Highpoint

Winterfell would be great, but wisdom is better than blind ambition and glory-hunting. You decide to turn northward, to Highpoint. Your host moves quickly, and it's not long before you spot the castle, seated upon a barren hill. While Ironrath had good natural defenses that benefited the free folk's fighting style, Highpoint mostly relies on its walls. Not ideal, but you're confident that you'll find a way. After a few hours of scouting and debating, you decide to enter the castle alone, disguised as a bard. Spoiled by a long summer and the recent years of peace, they let you in and listen to your songs. You are careful not to get too drunk at the feast that evening. You take a few walks outside to scout out the castle, but are careful to always come back quickly in order not to arouse suspicion. After the Lord goes to bed and the feast starts to die down, you suddenly find yourself next to his only daughter, Gwyn Whitehill, stern-looking, but quite pretty woman. She puts a hand on your arm. "I've always thought bards drink more ale."
Slightly concerned, you look at her. "Some of our trade still value music over drink."
She smiles dangerously. "And some don't value either, I wager. But all men value female companionship, isn't that so?"
With those mysterious words, she stands up, gives you a wink and slowly leaves the hall.