Catelyn's heart contracted sharply.
"Who are you?"
Her voice trembled with fear.
"Get out!"
The man didn't speak. He simply looked at Bran on the bed with eyes devoid of emotion. Then, he raised the dagger.
"No!"
Catelyn screamed and lunged forward. Using all her strength, she grabbed the man's arm holding the knife.
The man obviously hadn't expected this seemingly frail noblewoman to possess such strength. He stumbled from the impact.
"Get off, you crazy woman!"
The man growled, his other hand seizing Catelyn by the throat. Catelyn couldn't breathe; black spots danced before her eyes. But her hand gripping his arm refused to let go, holding on as if her life depended on it.
Summer roared and pounced, biting down hard on the man's calf. The man screamed, trying to kick the direwolf away. A fierce light flared in his eyes; he wrenched the dagger free from Catelyn's grasp and prepared to stab viciously at her chest.
In that split second of life and death.
Bang!
The door was smashed open by a tremendous force.
Lynn was the first to rush in. What he saw was the dagger about to pierce Catelyn's chest.
Without hesitation. Lynn raised the longsword in his hand and thrust it straight at the man's heart.
The man sensed the fatal threat from behind. He abandoned Catelyn and rolled awkwardly to the side. The sharp sword tip grazed his ribs, leaving a deep gash that exposed bone.
Before he could steady himself, several other Stark guards had already blocked all his escape routes.
A look of despair flashed in the man's eyes. He knew he had fallen into a trap. He bit down on the poison in his mouth, intending to make a desperate last stand!
"Die!"
The man let out a beast-like roar and charged recklessly toward Bran on the bed. He had to complete his mission.
But Lynn was faster. His body instantly closed in on the assassin.
Schluk.
The sword edge cleanly pierced the man's throat.
The man's movements froze instantly. His eyes bulged round, staring at Lynn in disbelief. He opened his mouth, a gurgling sound coming from his throat as blood gushed from the corner of his mouth.
Then, he fell straight back.
> [Enemy Killed: 1. Experience +1]
> [Current Experience: 7]
Kill a few more people, and I can level up my Light Sword skill soon!
Lynn pulled the longsword from the corpse. Warm blood slid down the blade, dripping onto the floor. Lynn wiped the longsword on the assassin's body; the blood was quickly cleared, and Lynn resheathed it at his waist.
The room fell into dead silence.
Catelyn collapsed on the floor. She gasped for large mouthfuls of air, her face wet with indistinguishable tears and sweat. She was terrified.
The guards stood with swords drawn, vigilantly surrounding the corpse.
Someone was secretly monitoring Ned's every move. Ned couldn't act rashly. Upon hearing the commotion here, he had practically sprinted over.
He saw the corpse on the ground, the still-shaken Catelyn, and the unharmed Bran.
Ned's gaze finally landed on Lynn. That look was complex to the extreme. Shock, lingering fear, relief, and... an indescribable trust.
Lynn's prediction had saved the Starks once again.
Soon, Ned's attention was drawn to a glint of cold light beside the corpse. He walked over and bent down.
It was a dagger. Even in this dim light, the dagger emitted a luster that didn't belong to ordinary objects. The blade was covered in ripples like flowing water.
That was the unique mark of Valyrian steel!
The method for forging Valyrian steel had long been lost. Only a thousand such blades remained in the entire world. And in the Western continent—all of Westeros—there were fewer than 200 Valyrian steel weapons. Extremely precious.
Its hilt was made of some kind of pale bone, carved with complex and ancient patterns.
Dragonbone.
Ned picked up the dagger. A cold and heavy sensation came from his palm.
This wasn't an ordinary assassin's weapon. It was more like a work of art. A treasure that would turn the head of any lord. In all of Westeros, families possessing such a weapon could be counted on one hand.
To use such a luxurious dagger to assassinate a child—the meaning behind this made Ned's blood almost congeal.
Who else but the Lannisters would be so flush with wealth?
"Clean this place up," Ned's voice was hoarse, devoid of emotion. He didn't look at anyone.
The guards dared not hesitate; they immediately stepped forward and dragged the still-warm corpse out.
Soon, Maester Luwin arrived upon hearing the news. He supported the trembling Catelyn and led her away from this bloody scene.
The door was closed. Only Ned and Lynn remained in the room.
Ned walked up to Lynn. He said nothing, just looked at the young man before him. Looking at his pale face, his blood-stained black clothes, and his eyes that remained terrifyingly calm in the firelight.
Prophecy. The fall. The assassination.
Time and again. This crow who fled back from the Wall had used his actions to pull House Stark back from the edge of the cliff time and again.
Ned raised the dagger in his hand, then offered it to Lynn.
"You saved Catelyn. You saved Bran. This dagger is what you deserve."
Lynn's gaze fell on the dagger. He didn't reach out to take it immediately.
He recognized this dagger. In his memory, the owner of this dagger was Petyr Baelish. The man nicknamed "Littlefinger." He was once Catelyn's childhood friend, now the Master of Coin in King's Landing. A man who had nothing but money.
He had lost this dagger to Tyrion Lannister. And now, this dagger appeared in Winterfell. In the hands of the murderer who tried to kill Bran.
This was truly a perfect frame-up. A vicious trap sufficient to provoke an endless war between the Lion and the Direwolf!
"My Lord," Lynn finally spoke. "This is too precious."
"Precious?" Ned twitched the corner of his mouth self-deprecatingly. "No matter how precious a thing is, it cannot trade for a life."
"Take it." Ned's tone allowed no refusal. "You are a warrior. An excellent warrior needs a weapon that befits him. And you deserve to have it."
Ned forced the dagger into Lynn's hand. The dragonbone hilt felt cold to the touch. That delicate texture seemed to still carry the breath of ancient dragons.
Lynn gripped the dagger tightly and refused no more. No one could refuse such a divine weapon.
Ned looked at Lynn.
"Lynn. Tomorrow I will personally escort you and Jon to the Wall. Be ready."
Ned patted Lynn's shoulder heavily. He turned, opened the door, and his tall figure didn't linger for a moment, disappearing quickly at the end of the corridor.
He was going to comfort his wife. And to prepare for that journey south destined to be filled with blood and conspiracy.
The study returned to silence.
Lynn looked down at the Valyrian steel dagger in his hand. The blade reflected his calm face.
He didn't reveal Littlefinger's conspiracy. Muddying the waters was not only what Petyr hoped for, but also what a small character like himself hoped would happen.