Once the euphoria and the thrill of initial exploration settled, a practical and urgent issue surfaced, pricking at Luke’s excited nerves like a fine thorn.
He didn’t speak the language!
How was he going to fix that?
Granted, he could tell it was a variant of English.
Though Luke came from a rural background, he had been a star student.
A score of 148 out of 150 on his College Entrance Examination English paper gave him a foundational, if vague, familiarity with vocabulary and grammar.
However, in the years since high school graduation, his English proficiency had plummeted.
He had barely scraped through the CET-4 exam and had relied entirely on leftover knowledge for every English test in college.
Listening comprehension?
Everyday conversation was tough enough, let alone this “Westerosi Common Tongue,” spoken with heavy regional accents and laced with archaic vocabulary and unfamiliar place names.
Speaking?
Beyond “Hello,” “How are you,” “Thank you,” and “Fuck”…
He could barely stammer through a basic self-introduction right now.
In a lawless, peril-filled alternate world, being unable to understand or express oneself was a fatal flaw.
Trading?
Gathering intel?
Establishing connections?
He would be stopped dead at step one.
Luke sat on a small stool in his rented room, a piece of paper spread out before him, listed with every solution he could think of:
Self-study was too slow and lacked an immersive environment!
Finding a linguist was entirely unrealistic!
Expecting a sudden, magical awakening of language fluency was out of the question…
Finally, his eyes landed on “technological assistance.” Blue Star technology ought to have a solution for a problem like this.
He picked up his phone and opened a deal-slashing shopping app.
He typed in keywords: “Translator device offline multi-language real-time interpretation.”
The page loaded a sea of products, ranging from cheap toys worth a few dozen Yuan to high-end business models costing thousands.
He needed one that worked offline—there was no Wi-Fi in the alternate world—had long battery life, and was discreet.
After comparing specs and reading reviews repeatedly, Luke felt his heart bleed.
He set his sight on a model claiming to support offline translation for over a hundred languages, featuring photo-to-text translation, long battery life, and Bluetooth earbud connectivity for covert listening.
Price tag: 498 Long Yuan!
Grit his teeth, he opened the payment screen.
“Huabei interest-free installment!”
“This is an investment!
A necessary initial expense!”
He cheered himself on, his finger trembling as he selected the installment option.
The 498 credit was instantly deducted, and he could almost hear his wallet weeping.
“Damn it, I’m going to earn this back ten—no, a hundred times over!”
Luke stared at the paid order and swore viciously.
Delivery speed didn’t disappoint this time.
The next morning, a plain cardboard box was delivered to his door.
Luke practically snatched it open.
The device was smaller than expected, featuring a matte black shell, a crisp screen, and tactile buttons.
He impatiently turned it on, connected to his home Wi-Fi, and downloaded the necessary offline language packs according to the manual—primarily English and several European languages.
He also tested the voice recording translation and photo translation features, even trying it against a screenshot of *Game of Thrones* saved on his phone.
The screen accurately recognized and translated “Iron Throne” and “Red Keep.”
“It works!”
Luke carefully stowed it away, then pulled out a pair of semi-in-ear Bluetooth earbuds.
In the afternoon, he changed into an outfit that was as inconspicuous as possible: a plain black long-sleeve outer shirt, black trousers, and dark sneakers.
Looking in the mirror, while the style was vastly different from medieval attire, King’s Landing was a major port city that gathered merchants from across the Seven Kingdoms and Essos.
Eccentric clothing was far from unheard of.
He could only aim for a distinct “style,” because as for specific “fashions”?
Nobody here could tell what was what anyway.
Taking a deep breath, he verified that the translator was fully charged, the Bluetooth connection was stable, and the earbud was fitted into his ear, pulling his collar up slightly to conceal the wire.
With a turn of his mind, the feeling of weightlessness struck.
Flea Bottom, that relatively secluded alley tail.
The afternoon sun barely filtered through the narrow alleyway.
The foul stench in the air seemed a bit more “tolerable” now that he was getting used to it.
Luke leaned against the wall, pretending to look around aimlessly, while actually pressing the record button on the translator and directing the microphone toward the flow of people.
In his Bluetooth earbud, after a brief processing latency, a mechanical yet clear translation came through:
“…Flour prices went up again…
Damned merchants…”
“…I heard Ironborn were spotted over by Crab Isle…”
“…Prince Joffrey’s nameday is next month.
There’ll be a feast at the Red Keep, right?…”
“…Lace imported from Myr…
horrifyingly expensive…”
Fragments of information fluttered in like snowflakes.
