The early morning air in Winterfell was piercingly cold.
The courtyard was a scene of chaos, white breaths from men and horses mingling together.
Two groups were making final preparations for departure.
One headed south, banners fluttering. They surrounded the King and the newly appointed Hand of the King.
The other headed north, much smaller in scale. Only a hundred or so elite Northern cavalry, silent and grim.
Ned Stark, dressed in heavy furs, walked up to Lynn. The noise of the courtyard seemed to be walled off.
"Lynn, you must remember what I said before."
"You are the Hand of the King, my Lord, but in King's Landing, you possess no power of your own."
"Who do the Gold Cloaks obey?"
"Who do the nobles at court pledge loyalty to?"
"Investigating now is like sticking your head into a lion's mouth and hoping it won't close its jaws."
Lynn's words, though harsh, were reality.
Ned hesitated for a long time before nodding.
"I can hold off on investigating Jon's death for now, but what should I do? Just wait?"
"Do nothing."
Lynn gave an answer Ned couldn't understand.
"Listen to me. Play the part of the simple-minded, honor-bound brute they imagine you to be."
"Let them underestimate you. Let them think you pose no threat."
"The more incompetent and absurd you act, the more they will lower their guard."
"That is the way of survival in King's Landing."
Ned's breathing grew heavy. These words completely overturned the principles he had followed his entire life. Act the fool? That was harder than killing him.
"Your primary mission is not revenge, but survival."
"Lord Arryn has just been murdered; everyone is watching you."
"If you show your sharp edge now, you will certainly become a target."
Lynn looked straight into Ned's eyes, explaining the stakes once more.
"Only by surviving can you protect the King and your family."
"You need time, my Lord."
"Don't rush. Slowly find the vipers hiding in King's Landing one by one."
"Then, use the Northern way to chop off their heads."
Ned gripped his sword hilt, veins bulging on the back of his hand. He glanced at Sansa, who was gazing at Prince Joffrey with adoration not far away. Then he looked at Arya, who was hopping around beside Lynn with Needle at her waist.
For the children.
The resolve in Ned's eyes finally softened slightly.
"I understand," Ned rasped. "I will... be careful."
He reached out and patted Lynn heavily on the shoulder.
"I leave my daughter to you."
"And Jon. His status will attract attacks from many; please look after him as well."
"Bring Arya back safely and take care of them."
"I'm counting on you, Lynn!"
Lynn nodded solemnly. "As you command, my Lord."
A horn sounded. The southbound procession began to move slowly.
"Ned!" King Robert's impatient urging could be heard faintly.
Ned took one last look at Lynn and Arya. He turned and strode toward that journey to power and death.
Lynn watched the massive procession disappear into the distance. He turned to face Jon Snow, Arya Stark, Benjen Stark, and an unexpected guest—the Imp, Tyrion Lannister.
"We should get moving too."
Jon led his white horse. His face was expressionless as he nodded to Lynn.
Arya was flushed with excitement. She had finally left the suffocating Winterfell.
Lynn mounted his horse. The hundred Northern cavalrymen mounted in unison. These were House Stark's most loyal warriors. For the honor of the Starks, they would give everything, including their lives. Now, they took orders only from Lynn.
"Hyah!"
Lynn shook the reins; his warhorse whinnied and led the way north.
The group set foot on the Kingsroad.
Vast wilderness stretched on both sides of the road, snow covering the earth. The distant trees were bare, like rows of silent sentinels.
This was clearly Arya's first long journey. Riding a docile mare, she darted back and forth within the column, finding everything novel.
"Lynn, what's beyond the Wall?"
"Have you been there?"
"Can you take me to see?"
...
Jon followed silently beside Lynn. He glanced back at the receding silhouette of Winterfell, his eyes complex. That was the home where he had lived for over a decade. And a place that would never belong to him.
"What are you thinking?" Lynn asked.
Jon snapped back to reality and shook his head. "Nothing."
Lynn said to Jon, "You must have visited Bran last night." "Did Lady Stark give you a hard time?"
Jon looked somewhat desolate. "She has always been like that. I'm used to it."
Lynn smiled and comforted him, "The Wall is a good place. There, birth doesn't matter. The Night's Watch are brothers; it doesn't matter if you're a bastard."
Jon's body stiffened. He looked up at Lynn.
Lynn's gaze was fixed on the North, that end of the world.
"Tyrion was right."
"Never forget what you are."
"Because the world will not."
"Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you."
Jon chewed on these words, thoughtful. On the night of the feast, he had been driven away by Catelyn, feeling restless. Hearing these words again now, with a different mindset, his understanding was naturally different.
Riding his horse, Tyrion raised his cup to Lynn from afar.
The group traveled for most of the day, and the sky gradually darkened. Lynn ordered camp to be set up in the lee of a hill.
Soldiers skillfully lit fires and pitched tents. Soon, dozens of bonfires lit up the wilderness. The warm light dispelled the cold and darkness.
Lynn handed a piece of roasted venison to Arya. The little girl was starving. She grabbed the meat and wolfed it down, not acting like a lady at all.
"Lynn! I didn't know you were such a good cook!"
Just then, a scout rode out of the darkness. He dismounted in front of Lynn.
"My Lord," the scout's voice was grave. "Five miles ahead, we found a caravan. They seem to be in trouble."
Lynn raised an eyebrow. "Trouble?"
"Yes, my Lord," the scout replied. "Their wagons are stuck in the mud, and around them... there is a lot of blood. It looks like they've just been through a battle."