"You blame your father for dumping you in this place?"
Lynn pointed at Grenn.
"He was only three when his father left him outside the farmstead to fend for himself."
Lynn's gaze swept to the others.
"Pyp stole a wheel of cheese because his sister hadn't eaten in three days. He had to take the black or lose a hand."
Grenn and Pyp looked at Lynn in unison, seemingly confused about how he knew their life stories and crimes.
Seeing Lynn defending these two lowlifes, Jon grew agitated.
"They hate me!"
"Because they can't beat me, they use these despicable tactics to ambush me!"
Lynn nodded.
"Yes, you are indeed better than them."
"Not everyone gets the chance to be personally tutored in swordsmanship by Ser Rodrik Cassel."
"I guarantee these two never even touched a decent sword before coming here."
"Do you still think you're 'better' than them?"
Jon froze.
Put that way, he had only defeated a couple of untrained commoners. What was there to be arrogant about?
Moreover, most men who came to the Watch had their own unspeakable hardships.
They didn't seem as unbearable as he had imagined.
Watching Jon fall into thought, Lynn knew he understood.
Instead of antagonizing his brothers, it was better to lay down his prejudices and integrate.
That way, Jon could truly get along with these people.
It was better than shouting and fighting every day.
Having helped Jon resolve his interpersonal issues, Lynn could now accept the Old Bear's ancestral sword, "Longclaw," with a clear conscience.
Lynn patted Jon on the shoulder, then pointed at Grenn and Pyp, who were staring wide-eyed.
"Teach them the swordplay you learned from Ser Rodrik. Guide them. I believe you'll soon have a group of good companions."
Tyrion crossed his arms, his mismatched eyes shining with a light akin to admiration.
He looked at Lynn.
"You really are an interesting person."
Tyrion's voice broke the stagnant air.
"Lynn, you should be the High Septon, not stuck in this frozen hellhole."
Lynn ignored his teasing.
His gaze remained on Jon.
Jon lowered his head, his face flushing red and white.
He had always thought that by coming to the Wall, he had given up everything Stark.
But now he realized he had never truly let go.
Grenn, Pyp, and the others also lowered their heads, daring not to look at Lynn.
The resentment in their hearts had mostly dissipated after Lynn spoke those words of understanding.
"Let's go."
Lynn patted Jon on the shoulder.
Jon nodded silently.
---
"My Lord, a raven from Winterfell."
A steward respectfully handed a small scroll of parchment to Lord Commander Mormont.
The Old Bear unrolled the parchment and held it up to the firelight.
A look of relief gradually appeared on his wrinkled face.
"Good news."
Lord Commander Mormont put down the parchment and looked at Benjen and Maester Aemon in the room.
"Bran Stark can walk with a crutch."
Benjen's face instantly blossomed with ecstasy.
"The Old Gods be praised!"
Maester Aemon smiled too.
Though blind, he could feel the joyous atmosphere in the room.
When Jon heard the news, his body shook violently.
Bran...
The little brother who always followed him around, dreaming of becoming a knight.
The brother who had fallen from the tower and lay in a coma.
He could walk?
An indescribable joy instantly washed away the gloom that had accumulated in Jon's heart recently.
He stood up abruptly, wanting to find someone to share this joy with.
But looking around, he saw only numb or indifferent faces.
His joy was understood by no one here.
Jon's heart sank again.
He thought of Bran, of Robb, of Arya and Rickon.
He thought of the warm hearths of Winterfell and the smiling faces of his family.
He raised his cup and downed the remaining ale in one gulp.
The cold liquid slid down his throat.
"Drinking alone is a bad habit."
Tyrion had sat down opposite him at some point.
He poured himself a cup, then refilled Jon's empty one.
"To Bran Stark."
Tyrion raised his cup.
Jon looked at him, said nothing, but raised his cup and clinked it against Tyrion's.
Clang.
The crisp sound was inconspicuous in the noisy mess hall.
"You don't look very happy," Tyrion sipped his wine.
"Your brother is walking. Isn't that wonderful news?"
"I..."
Jon opened his mouth but didn't know what to say.
He was happy.
But he felt even more guilty.
When his family needed him most, he was at the end of the world.
Tyrion seemed to see through his thoughts.
"You blame your father?"
Jon shook his head.
"Then you blame yourself?"
Jon fell silent.
Tyrion put down his cup, pulled a wax-sealed envelope from his tunic, and pushed it toward Jon.
"What is this?"
"Some boring advice."
Tyrion shrugged.
"On how to survive here, and live like a human being."
Jon looked at the envelope but didn't reach for it.
Tyrion smiled and stood up.
"Don't be in a hurry to refuse."
"Maybe one day, you'll need it."
With that, he walked away unsteadily with his wine cup.
Leaving Jon alone, staring blankly at the letter.
---
Night deepened.
Jon found Lynn, who was wiping his longsword.
In Lynn's room, Torren and several other guards were helping him pack.
Arrows, dried rations, waterskins.
They were setting out early tomorrow morning, heading beyond the Wall.
"Lynn."
Jon stood at the door, his voice hesitant.
Lynn looked up.
"Something the matter?"
"You... you're going to King's Landing. Will you pass by Winterfell?"
Lynn's hand paused on the blade.
He looked into Jon's expectant eyes and nodded.
"Of course."
"Then... could you do me a favor..."
Jon's lips moved, but the rest of the words seemed stuck in his throat.
"Give a message to Bran for me."
His voice held an imperceptible tremor.
"Tell him I think of him every day."
"Tell him... to be strong."
Lynn stood up and walked over to Jon.
He didn't speak, just reached out and patted Jon heavily on the shoulder.
"I will."
Two simple words, but they made Jon's eyes redden instantly.
He nodded vigorously, turned, and walked away quickly.
Lynn watched his back until he disappeared at the end of the corridor.
"My Lord."
Torren's voice pulled Lynn's thoughts back.
"We're ready."
Lynn withdrew his gaze.
Thinking about how these Northmen worshiped melee combat and always charged forward regardless of the consequences, Lynn felt a headache coming on.
It seemed necessary to give them a reminder first.
Lynn walked to the map and traced his finger across it.
"Our target is this area."
His finger stopped on a marked location named the "Haunted Forest."
"Lord Commander Mormont says there has been significant wildling activity here recently."
"Listen well. Remember this always: do not charge in blindly."
Lynn's gaze swept over every guard in the room.
"Wildlings are stronger than you think. Use your brains. Don't just rush in and trade lives."
"Use our advantage in discipline and tactics to get the biggest result for the smallest price."
"Use poison, use traps, use arrows, use every means available."
"I don't want to see any of you losing your lives to those savages."
Although this was a bit un-Northern, who didn't want to live?
"As you command, my Lord!"
A uniform, low roar of suppressed excitement filled the room.
Other lords always preached about honor, bravery, sacrifice, and other hollow words.
But Lord Lynn... he seemed a bit different from the others.
Lynn nodded and walked to the window.
He pushed it open.
The cold night wind mixed with snowflakes hit his face.
In the distance, the Wall stretching across the world looked like a sleeping white dragon under the moonlight.
And on the other side of the dragon.
In the endless darkness, countless experience points were waiting for him.