Jeor Mormont left.
Only Lynn remained—and the wobbling three-headed little monster at his feet.
Winter seemed curious about everything in this world.
Its middle amber-eyed head carefully sniffed the cooled forge ash, then cautiously took a bite.
It sneezed violently.
The left glacial-blue-eyed head surveyed surroundings warily, throat occasionally releasing low whimpers.
The right smallest blood-red-eyed head impatiently tore at Lynn's pant leg with its teeth, seemingly urging something.
Until Nymeria pushed the door open with her wolf head—only then did the little one shift attention, chasing after Nymeria.
They live comfortably now.
Lynn didn't bother with them. Those three brothers would never be lonely—especially with Nymeria and Ghost to play with.
Lynn's mind still echoed with Maester Aemon's final words.
"Go... end this Long Night..."
Those words—like a branding iron—he couldn't calm his heart.
Lynn clutched the thick stack of books Aemon left behind.
These weren't just books.
Keys. Responsibility. A Targaryen's final bequest.
"Torren. Jason."
Lynn's voice rang through the empty smithy.
Two burly figures immediately entered from outside.
Their faces still carried undiminished shock.
"My lord."
"I'm heading south soon. Returning to Winterfell, then to King's Landing."
"While I'm gone, you two will temporarily manage everything at Castle Black for me."
"You'll also follow Lord Commander Mormont's arrangements."
"Any news—send ravens immediately."
Torren and Jason exchanged glances, then knelt on one knee.
"Yes, my lord!"
"First matter."
Lynn's gaze swept over them.
"Increase patrols beyond the Wall. Especially wildling gathering places and anywhere White Walkers or wights have appeared."
"All Night's Watch rangers, including my Northern guards—mobilize everyone."
"I don't care what methods you use. I want you constantly hunting those dead things."
"Kill wights on sight. Run from White Walkers. If you can't run—use dragonglass."
"Remember that large dragonglass chunk?"
"Bring it back. Make weapons from it."
"With dragonglass, you can resist White Walkers."
Jason seemed to realize something, understanding flashing in his eyes.
White Walkers aren't invincible.
Lynn continued.
"As for wildlings—if you encounter troublemakers, kill them too."
Though Lynn would be thousands of miles away, as long as forces under his command completed kills, the system would feed back experience to him.
That's his true purpose.
He'd turn the entire Night's Watch into his never-stopping experience harvesting machine!
"Second matter."
Lynn continued.
"Keep searching for blessed items for me. Anything you find strange, containing special power—all acceptable."
"Each type—I only need one."
"The rest, whether weapons or whatever else—belong to the finder."
This statement made Torren and Jason's breathing quicken.
They'd witnessed those blessed items' magic firsthand.
Lord Lynn's generosity would become the strongest motivation for all Night's Watchmen!
"Understood, my lord!"
"Go."
Lynn waved his hand.
"Have the brothers prepare. I depart tonight."
After the two left, Lynn—carrying books and followed by that little tagalong—returned to Maester Aemon's room.
The three-eyed raven still stood on the windowsill.
It hadn't left. Made no sound.
Simply watching him with those three differently colored eyes.
Like a silent warden.
Lynn's eyelid twitched.
He forced himself to ignore that spied-upon feeling, placing the books on the desk, then sitting on the bed.
Winter nimbly jumped onto the bed, three heads curiously approaching Lynn's face, extending forked tongues to lick his cheek.
Warm, moist sensation.
Lynn's irritation dissipated somewhat.
He reached out, stroking the middle head's smooth scales.
Just then—
"Flap—"
The three-eyed raven suddenly flew up, circling the room once, then landing precisely on Lynn's shoulder.
Lynn's body instantly stiffened.
He could feel those claws gripping his clothing tightly.
Before he could react—
The raven lowered its head, using its sharp beak to peck Lynn's ear—neither too light nor too heavy.
A foreign will instantly surged into Lynn's mind!
"We need to talk."
An aged voice spoke directly in his consciousness.
Lynn's pupils contracted sharply.
He shot up, swatting the raven off his shoulder!
Lynn's hand gripped Longclaw's hilt, every muscle tensing.
The raven fell to the ground—unharmed.
It calmly preened its feathers.
Raised its head again, gazing at Lynn with that blood-red eye.
"I am your past. And your future."
That voice returned, carrying strange mockery.
"I am the roots beneath the Wall. The eyes of the weirwood."
Lynn knew, of course.
"I know you're Brynden Rivers."
Hearing Lynn's words, the three-eyed raven seemed to freeze momentarily.
It apparently didn't expect Lynn to know its identity.
A monster living over a hundred years. A Targaryen bastard. Former Hand of the King. Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. And now—the Greenseer.
Always the one seeing through others. Never expected Lynn to know who it was.
"What do you want?"
Lynn's voice turned icy.
He stared hard at the raven, trying to find even a hint of weakness in those three eyes.
"What I want—same as you."
Bloodraven's voice filled with temptation.
"Power."
"And... a way to end this eternal night."
"I don't need your help." Lynn coldly refused.
He'd never trust a monster living who-knows-how-many years with good intentions.
"Is that so?"
Bloodraven released a strange laugh.
"Then that sword at your waist, that dragon egg you held, and how you suddenly seem like a different person... you think they're enough?"
The Three-Eyed Raven—far stranger than he imagined.
"What exactly do you want?" Lynn asked curiously.
Wary, yes—but Lynn didn't fear him.
Just an old cripple who can't move. Separated by vast distance—can't kill him anyway.
"I want you to go somewhere."
Bloodraven finally revealed its purpose.
"The Fist of the First Men."
Lynn's brow furrowed tighter.
He knew that place, of course. An ancient ringfort beyond the Wall. Easy to defend, hard to attack. Also where the Night's Watch would suffer catastrophic defeat in the future.
"Why should I listen to you?"
"Because there's something there I believe you'll find very interesting."
Bloodraven's voice carried unquestionable certainty.
"A horn."
"A horn that makes giants kneel. Makes the dead speak."
"A horn... that can wake the earth."
The Horn of Winter.
The Horn of Joramun.
That legendary apocalyptic artifact—once blown, it could destroy the Wall!
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