Nerd In the North: Season 3, Ep 10 Outline (Patreon)

Episode 10: “The People’s War”frostfall was quieter than greg remembered, the usual hum of activity muted under the weight of what had happened. Then again, it had been literal months.the streets were lined with villagers whispering to one another, their eyes darting to the figures walking through the main path.

greg felt their stares, though he tried to ignore them. shiro chirped softly in his arms, the fluffy white chick nestling against his blood-streaked chest as if oblivious to the tension around them. ash padded at his side, his glowing red eyes scanning the crowd, his presence alone enough to make most of the villagers step back.

then there was guts.

the man towered over everyone, his black armor catching the faint light and his massive sword strapped to his back like an iron monument. whispers followed him wherever he went, the villagers’ eyes widening as they took in the sheer size of him and the weapon that looked like it could cleave a house in two.

greg stopped in the center of the village, his boots crunching in the snow. gwenna stood near the gathering hall, her face a mix of relief and confusion as she looked between him and the new arrivals.

“you’re alive,” she said, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“alive and kicking,” greg replied, shifting shiro in his arms.

her gaze moved to guts, her eyes widening further. “and… who is that?”

greg smirked faintly, but before he could answer, the crowd began to press closer.

greg turned to face them, his voice carrying over the murmurs. “listen up!”

the villagers fell silent, their eyes fixed on him.

“what happened here—what the boltons did—isn’t gonna happen again,” greg said, his tone firm. “i’m taking the fight to roose bolton himself. his crimes against you, against everyone he’s hurt, they don’t get to go unanswered.”

a ripple of shock and murmurs ran through the crowd, but one voice cut through the noise.

“how exactly do you plan on doing that, m’lord?”

greg blinked, turning to see a red-headed woman with a plump, weathered face staring at him. it took him a moment to recognize her.

“gerda,” he said, tilting his head. “gwenna’s mom, right?”

gerda crossed her arms. “you’ve got a fire in you, boy, but words don’t win wars. what’s your plan?”

greg grinned faintly, tilting his head toward the two figures beside him.

“with these two,” he said.

ash tilted his head up and roared, a column of flame erupting into the sky. the villagers gasped, some stepping back in fear, others staring in awe.

guts smirked, his manic grin briefly flashing as he hefted the dragonslayer from his back with ease, holding it aloft before planting it in the earth in front of him with a heavy thud that seemed to shake the ground.

gerda nodded once, her expression unreadable. “well, then,” she said simply.

greg turned back to gwenna, who was still staring at guts with a mix of shock and something like curiosity. he reached into his soul, drawing on instinct as a silver ring shaped like a dragon appears in his hand.

“here,” he said, holding it out to her.

gwenna frowned, taking it cautiously. “what is it?”

“something of mine,” greg said. “it’ll… help you. make you stronger, smarter. And… it’ll give you magic.”

gwenna blinked in shock, but didn’t hesitate. as she slid the ring onto her finger, the air around her shifted.

a soft wind began to swirl around her, carrying faint whispers that seemed to echo from nowhere. her eyes widened as they began to glow with an intense blue light, and she gasped as the energy flowed through her.

her body straightened, her posture growing more confident as her frame subtly strengthened, the muscles beneath her tunic shifting as if honed by unseen power. her hand instinctively stretched out, and a faint ripple of mana danced along her fingertips, crackling faintly before fading.

“what… what is this?” she whispered, staring at her hands.

greg shrugged, trying to play it off, though his brow furrowed at the sheer intensity of the reaction. “i told you, it’s magic. figured you could use it.”

the crowd murmured, a few villagers pointing at the glow still faintly surrounding gwenna.

gerda’s eyes narrowed slightly as she stepped closer, her gaze flicking between the ring and greg.

“you sure you know what you just did, boy?” she asked, her tone careful.

greg blinked, his confusion evident. “what do you mean?”

gerda smirked faintly, shaking her head. “you’ll figure it out.”

gwenna, still staring at her glowing hands, didn’t seem to notice the exchange.

