A Little Giant On His Way To A Den Of Wolves

"Little Lord, get up and out! We're having roasted wild pig and if you don't get your arse moving, we'll have finished it all!" one of my guards shouted from outside the shabby carriage I was in and I cracked my eyes open.

The cold air outside easily broke through into the carriage but other than a small shiver, it didn't really bother me. I guess growing up in Last Hearth has advantages when it comes to resisting the cold.

Pulling myself up, I pulled on some furs before standing up and opening the carriage door to the party escorting me south.

I was greeted by a couple jeers from the younger, more boisterous guards, while the older and more mellowed out guards gave me a nod of respect. Returning the respectful gestures and flipping my middle finger up at the unruly portion of the guards, I got most of the guards laughing at my behavior and my ability to not seem like a highborn son of one of the bigger Northern Houses.

Though...honestly I don't think anyone would expect any less from an Umber. Especially one of the Greatjon's sons.

Sitting down around the campfire roasting the hog, I took a wooden cup and filled it with water before knocking back the liquid, trying my best not to catch the after taste given to the water by the cup that'd no doubt only been used for ale and wine up until this point. It led to a particularly nasty aftertaste.

Getting another cup of water, I knocked that back as well before one of the guards, one of my father's best cavalry men, slapped my back with his massive hand.

"What's up, little giant? Don't tell me you're planning on just drinking water when I've brought a barrel of my renowned mead?" he spoke in mock disbelief, his deep voice rumbling like stones falling in a rockslide.

Hearing him, I scoffed, "Renowned? More like infamous, old man. You wanna tell me how many people it's killed? That piss is brewed for Giants beyond the wall. Not for us humans," I joked back at him, some of the guards laughing along with me while also nodding as they'd experienced the effects of that drink.

"We're Umbers, Alaric! We've got Giants blood flowing through our veins," he gave a hearty shout, raising his cup of mead and getting a cheer from the other guards before he smiled slyly before slapping my shoulder, "Even you, you short arse, have the blood of Giants flowing through you. Even if you don't have an Umber's height, you have more strength than I've ever seen. There's a reason we call you 'little giant', ain't there?" he teased and I shook my head in frustration.

"...Fine, I'll have one bloody cup if it'll shut you up, Harmond," I put my cup toward him and sighed as he filled it to the brim with the horrid concoction he'd 'perfected' throughout his drunkard life.

Laughing, Harmond nodded with pride as I took a gulp of the drink he'd poured, "It always starts with just one cup, little giant!" he cackled to himself and I rolled my eyes before wincing at the horrible taste of the mead. There was a base fruity tone to the drink...but that was quickly overrun by burning and bitterness. If I had to compare it to anything...it was like vodka mixed with mead. A horrid combination.

...Yet it got the job done. Umbers are big people, which means it takes a lot to get them drunk. This concoction is the easiest and most cost-efficient way of getting them drunk.

I'm an Umber. Alaric Umber. Third born son of Jon ''Greatjon'' Umber. Ever since I can remember, I've been surrounded by hardy people who know more about fighting than they do about the continent we're living on.

Luckily, however, I didn't need much informing on where I was. Why?

Because I'd read about all this. House Umber, House Stark who are the overlords of where we live, the North, the Crownlands, the Stormlands, the Westerlands--I knew about all of the lands and the houses that lived in them because they were all lands that were a part of a book and TV series I was a massive fan of. Game of Thrones.

And I was reborn from modern day Earth, into this medieval world where Knights, Magic, Princes and Princess, Dragons and the Undead were all very real things.

I was born to House Umber, like mentioned before, and I stood out from the get-go. How so? Because I was smaller than an Umber should've been. Most full-grown members of House Umber average around 6'6" and are notoriously big babies when first born. But I was more average-sized, by Umber standards at least.

I was still a big baby, don't get me wrong. Nor am I a Dwarf like Tyrion Lannister.

I'm just not Umber-sized. Especially so when you consider who my father is - the Greatjon. A man who's nearly seven feet tall and twice as wide as a normal man. To say my birth didn't cause some friction between my father and his wife, my mother, would be a lie. For a few years, he thought she'd cheated on him with some passing lord who'd caught her eye or something. But he couldn't deny that I was his son forever.

