Lynn ignored the stares.
He grabbed a serving of black bread and meat stew—same as everyone else.
Then, tray in hand, he walked toward the table where Jon Snow sat.
Jon was surrounded by a few recruits—Grenn, Pyp, Sam, and a couple others.
Ever since Lynn had helped them sort out their issues, the tension between them had eased. Now they were chatting, animated.
Jon seemed to be doing well.
At least among the recruits.
When they saw Lynn approaching, they stood instinctively, faces tight with respect.
"Lord Lynn."
Grenn even used the formal address.
"Relax. Sit."
Lynn waved them down and took a seat beside Jon.
The longsword at his waist clinked lightly against the table leg as he sat.
A clear, ringing sound.
Every eye snapped to the blade.
Black scabbard. Silver trim. And at the pommel—a direwolf's head carved from pale weirwood, lifelike and fierce.
The wolf's eyes were two blood-red garnets.
"That... that's..."
The Night's Watchmen stared, eyes wide.
They locked onto the sword. Breathing quickened.
They recognized it.
They'd seen Lord Commander Mormont wear it.
That was House Mormont's ancestral blade—Longclaw.
Why... why was it here?
Why was it on Lynn's hip?
And why had the bear's head pommel been replaced with a wolf?
Every man who knew the sword was stunned.
Bowen Marsh's jaw dropped. The bread in his hand fell into his soup, unnoticed.
And Alliser Thorne—the moment he saw the blade, his face went white as a corpse.
He shot to his feet, pointing at Lynn, words spilling out in a frenzy.
"Longclaw!"
"House Mormont's Valyrian steel sword!"
"How did you get that?!"
"You thief! You shameless thief! You stole the Lord Commander's sword!"
Thorne's roar echoed through the silent hall.
Everyone froze.
Stole the sword?
Lynn stole the Lord Commander's ancestral blade?
Impossible.
Lynn looked up. Calm. A mocking smile tugged at his lips.
He didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
Would a thief wear stolen goods in plain sight?
Thorne realized his mistake the moment the words left his mouth.
Every encounter with Lynn had left him humiliated. Stripped bare.
This man was a thorn in his side. A plague he couldn't shake.
Once, twice—but not three times. Not four.
Lynn began calculating. How to get rid of this troublemaker without being caught.
Hard to do at Castle Black.
Then a thought flickered through his mind.
The assassin. The one who'd attacked him.
That was a thread worth pulling.
As Lynn pondered—
"Thorne!"
A booming, authoritative voice rang out from the doorway.
Jeor Mormont strode in, flanked by stewards.
His gaze swept coldly over Thorne.
"I gave it to him."
"What?"
Thorne stared at Mormont, disbelieving.
"Lord Commander, you... what did you say?"
"I said, Longclaw is mine to give. And I gave it to Lynn."
Mormont walked to Lynn's side and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.
Then he turned to address the entire hall, voice iron.
"Lynn saved my life. Saved Castle Black."
"He's proven his loyalty and courage."
"From this day forward, he is not only a benefactor to the Night's Watch—he is a warrior I, Jeor Mormont, recognize!"
"This sword. He has earned it!"
The hall fell silent.
Mormont's words hit like a hammer.
A Valyrian steel blade—passed down for centuries—given to an outsider?
It was... unheard of.
Valyrian steel swords were family heirlooms. Held by the head of the house. Steeped in legend and legacy.
This wasn't just a reward.
This was recognition.
This was trust.
This was Mormont naming Lynn as his heir in all but blood.
Every eye turned back to Lynn.
Shock. Confusion. Envy.
Jon Snow stared at Lynn, then at the wolf-headed pommel on Longclaw.
Envy, yes. But more than that—admiration.
Alliser Thorne collapsed back into his chair, drained.
I hit myself with my own rock.
Since Lynn arrived, nothing had gone right. Not one damn thing.
And the more he failed, the deeper his hatred burned.
Lunch ended in eerie silence.
Night's Watchmen kept stealing glances at Lynn.
Lynn acted like nothing had happened.
Finished his bread. Drained his stew. Left the hall.
From today on, his position at Castle Black was unshakable.
Except for that clown Thorne, no one would dare challenge him openly—or whisper behind his back.
That afternoon, Lynn arrived at the training yard.
As the newly appointed expedition commander, he needed to select fifty of the finest rangers from the Night's Watch.
Lord Commander Mormont had given him that authority.
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