“milord,” she said, her voice sharp with newfound clarity. “this is… incredible.”

greg shrugged again, his lips twitching into a grin. “yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head.”

the villagers watched in silence as gwenna flexed her fingers, small sparks of mana flickering between them. greg glanced at ash, who sat beside him with an almost smug look in his glowing eyes, and then at guts, who simply nodded once.

“you sure about this?” guts asked, his voice low.

greg nodded, his gaze fixed on the crowd. “more sure than i’ve ever been. The Boltons will keep trying to do this, keep trying to kill me and anyone who’s ever helped me. Best to end it first.”Guts: and taking the people into this is a good idea?Greg: I don’t want them to think I’m just doing it of my own good. You got to help people find power in themselves, too, you know. Self-help, stuff, lead a horse to water and whatnot.

“then lead,” guts said, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.

greg took a deep breath, stepping forward to face the villagers again.

“we’re going to end the boltons,” he said, his voice steady. “together.”

the snow fell lightly as greg stood in the center of yet another village square, the rough-hewn buildings surrounding him stark against the winter sky. the villagers had gathered in a loose circle, their faces worn with the same mix of fear, hope, and doubt he’d seen so many times before.

shiro perched on his shoulder, chirping softly, while ash sat at his side, his red eyes glowing faintly. guts stood a few paces behind, leaning against his massive sword like it was a walking stick, his presence alone enough to keep the crowd quiet.

greg took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill his lungs. he could feel the weight of their stares, the unspoken desperation in their eyes. they wanted him to be more than just words. they needed him to be something.greg raised his voice, steady but full of fire. “i know what you’ve heard,” he began, his gaze sweeping across the crowd. “the songs, the stories. they call me the white blade. the boy who killed bolton men with his bare hands. who burned their camps and sent them running.”

he paused, letting the words settle. “but this isn’t about me. it’s about all of us. every village they’ve taken from, every family they’ve torn apart. it’s about the blood they’ve spilled and the lives they’ve ruined. and it’s about stopping them before they can do it again.”

the crowd murmured, quiet but growing.

greg’s jaw tightened, and his voice hardened. “you know what lord bolton allowed. you know what ramsay did. the way he hunted your daughters, your wives, your sisters. raped them, killed them like it was his gods-given right. and his father stood by and let him do it.”

his gaze swept the villagers, catching a few nods in the crowd. “i put an end to that. ramsay bolton is dead—i made sure of it. and i’m going to make sure his father pays for his crimes, too.”

the murmurs grew louder, a ripple of agreement spreading through the villagers. greg felt his chest tighten, not with fear but with something sharper—responsibility.

he took a step forward, his voice rising. “this isn’t just my fight. it’s our fight. together, we can stop them. we can make sure no one else suffers like frostfall did. but i can’t do it alone.”

the murmurs grew louder now, villagers exchanging glances. some nodded, their faces grim, others whispered among themselves, but greg could see that the mention of ramsay’s death had struck a chord.

a voice called out from the back of the crowd, rough and loud. “are you a lord, then? is that why you’re givin’ orders?”

the question cut through the air like a blade, and the crowd fell silent, all eyes turning to greg. he’d been asked this before—too many times, it felt like—and the answer was always easy.

“n-,” he started, but the word stuck in his throat.

for the first time, he hesitated. 

his gaze flicked to ash, then to shiro, who tilted his head at him. he thought of frostfall, of the people who now looked to him for answers. he thought of the boltons, of the blood and fire he’d unleashed in their name.

he wasn’t a lord. But… who the fuck cared?Authority came from power and…considering he hadn’t seen any adventurers, heroes or mages in this nowhere backwoods part of Westeros…

He might as well be, right?.

greg met the crowd’s expectant stares and exhaled slowly. “Yeah, I am,” he said finally, his voice quieter but no less steady.

the villagers exchanged looks, some confused, others nodding as if they understood.

greg turned away, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. he didn’t have all the answers—not for them, not for himself. but he knew one thing for certain: he wasn’t stopping. not until the boltons paid for what they’d done.

behind him, guts smirked faintly, his voice low as he muttered, “good answer.”