Lynn sheathed his dagger.
Warm blood splattered on the back of his hand, but he didn't care. He merely wiped it casually on the corpse's clothes.
The camp was filled with a strange mixture of blood, the stench of burning, and pine needles.
The Northern soldiers had already untied the survivors. The merchants collapsed on the ground, their bodies trembling violently from fear and cold. They looked at the corpses strewn across the ground, then at Lynn, their eyes filled with awe.
The fat merchant leader, the one Lynn had saved earlier, struggled to crawl to Lynn, dragging his broken leg.
"My Lord!"
Tears and snot running down his face, he prostrate on the muddy, blood-stained ground.
"You saved us all!"
"My life, everything I have, is yours!"
He pulled a heavy purse from his chest and held it high above his head.
"This is all my savings. Please, you must accept it!"
Lynn's gaze swept over the purse, then returned to the merchant's face, which was filled with the relief of surviving a disaster.
"I accept your thanks."
Lynn's voice was calm and unwavering.
He didn't take the purse but said to Torren behind him, "Calculate their losses. Compensate them from the bandits' loot."
"The remaining loot will be used as military funds."
The merchants were stunned.
Torren was also stunned for a moment, but he immediately responded loudly, "As you command, my Lord!"
Lynn bent down and helped the merchant up.
"In the North, under the banner of House Stark, no one can do as they please. Clearing bandits is our duty."
With that, Lynn didn't look at the merchants again and turned to walk out of the camp.
Jon followed him silently, not saying a word. The night wind blew, lifting the hem of Lynn's black coat. In Jon's eyes, there was a faint look of admiration.
---
When Lynn led the team back to the camp, the horizon was already showing the first light of dawn.
Arya was the first to rush out of her tent. She immediately saw the shaken merchants and the extra wagons in the group.
"Lynn!"
She ran to Lynn's horse, looking up with her small face, eyes shining.
"Did you save them all?"
"What about the bad guys?"
"Did you kill them all?"
Lynn dismounted and rubbed her head. "Yes. The problem is solved."
Arya's face bloomed with a look of adoration. In her view, this was what a hero should do.
Jon also walked over. His gaze was complex. Watching Lynn's intimate interaction with Arya, his lips moved. He seemed to want to say something but ultimately chose silence.
He and Lynn were actually of a kind. Except one was a bastard, and the other had a huge status gap with Arya. From the bottom of his heart, he hoped Lynn could turn the tables against the odds.
"Brilliant."
A voice carrying a hint of mockery sounded.
Tyrion Lannister, holding a cup of wine, waddled out of his tent. His dwarf figure cast a short shadow in the morning light.
"I heard. A standard dose of Northern justice. Swift, thorough, leaving no future trouble."
Tyrion walked up to Lynn. In those mismatched eyes—one black, one green—shone the light of wisdom that saw through everything.
"I'm just curious. Why did you choose to do it yourself, killing them one by one? Wouldn't it be less effort to leave that kind of thing to your men?"
Lynn met Tyrion's gaze. "In the North, the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. This is Northern tradition."
Tyrion laughed. "Ned Stark's tradition, I know. But you are not a lord, Lynn. You are just... a nameless warrior."
Tyrion took a sip of wine, the smile on his lips deepening.
"Did you do it to awe your subordinates? Or to... enjoy the process?"
Lynn didn't answer. He just looked at Tyrion calmly.
The two stared at each other for a moment. Tyrion shrugged and looked away first.
"Fine, pretend I didn't ask. Only an interesting puzzle is worth spending time to solve."
Tyrion turned and waddled back to his tent.
Another day of travel passed. Night fell again.
The bonfires in the camp burned brightly. Soldiers talked in low voices, while the merchants gathered together to pray for their dead companions.
Lynn planned to send these merchants to the nearest castle. This wasn't entirely thankless work. These merchants traveled all over Westeros and could, to some extent, expand Lynn's influence. Even though that influence was currently microscopic.
Lynn found Benjen Stark.
The First Ranger was sitting alone by a fire, carefully wiping his longbow. The bow was made of yew, simple and sturdy, carved with fine patterns, clearly a companion of many years. Every ranger had a bow.
"Lord Benjen."
Lynn sat opposite him.
Benjen looked up, his weathered grey eyes looking exceptionally sharp in the firelight.
"Something the matter?"
"I want to ask you for guidance on archery."
Lynn got straight to the point.
Benjen paused in wiping his bow. He looked Lynn up and down, seeming a bit surprised.
"The sword is a knight's weapon. The bow and arrow is a ranger's weapon. However, since you want to learn, I naturally have no reason to refuse."
Benjen's voice was low and powerful. He had seen Lynn fight. This young man was decisive, fierce, and calm enough. He was good material for a ranger.
"Watch closely."
Benjen stood up, picked up his longbow, and casually nocked an arrow. He didn't aim at anything; he just drew the string. The bowstring was pulled into a full moon. The muscles in his arm bulged, yet he was as steady as a rock.
"Your shoulder, your arm, your back, must form a line. Use your back to pull the string, not your arm. Feel that power, transmitting from your feet all the way to your fingertips."
Benjen released the string. The arrow flew into the distant darkness with a shriek, vanishing without a trace.
Lynn stood up, mimicked him, and picked up a spare bow. He adjusted his posture according to Benjen's instructions.
Once. Twice.
He tirelessly repeated the drawing motion, feeling the subtle changes in every muscle of his body.
Every archer was a strongman. If one truly treated them as weaklings in melee, that would be a huge mistake. Indeed, to some extent, the strength and endurance of these archers far exceeded that of normal warriors!
Sweat began to slide down Lynn's forehead. His arms started to ache, but he didn't care. In Lynn's mind, there were only Benjen's words, every detail.
> [Through diligent practice, master guidance, and meeting the Strength attribute requirement, successfully learned new skill]
> [Archery (Beginner) 1/10]
The corner of Lynn's mouth hooked up in an imperceptible arc.
Done.
But he soon felt unsatisfied again. He looked around.
Jon's swordsmanship was good, but it overlapped with his own. Torren and the guards possessed only ordinary sword skills. What these people could teach him was too little.
He needed more experience, more skills. He needed to go to a wider world. The Wall was just a start.
The next day.
The group continued north. The Kingsroad was like a grey scar on the boundless snowy plain.
Around noon.
The scout responsible for reconnaissance ahead rode back.
"My Lord! A group spotted ahead! They are also flying the banner of the Night's Watch!"
Benjen's brow raised, and he urged his horse forward. Lynn followed.
Soon, a black group appeared on the horizon. There were about thirty of them, travel-worn.
Leading them was a tall, middle-aged man with a determined face.
"Yoren!"
Benjen recognized him and shouted.
The man called Yoren also saw Benjen, a look of surprise appearing on his face.
The two groups met in the middle of the snow.
"Benjen!"
Yoren dismounted and gave Benjen a bear hug.
"Didn't expect to meet you here! I thought you were already back at Castle Black."
Yoren was a recruiter for the Night's Watch, responsible for escorting criminals destined for the Wall.
"I'm escorting my nephew to the Wall." Benjen pointed to Jon.
Yoren's gaze lingered on Jon for a moment. He seemed a bit surprised but nodded.
Then, his gaze swept over Lynn, Arya, and the hundred elite Northern soldiers.
"This is..."
Yoren's face was filled with confusion and a trace of imperceptible distance. Clearly, he recognized Lynn. The man rumored in Castle Black to be a deserter.
"Lord Stark is going to King's Landing to serve as Hand." Benjen explained simply. "This is the guard he gave Lynn, specifically to escort Arya north."