He moved carefully, capturing more of the ambient chatter.
When he reached a slightly wider intersection with a few street vendors, clearer sentences with distinct titles echoed through his earbud:
“…Winter in Westeros…
Who knows when it’ll arrive…”
“…The slave markets in Essos…
Any new stock lately?…”
“…The Seven Kingdoms are peaceful enough for now, thanks to King Robert…”
“…Ever since House Baratheon married into House Lannister…
the royal treasury…”
“…The Gold Cloaks are coming!
Hide your things!”
Luke’s heart skipped a beat.
Looking in the direction of the stirring crowd, he saw a squad of soldiers clad in mail armor beneath yellow cloaks, which were embroidered with the crest of the City Watch.
They were patrolling down the street, their sharp eyes scanning the vendors and pedestrians.
It really was the “Gold Cloaks”—the City Watch of King’s Landing.
He suppressed his inner excitement.
Waiting until the Gold Cloaks walked far into the distance, he took a deep breath and decided to take the next step: attempting direct interaction.
He walked over to a stall run by an old woman selling rough ceramic pots, turned off the translator’s real-time interpretation mode, and spoke in his hesitant, oddly accented English:
“Hello…
Good day.”
The old woman raised her cloudy eyes to glance at him, mumbling something indistinct that was likely a greeting in return.
Luke pointed to the smallest pot.
“How much?”
The old woman held up two dirty fingers and uttered a word.
Luke didn’t catch the pronunciation, but judging by the gesture, it was likely two copper pennies or something similar.
He shook his head to indicate he didn’t want it, then walked away.
Next, he tried striking up a conversation with a thin man leaning against a wall and soaking in the sun, who looked relatively idle.
“My name is Luke.
What…
your name?”
The man glanced at him in surprise, clearly finding his accent and phrasing peculiar, but he answered slowly nonetheless: “Mord.”
“King…
now?” Luke gestured.
“Who is king?”
Mord stared at him as if looking at an idiot.
“King Robert.
Robert Baratheon.”
“Hand…
of the King?”
“Jon Arryn.
Old man in the Eyrie.”
Simple questions and answers, yet the information was immensely crucial.
Luke’s heart pounded against his ribs.
King Robert I was on the throne, and Jon Arryn was serving as Hand of the King.
What did this mean?
It meant that grand, blood-soaked narrative had not yet officially opened its curtain!
The War of the Five Kings, the Red Wedding, the Battle of the Bastards, the White Walkers invading south…
All those fateful gears meant to churn the continent had not yet begun their mad rotation.
For a transmigrator possessing knowledge of the future plot, this was dangerous—but above all, an incomparable opportunity!
The window of opportunity was wide open!
Suppressing his surging emotions, he spent a long time wandering through Flea Bottom and the neighboring Oldtown district, capturing more background noise and scattered dialogue with his translator to cross-verify his conclusions.
Toward evening, carrying a mind full of intel and uncontrollable excitement, he returned to his rented room on Blue Star.
Sitting on his familiar hard bed, Luke slowly calmed down.
He picked up the translator device and the Bluetooth earbuds he had used, falling into deep thought.
These electronic devices had been to Westeros.
Although they currently functioned normally, who could guarantee they didn’t contain backdoors or hidden protocols for tracking, recording, or reverse data transmission?
If these items connected to the network on Blue Star, could they accidentally upload anomalous data?
He couldn’t take that risk.
Especially when he intended to use the information gap and future knowledge to make a fortune, every potential vulnerability had to be plugged.
With a thought, the translator and the Bluetooth earbuds vanished from his hand, safely deposited deep within his 27-cubic-meter spatial storage.
He resolved that any electronic device taken to Westeros would never be brought back to Blue Star to connect to any network, unless strictly necessary and physically isolated—such as removing batteries and blocking all signals.
They would become “dedicated tools” used exclusively in the alternate world, or sleep forever in the corner of his spatial storage.
Having made this decision, Luke felt a wave of relief wash over him.
The security hazard was temporarily quarantined.
He spread out his planning sheet once more, putting a checkmark beside “Language Issue.”
His next target shone clearly and intensely before his eyes: seed capital, and his first safe, low-risk transaction.
What should he bring over from Blue Star, and what could he bring back from Westeros to secure this vital “first pot of gold”?
Outside the window, the sky gradually darkened as city lights lit up one after another.
Yet Luke’s eyes shone brighter than any light in the city.