Why? Because I was similar to him in appearance. Dark brown hair and grey eyes just like him. If we're going off that fact, I look more like him than my eldest brother Smalljon who has reddish hair and dark brown eyes like our mother.

But another major factor for his acceptance of me is quite simple: his ego.

How does that come into play? Well, I might have been born smaller than other Umbers...but I was unnaturally strong. Ever since I was a kid I've been strong. Strong enough that I easily trash kids my age and even kids older than me in fights. I can lift things kids my age SHOULDN'T be able to lift. So, with my unnatural strength on display, my father quickly accepted me as his son because...who else could give birth to such a strong son? Other than him? There was no one. At least in his head.

Anyway, a reason for my unnatural strength is both that it's naturally already high...but I also workout a lot. Nothing too serious - I don't want to impact my body's development or anything - but still enough to make a difference.

Mainly, I've been practicing swordplay with a claymore that's bigger than my body and thicker than my arm.

Why would I do this? Because I know who I am. Or rather, I know who my body has been based off of.

Not only was I a fan of 'Game of Thrones' but I also like other dark series. And what's darker than the 'Berserk' series? In my opinion, there are series that are on par with it, but nothing surpasses it in terms of how dark it can get. So, as such a big fan, I knew the main protagonists looks like the back of my hand...and despite having grey eyes instead of brown eyes, I look exactly like Guts if he was a real person. All the similarities are there. Even the hair style. I have the body of Guts...which means I have all his potential and his specific genetics.

Because even when driven by anger and hatred like he was, that wouldn't be enough to make him what he was. If that were the case, the amount of people like Guts would've been insanely high in a world like 'Berserk's. If anger was all it took to push yourself to what Guts became after the Eclipse...there'd be dozens of people exactly like Guts.

No. Instead, Guts' anger and hatred was the determination that helped him fulfill his potential. His genetics and potential, which were there from the start, were uncovered by his determination that was fueled by hatred for the Apostles, the God Hand and Griffith.

And I now have these genetics. So, I've been training and the results are showing even despite my young age of 11-years-old. Or eleven namedays old, in Westerosi terms.

But that wouldn't be enough to make me superhumanly strong. Guts was strong, sure. But he only got to that level of strength after being alive and having participated in war for over two-ish decades. So, after training for two decades, basically. But I've only been alive for little over a single decade and I haven't seen a day of war.

So, what allows me to have such strength? Well, it's the part of my strength that is 'natural'. I was just born with this level of strength. Honestly, I'm pretty sure I know where this strength comes from--

"Little Giant?" one of the newer guards spoke up before looking to Harmond, "Why'd they call him that, Harmond?"

"Why?" Harmond bellowed with laughter alongside some of the other guards who'd known me for a while, "Because he's like a little giant, of course. Don't believe me? Try and beat him in an arm wrestle or a fight? I'd bet a couple of stags* on Alaric over any of your sorry arses," he let out a laugh before downing his cup of mead.

(*A/N - What he's talking about here is money. A stag is a silver coin that is worth a decent amount. Full name being Silver Stag but usually shortened to just stag to save time. It's less than a Gold Dragon or a Silver Moon but it's worth much more than any of the Copper Coins.)

"Oh yeah?" the young guard stood up before looking around, "You gonna be able to back up that bet?" he asked and Harmond laughed before looking inquisitively at me.

Seeing what he wanted I let out a groan before standing up and off the ground, "Let's move away from the fire. I don't want to ruin our food," I pointed off to the side and the young guard happily followed my instructions. I followed him over, the guards standing up and turning to our direction while their somewhat drunk hollering increased in volume as they cheered for either me or the guard.

A few paces away from them, we stood opposite each other, and the guard lowered himself into a stance you'd usually see in wrestling*. I, on the other hand, just stood in a boxing stance with my fists raised.

(*A/N - I'm not talking WWE wrestling. I'm talking Greco-Roman wrestling.)

