I transmigrated into the body of Mormont's disgraced son from *Game of Thrones*, only four years old, facing the ultimate judgment of the King in the North. Fortunately, my spatial ability can replicate everything. When the Duke of Stark stepped onto Bear Island, he didn't see the expected ruin and disgrace, but rather granaries full of food, brand-new swords, and a young master with calm eyes. "Your Excellency," he said, "the loyalty of Bear Island has always been proven by strength, not by kneeling."