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Before dawn, Castle Black's council chamber was packed.
The hearth roared, but couldn't dispel the oppressive atmosphere. Every available officer of the Night's Watch gathered hereâexcept First Ranger Benjen Stark.
Bowen Marsh, chief steward. Ser Alliser Thorne, master-at-arms. Other logistics and defense officers. All present. Faces grim, eyes sunken. None slept last night.
Yesterday's events shattered their illusion of safety.
Lynn sat at the long table's end. Unthinkable before. A "deserter" had no right to attend such meetings. But now, no one objected. Alliser Thorne didn't even meet Lynn's eyesâjust stared darkly at the table.
Jeor Mormont occupied the head seat. Clean clothes, but purple bruises still ringed his throatâsilent testimony to last night's danger. No fatigue showed on his face. His sharp eyes burned with unprecedented fire.
"You all know what happened last night." Mormont's voice was steady. "Othor and Jafer Flowers became monsters. Immune to blades, to pain. They became... wights."
Wights. The word made everyone tense involuntarily. Even having witnessed it, hearing the Lord Commander speak the word sent chills through them. Ancestral fear carved into the First Men's bones. Millennia of terror.
"This isn't a story or legend." Mormont's gaze swept every face. "This is fact. Beyond the Wall, our enemies are no longer blood-drinking wildlings. They're White Walkersâand the wight armies they command."
Deathly silence. Only heavy breathing remained.
"How many men do we have?" Mormont asked suddenly.
Portly Bowen Marsh opened his ledger. "Lord Commander, counting Eastwatch and the Shadow Tower, we have fewer than a thousand men capable of bearing arms."
"A thousand?" Mormont laughed bitterly. "A thousand men to guard a three-hundred-mile Wall. Sounds like a joke."
Marsh considered. "We need more men, weapons, supplies. We must send riders south immediatelyâto the King, the Wardens, all the lordsâfor aid!"
"Aid?" Thorne sneered, his acidic nature returning. "You think those fat southern nobles will believe us? Those lords will think we're frozen-brained madmen telling ghost stories to scam resources. They don't even take wildling threats seriouslyâyou expect them to believe in White Walkers?"
Thorne's words were harsh but true. The Night's Watch's glory has faded. To southern nobles, we're just criminals and bastards exiled to the world's end.
"Then what do we do?" Marsh asked anxiously. "How can a thousand men possibly stop those monsters?"
Silence again. Despair spread among them.
Thenâ
"We can." A calm voice broke the suffocating quiet.
Lynn.
All eyes locked on him. He's created miracles. Proved wights exist. He has the right to speak.
"We can?" Thorne sounded incredulous. "Lynn, have you killed so many wildlings you've lost your mind? Do you know what you're saying?"
"I do." Lynn stood, meeting every gaze calmly. "I know we're few. I know we lack weapons and supplies. But we have advantages too."
"What advantages?" Thorne challenged.
"We understand our enemy." Lynn's gaze swept the room. "At least from now on, we understand them better than anyone south of the Wall. We know they can't be killed easily. We know their monstrous strength. And most importantly..." He paused. "We know how to kill them."
He pointed to the dancing hearth flames. "Fire."
He tapped the Valyrian steel dagger at his waist. "And dragonglass. And Valyrian steel."
Maester Aemon's aged voice rose: "Ancient scrolls confirm it. Dragonglass and Valyrian steel forged in dragonflame can inflict lethal wounds on them."
Thoughtful expressions crossed every face.
"So what we need to do isn't send riders south begging for aid that'll never come." Lynn moved to the map, finger tracing the vast lands north of the Wall. "We take the initiative. Strike first."
"Strike first?" Mormont's brow furrowed. "Lynn, you mean..."
"We can't be passive anymore." Lynn's voice rang with conviction. "We send elite ranger squads deep beyond the Wallâtrack wildlings, find White Walker clues, seek anything useful. Like gifts the Old Gods left beyond the Wall. Like wildling tribes willing to ally against the White Walkers."
Alliance with wildlings. Every face changed. But given Lynn's status as the Old Gods' prophet, no one dared object at this critical moment. Even Thorne stayed silent.
Too bold. One misstep and it's treason.
Mormont frowned, fearing Lynn would say something more radical. "Lynn, thousands of years of enmity separate us. Let this matter rest. Don't mention it again."
Lynn knew Mormont meant to protect him. He nodded, not discouraged. When the Night King marches south, there'll be time to unite. I'm just planting seeds. Don't expect to convince them in one meeting.
Lynn's gaze settled on the area marked "Haunted Forest." He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. Others waited silently.
Combining the Frostheart Grass I found with the wildling chief's human-skin map... perhaps that marked location is where the Old Gods' miraculous plants grow.
But Maester Aemon said Frostheart only works powerfully on first use. Otherwise I'd keep it all. Sharing this information boosts my prestige among the Watch. But I can't give benefits for free. I need something first.
"My Lord, I know a location blessed by the Old Gods. I can lead men to find it!"
Everyone's breathing quickenedâeven Mormont's. This isn't secret knowledge. They know. Some plants enhance reflexes, others grant great strength. Part of why wildlings are so robust. If we find such a source, everyone's strength could surge. The undead threat would diminish.
"Is this true?" Mormont stood excitedly.
Lynn nodded. "I can't guarantee it. But I'm fifty percent certain."
Fifty percent works!
Just as Mormont grew excited, Lynn said, "Butâ"
That word. Mormont knew what it meant. Everything before "but" is prelude. What follows is the real point.
Lynn gestured to his guards. "But if I find those herbs, my men use them first. That's the condition. Only after they've all taken them can you distribute the rest freely."
Enough blessing-plants for a hundred men isn't trivial. After my people consume them, the Watch might not get much. But people have self-interest. I'm no exception.
After Lynn spoke, Torren felt moved to tears. Such a good lord! Where else would I find one?
Mormont pondered, then nodded agreement. Other brothers showed no dissatisfaction. This was Lynn's discovery. He has the manpower to keep it all. Yet he shared the secret. Proof Lynn truly cares for humanity's survivalâa man of great righteousness. We admire him. Besides, consuming the same plant repeatedly is useless. Everyone might benefit. Why object? Only a fool would. That'd make you a pariah at Castle Black.
Seeing no objections, Lynn nodded with satisfaction. I plan to control Castle Black eventually. Even if this harvest is large and strengthens these men, the benefits ultimately serve me. Not a loss.
"Here. I found this in a wildling chief's tent." Lynn pulled out the human-skin map from his cloak. He spread it on the table. Everyone crowded around.
When they saw the blood-red symbol at the map's centerâeerie as an eyeâconfusion showed on their faces.
"What is this?" Mormont asked.
Lynn explained: "The exact location. This seems important to that wildling tribe. I believe this position is the source. And I'll be honestâI found one Frostheart Grass stalk. It likely came from this tribe."
~~~~ââ~~~~~~~~ââ~~~~
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