murmur of men sharing stories, sharpening blades, or playing dice.

"Word is another caravan left from White Harbor two days after us," said Harwin, tossing a stone into the fire. "Merchants with coin. Real ones. Might try to get ahead of us. Reach Winterfell first."

Levi chewed on a crust of bread. He had waited weeks before eating it. It triggered the system. Now he had enough to duplicate it. but it was as hard as stone.

"Let them come," Levi said, squinting at the fire. "They'll ride faster. Burn out sooner."

Harwin snorted. "You think like an old mule sometimes."

Levi raised his chunk of bread like a toast. "Thanks, but if i trade with so much swampberries, lizard meat, and who knows maybe this hard bread with salt. I wonder who'll be called a mule"

The other guards laughed.

He'd grown familiar with a few of them especially ten who weren't part of Harwin's original hires but joined the caravan after seeing Levi's coin.

They were a mixed lot.

Half were Northmen hard-eyed, shaggy-bearded men with simple weapons and thick accents. The other half were Southerners. Leaner, younger, more talkative. Some had been sellswords. Others failed apprentices. One, an older man named Byren, claimed to have once guarded a noble from the Vale.

Each had a story.

Each had reason to work and follow.

And Levi, to his own disbelief, had begun to listen.

Winterfell loomed ever closer.

They would arrive in another fortnight, perhaps less. The road had been fair, Only few bandits, few delays but the strain was showing. Supplies were stretching thin, and Levi was forced to start using the system again, Increasing a hundred of lizard meat, hard bread and swampberries . The trick was not to do too much. Not all at once. It had to seem real. Plausible.

He had to act like a man with hidden reserves, not a walking miracle.

One night, as snow began to fall lightly on the camp, Levi stared at his coin pouch again.

He pulled up the system window.

Gold: 342(silver stags) Food: Stable Materials: Low Weapons: None

He sighed. "I got Fifty-six dragons. unused. The only showing are what silver stags i have earned by far."

Then, softer: "I don't get it. Why bring me here? Why give me a cheat that only works with a currency that is the second highest? Why swampberries? Why silver stags? Why rotten mossy stone slabs? why lizard meat or this hard bread?"

"Forget it im a beggar with a degraded cheat. better i have something or surviving with nothing.

He trailed off.

There was no answer.

The wind howled.

He looked north.

Somewhere beyond that wind-blasted line of hills stood Winterfell. Beyond that, the broken shell of Moat Cailin.

He clutched the coin pouch tightly.

"This better be worth it."

He mutters as they move forward in the road.