When Lynn stepped out, Ser Alliser Thorne's voice echoed across the training yard.
"You soft Southern weaklings!"
"You can't even hold a sword steady, and you want to be Night's Watchmen?"
His gaze landed on Lynn as he exited the door.
He didn't dare provoke him openly, but his heart felt blocked with resentment.
Finally, his hateful gaze fell upon Jon Snow.
The disdain in his eyes was almost tangible.
"Look at our noble Lord Snow."
"The bastard of the Lord of Winterfell."
Thorne drawled, his face twisted with unconcealed malice.
"In his warm castle, he had a master-at-arms to teach him swordplay."
"Unlike you lot, just a bunch of fatherless bastards."
Jon gripped his sword hilt tightly.
His lips were pressed into a thin line, and he said nothing.
He knew any retort would only invite more vicious humiliation.
"Since Lord Snow is so excellent."
Thorne's mouth split into a cruel grin.
"Let him teach you what real fighting is."
He waved his hand at the other recruits.
"All of you, at once."
"Let our Lord Snow give you a good lesson."
The recruits looked at each other.
Most were pickpockets from Flea Bottom or farmers abandoned by their lords.
They didn't know how to fight properly.
However, under Thorne's pressure, a burly boy named Grenn was the first to raise his sword.
Pyp followed suit.
"Come on."
Others closed in as well.
Jon's heart sank.
He looked around and saw only faces full of hostility.
The words of Ser Rodrik Cassel, who had taught him at Winterfell, echoed in his ears.
"When facing multiple enemies, do not linger. Find the opening and strike them down one by one."
Jon took a deep breath. Thorne's insults stoked the fire of anger in his heart.
He lowered his center of gravity, assuming a standard defensive stance.
The first recruit charged, hacking down wildly with his sword.
Jon didn't block it head-on.
He slid sideways, dodging easily.
Simultaneously, he thrust his sword forward, rapping the flat of the blade precisely against the other's wrist.
Clang.
The iron sword hit the ground.
The recruit clutched his wrist, grimacing in pain.
Second, third...
Jon's figure wove nimbly through the encirclement.
Using the techniques taught by Ser Rodrik, he disarmed them one by one, knocking opponents down hard with fists and elbows.
Cries of pain rose and fell across the training yard.
Many recruits were clutching bloody noses or stomachs where Jon had kicked them.
In just a few moments.
All the attacking recruits lay groaning on the ground, bruised and battered.
Jon stood in the center of the yard, his chest heaving slightly.
Looking at the moaning recruits, he felt no joy of victory, only suppressed anger.
Ser Alliser Thorne's face was terrifyingly dark.
He had intended to use this opportunity to humiliate Jon thoroughly.
He hadn't expected the bastard to steal the show instead.
"Very good."
Thorne squeezed the words through his teeth.
He looked at Jon, his expression turning amused in a cruel way.
"However, Lord Snow, you haven't made any friends today."
With that, Thorne turned and stormed off.
Jon sneered internally.
Friends?
These people are criminals. How could I ever be friends with the likes of them!
---
Training ended.
Jon walked alone down the dark corridor leading to the armory.
The events of the day made him feel more isolated than ever.
He thought that at the Wall, birth no longer mattered.
That all were brothers of the Night's Watch.
But reality had just slapped him hard in the face.
Footsteps approached from behind.
Jon stopped and turned around.
It was Grenn, Pyp, and two other recruits he had knocked down earlier.
They blocked the other end of the corridor.
"Little bastard, you broke my nose."
Grenn cracked his knuckles.
Jon instinctively reached for his waist.
It was empty.
After training, all weapons had to be turned in.
Jon looked back at Grenn's bleeding nose and said with contempt:
"Consider it an improvement."
He was confident he could beat them even bare-handed.
But unexpectedly, Grenn roared, and the other recruits rushed forward, pinning Jon firmly against the wall.
This change caught Jon off guard.
Clearly, they had come prepared.
Grenn pulled a dagger from his tunic.
"I think I need to wipe your neck a little."
The cold blade reflected a ghostly light.
"Guess how long it would take you to hit the ground if I threw you off the Wall?"
"Aren't you a great fighter?"
"Why aren't you talking now?"
Grenn grabbed Jon by the collar, the dagger pressed against Jon's throat.
Jon stared dead into Grenn's eyes.
He didn't beg for mercy.
A Stark would not bow to anyone.
Just then.
The door creaked open.
Grenn's body went rigid.
He and the other two recruits looked toward the sound.
A figure walked slowly out from behind the door.
It was Lynn.
He had been waiting outside.
As if he had known this scene would play out from the start.
"This is between us recruits."
Grenn shouted, though his voice wavered.
"It has nothing to do with you... with you!"
Lynn ignored him.
His gaze bypassed Grenn and landed on Jon.
"Scared?"
Jon didn't answer.
But his rapid breathing betrayed his inner tension.
Lynn smiled.
He took a step forward.
"I don't like people pointing weapons at my friends."
"Put the dagger down."
"Or else, I don't mind adding a few corpses to this hallway."
The recruits instinctively took a step back.
They had seen with their own eyes how Lynn defeated Ser Alliser Thorne.
That fear made their legs weak.
Grenn dared not hold out any longer and wisely withdrew the dagger.
Jon slumped against the wall, his tone self-deprecating.
"Everyone knew what this place was, but no one told me."
"Except you and Tyrion."
"My father must have known, yet he still agreed to let me join the Watch."
Tyrion, hearing the commotion, had intended to come over and investigate, only to find Lynn leaning against the doorframe.
He sidled up, wanting to see exactly what was happening.
Quickly, he pieced together the key points from the fragmented conversation.
He had been present earlier when Jon Snow was targeted by Alliser Thorne.
He had also seen Jon thrash the recruits.
Connecting the two, it was obviously a premeditated act of retaliation.
Although he felt a kinship with Jon as a fellow outcast, it seemed his intervention wasn't needed right now.
Because Lynn was already handling it.
He crossed his arms and watched from the side.
Ready to see how Lynn would resolve this matter.