reincarnated in GOT with a down graded Cheat engine.

The last piece of bread was given, the final cup of ale poured. Levi stood for a long moment among the quiet people of Bogwater, the weight of their silent gratitude pressing heavier than their anger ever could.

But it wasn't done yet. Not nearly.

He returned home with tired steps, pushing open the wooden door of the house he'd claimed as his own. The air inside still smelled of cheese and old timber, but now it also smelled of coin—if coin had a scent, it was sweat and risk.

He walked to the window, wiping fog from the glass with the back of his sleeve.

Outside, a familiar figure lingered near the edge of the path, kicking at the dirt.

"Jory!" Levi called out.

The boy turned, startled. "Yeah?"

"I need a favor." Levi leaned halfway out the window. "The builders. The guild men. Go find them. Tell them to come to my house. I've got their payment."

Jory blinked, then nodded and took off at once without a word. Loyal and quick—that boy was worth more than any silver.

Levi turned back inside, the moment already closing in.

He sat at the table, pushed aside some leftover cheese, and opened the interface.

[CHEAT ENGINE: ACTIVE]Silver Stags: 2,108 → 1,108

A flash of white—then a second later, a real sack of coin appeared on the floor beside him. Levi knelt down, testing the weight. It felt right. He tied it off tightly and waited.

Minutes passed. Then came the knock.

Levi opened the door to find four men gathered—dusty, wary, eyes sunken from a night without sleep. The guild members.

Their leader, a thick-armed carpenter named Bram, stepped forward. "Heard you got our coin."

Levi didn't speak—he simply hefted the heavy sack and placed it in Bram's hands.

The man's brow lifted slightly. "Didn't expect that."

"I gave my word," Levi said. "You did your job. Now do the rest."

Another man, the stonemason Gared, grunted. "Aye. We'll work. Just make sure there's no more bandits."

Levi narrowed his eyes. "Wait."

The men hesitated, glancing at one another. Bram's voice came low, cautious. "What is it?"

"I want this village rebuilt fast," Levi said. "Not in years. How soon can you finish it?"

Bram scratched his beard. "By winter's start, maybe. Four months if we're lucky."

"No," Levi said. "Sooner."

They stared at him. Then Gared snorted.

"Pray to the Old Gods or the New," he said. "You won't get this done with what little we've got. There's not enough hands. Not enough time."

Levi stepped forward.

"What if I get more hands? More builders. More workers. The wood and stone slabs—I can supply those. And I'll give another thousand silver stags to speed things up."

The silence that followed was thick.

One of the younger men—Tanner, a joiner—gave a low whistle. "You serious? Do you even have anything left?"

Levi didn't flinch. "My caravan's moving through the North. Gathering food. Supplies. They can send what I need."

Bram frowned. "Caravan? You didn't say anything about—"

"I'll give the silver tomorrow."

That stopped them. Truly stopped them.

"Tomorrow?" Gared echoed.

Levi nodded.

Tanner rubbed the back of his neck. "If that's true... we could send word to White Harbor. Even Barrowton. Get hands from Flint's Finger, the Neck..."

Bram finally spoke, slower this time. "We can get a hundred men. That's no small coin, but with it..."

He looked at Levi hard.

"We could finish the rebuild in two months. Maybe less, if the gods favor the weather."

Levi exhaled. "Good. That's more than enough."