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Ravens circled Castle Black, their harsh cries cutting through the cold air.
Lynn lay on his crude bed, staring at the wooden beams crisscrossing the ceiling. The room reeked of bitter herbs. Bloodied bandages sat piled in the corner.
Last night's assassin was already buried in the mass grave behind the castle. No one asked who he was. No one cared who sent him.
On the Wall, death was routine.
Torren entered, carrying a steaming bowl of broth.
"My Lord, Maester Aemon says you need to rebuild your strength."
Lynn took the wooden bowl. The heat seeped into his palms. He sippedâsalty, gamey. The taste spread across his tongue.
"Did you identify the assassin?"
Torren shook his head. "Just a common brother. Name was Bill. Quiet type. No friends. As for who sent him..."
He trailed off. In Castle Black, these things happened. The dead kept their secrets.
Lynn set the bowl down. He'd expected this. Alliser Thorne was a careful snake. Even if he'd ordered the hit, there'd be no proof.
"Forget it. The dead don't talk. The living lie."
Torren's fists clenched, knuckles white. "My Lord, should I take some men and... remind Ser Thorne of his place?"
"No." Lynn waved him off. "That would only anger Mormont. Not yet."
Lynn's fingers drummed the bed frame rhythmically. His mind was already elsewhere.
Last night's discovery was far more valuable than catching an assassin.
His men's kills counted as his experience.
That changed everything. If his soldiers could farm XP for him, he could send squads out to hunt while he focused on other improvements.
"Torren." Lynn's voice turned serious. "Pick ten of our most reliable men. Take supplies and patrol outside the Wall."
Torren blinked. "My Lord?"
"Wildlings." Lynn's eyes gleamed. "I hear small raiding parties have been spotted near the Wall. Good practice."
Torren's face lit up. The Northmen had been itching for a real fight.
"Yes, my Lord!"
He turned to leave, but Lynn called him back.
"Remember: don't get greedy. Stay smart. Safety first."
Lynn's tone was earnest. Back when he played Mount & Blade, even losing virtual soldiers hurt. Now? These hundred men were his lifeline. Their lives were worth more than experience.
XP could be farmed. Loyal soldiers couldn't be replaced.
Torren's eyes softened. He nodded firmly and left.
Lynn lay back down, closing his eyes. He needed to heal. But there was something else he could do.
He remembered training methods from his past life. Modern, scientific approaches.
Might as well try them.
Three days later, Lynn's wounds had mostly healed.
He stood in the training yard, surrounded by iron pots borrowed from the kitchen. He'd strung them together with ropeâmakeshift weights.
Jon Snow watched from nearby, baffled.
"What are you doing?"
Jon pointed at the bizarre contraption.
"Training."
Lynn tied the pots to his shoulders and began squatting. Slow, controlled movements. His leg muscles strained with each rep.
Jon frowned. "I've never seen anyone train like this. In Winterfell, knights just practice with swords."
Lynn didn't stop. Sweat dripped from his forehead.
"Everyone has their own methods."
Progressive overload, Lynn thought. Tear the muscle, let it rebuild stronger. Westerosi training was primitive by comparison.
An hour later, Lynn dropped the pots. His body was drenched.
He leaned against a post, gasping. His muscles burnedâthe precursor to growth.
[Through scientific strength training, your Strength has increased slightly. Explore other methods to improve additional attributes.]
[Strength: 5 (Progress: 4%)]
Lynn's eyes lit up. It works!
Name: LynnStrength: 5 (4%)Agility: 5 (0%)Constitution: 5 (0%)Remaining Experience: 2
So I need to fill the bar to reach 6 Strength.
Jon was still examining the pots. "Does this actually work?"
He lifted one experimentally.
"Try it." Lynn clapped his shoulder. "But start light. Don't overdo it."
Jon nodded and began mimicking Lynn's movements. Clumsy at first, but improving.
Lynn smiled faintly. Not bad, Snow.
As the sun set, two figures trained in the yard, drenched in sweat.
From a window, Arya watched Lynn intently. Her eyes shone with admiration. She didn't understand his strange methods, but she trusted him.
Everything Lynn does turns out right.
Day seven.
Torren's squad returned. Their faces were excited, their clothes bloodstained. Loot-filled sacks were unloaded from the horses.
Lynn stood in the courtyard, waiting.
"My Lord!" Torren strode forward, barely containing his excitement. "We found a wildling band twenty miles out. Twelve men."
Lynn nodded. "Go on."
"We hit them from the flank. Caught them off guard. Fight lasted less than half an hour. All dead. Only two of ours took light wounds."
Torren's voice swelled with pride.
Lynn's attention was elsewhere.
[12 enemies killed. Experience +15.][Current Experience: 17]
Lynn's mood soared. It works.
He could send multiple squads out simultaneously. With proper coordination, XP would flow in like a river.
"Well done." Lynn clapped Torren's shoulder. "Let the men rest. In three days, we go again."
Torren grinned. "My Lord, the men are thrilled. They say this is real fighting. Better than standing guard in Winterfell."
Lynn smiled. The Northmen's bloodlust was awakened.
Perfect.
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