"Don't take it too personally when you lose, little lord!" the guard laughed and I decided it best not to answer. Not like anything too bad would happen to him even if he beat me. Why? Because I'm the third son. Practically expendable. Not that my parents and siblings don't care for me, but this isn't Earth. A little beating was considered normal. Especially to those of House Umber. If anything, fighting was encouraged - even between a young noble and a guard. As long as it didn't go too far, neither party would be reprimanded.

I guess that's just how the more militant Houses of the North work, though. Down South or in the Westerlands, a guard would most likely be executed if he even touched a young lord in an aggressive manner.

Without any more waiting, the guard charged at me. From my perspective...everything slowed.

Instincts popped up left and right in my brain. Instincts that told me exactly what to do and how to do it.

My opponent was taller than me, had more mass and had longer reach. I couldn't enter a slugfest with him because even with my heightened strength, he'd flatten me with his longer reach and higher body weight. What I had to do was use his advantages against him, and a voice in my head told me how to do such a thing.

His body was poised like he was going to go for my legs and try and take me to the ground where his weight would help him beat me. So, I waited.

As I waited, standing still, he dove for my lower body. His goal was as mentioned - to wrap his arms around my legs and take me to the ground. But, as his outstretched arms were about to wrap around my legs, I stepped back, following the instincts.

Inside my head, there was something like...a memory. Yeah, a memory. Inside said memory, there was a man fighting another man. The man who's moves I was following was also like me currently - he was outsized by his opponent. His opponent was also trying to take him to the ground by taking out his legs.

But the man I was watching calmly and coolly reacted by taking a step back out of the man's dive and his outstretched arms. He stepped back once more, and the man who'd just been about to grab his legs could barely even reach his legs.

He'd missed his dive and was falling to the ground on his own.

Yet the man I was watching didn't leave it at that. Instead, he stepped forward and thrust his knee into the falling man's face. The falling man's forward momentum, plus the man's knee and the power behind it...it knocked him out.

And that's exactly what I did.

I took two steps backward, dodging the young guards attempt to take out my legs, and as the guard was falling, I lunged forward and drove my knee into his falling face. The product of his momentum and my innate strength instantly meant his nose was broken and spurting blood. He dropped to the floor...and he didn't get back up. He was knocked out.

I won...but really, I only won because he underestimated me. If he turned it into a brawl instead of a wrestling match, he would've had more of a chance. Though, even then, I'm still pretty confident I could find a way to beat him.

That memory...is one of my other powers. It's not just that man that I can see in my head. I can see innumerable people fighting all sorts of opponents. I have hundreds of people's fighting experiences in my head and I can access them whenever I want. It's how I train my swordplay - by learning from those memories.

And those memories, plus my innate strength, tells me that I'm not just like Guts from 'Berserk'. Being connected to numerous people before me, being innately stronger than normal people, having keen and heightened battle instincts...it points to one thing.

The Ackerman Clan from 'Attack on Titan'. I didn't have an awakening moment but I'm too similar to an Ackerman in terms of my abilities--those memories especially. Those are the paths that connect the Ackerman to all those before them. Or rather, it's what connects me to all those before me.

Whether that's the actual Ackerman Clan members or all the Umbers before me, I have no idea. I just know everyone of those memories comes from a hardened warrior. The best warrior of their generation.

I don't have any proof that that's the case...but I just know it's the case. Just call it a hunch.

So, an Ackerman mixed with Guts and his potential...it's a pretty potent combo. Which is why I have more physical strength than even these guards. The only thing that limits me is my young age and the small body that comes with being a kid.

"Anyone else wanna fight me?" I asked, looking to the other young guards while the older guards and Harmond cackled before bursting out in laughter. Some of the young guards passed the older guards some silver coins...bastards used me for bets.

Whatever.

Walking back over to my place by the fire, I sat down and reached for my cup, downing the last of the hogwash Harmond had poured me earlier.

I might as well have some fun drinking with these guys tonight.

After all, tomorrow we should arrive at Winterfell. Don't think Ned Stark will let me drink and party while I'm eleven like the Umbers do. Oh well, I'll only be there until--Ah shit, I'm gonna be with the Starks when canon starts. Fucking hell.

Despite my internal thoughts, a wide and savage smile found it's way onto my face as I thought about the fighting that would soon come my way.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't somewhat look forward to it.