The dawn wind, laden with ice shards, scraped across the battlements of Castle Black.
The heavy iron portcullis rose slowly with the creaking and groaning of the winch.
A deep, dark tunnel revealed itself to the gathered men.
At the other end lay endless white.
Benjen Stark sat astride his warhorse, clad in black.
He turned back, his gaze resting on Jon.
There was worry in his eyes, but also expectation.
"Take care of yourself."
Benjen's voice was fragmented by the wind.
Jon nodded vigorously, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Benjen's gaze then shifted to Lynn.
"Beyond the Wall, there are not just wildlings."
"There are older things."
"Do not be careless."
Lynn met his gaze and nodded slightly.
"Understood."
The two groups parted ways at the tunnel mouth.
Benjen led his ranger squad northeast toward the Frostfangs.
They were going to investigate rumors of Mance Rayder, the King-Beyond-the-Wall, gathering the tribes.
Lynn, meanwhile, led his hundred elite Northern cavalrymen due north.
Their destination was the Haunted Forest.
Arya stood on the Wall, her small figure wrapped in a thick fur cloak.
She watched Lynn's column disappear into the wind and snow until not even a black dot remained.
The girl's eyes were slightly red.
Tyrion stood not far away.
He looked out at the vast snowy expanse, a complex, unreadable light flashing in his mismatched eyes.
...
Hooves crunched on the thick snow, making a dull sound.
Silence reigned all around, dead and heavy.
Only the wind whistled through the bare tree trunks like a whimper.
The Haunted Forest.
The trees here were twisted and ancient.
Black trunks were draped with icicles that refracted cold light under the grey sky.
Lynn pulled on his reins, and the column halted.
He dismounted and crouched down.
There was a messy trail of footprints in the snow.
Deep prints, sunken into the powder.
Whoever made them was in a hurry.
"Wildlings."
Torren leaned in, rubbing a pinch of snow between his fingers.
"From the looks of it, not more than half a day old."
Lynn stood up, scanning the depths of the forest.
"My Lord, do we engage directly?"
A guard asked in a lowered voice, hand already on his sword hilt.
"No."
Lynn shook his head.
He looked at the twenty archers in the group.
"We are hunters."
"Surround them quietly."
"Make no sound."
"Wait for my signal."
The column instantly dispersed.
They melted silently into the black and white forest.
Every soldier moved with lightness and speed.
Using trees and rocks for cover, they inched toward their target.
Lynn took the lead.
His longsword remained sheathed.
In its place, he held a yew longbow selected from the Castle Black armory.
In his quiver, every arrowhead was coated with the paralyzing poison Maester Aemon had brewed.
Soon.
A small clearing appeared ahead.
Eight wildlings dressed in furs were gathered around a campfire.
Their weapons were crude stone axes and bone spears.
One of them, who looked like the leader, was distributing dried meat to the others.
Lynn showed no mercy.
He slowly raised the longbow.
The string was drawn into a full moon.
The cold arrowhead aimed at the wildling leader handing out food.
Lynn's fingers released.
Thwip!
A soft sound of breaking air.
The feathered arrow, like a black bolt of lightning, cut through the silent woods.
The wildling leader's body jerked violently.
He looked down, staring in disbelief at the arrow piercing his chest.
His mouth opened and closed, but his body felt devoid of strength.
His vitality was robust; the arrow didn't kill him instantly, but he collapsed heavily to the ground.
The other wildlings jumped up in terror.
Before they could react.
A rain of arrows whistled in from all directions.
Thud!
Squelch!
The sound of sharp arrows biting into flesh rang out densely.
Screams were cut short.
The whole process took less than ten breaths.
The battle was over.
Only eight corpses bristling with arrows remained in the clearing.
And the flickering campfire.
> [Killed 8 enemies. Experience +10]
The system notification rang in Lynn's mind.
Lynn lowered his longbow.
"Check them."
"Finish them off, then collect the loot."
Torren led a few guards carefully into the clearing.
They pierced the hearts of the wildlings one by one with their sword tips to ensure they were dead.
The loot was pitifully scarce.
A few tattered furs, some crude weapons.
And some moldy food.
Completely worthless.
"My Lord, this wildling had something on him."
A guard pulled a small pouch sewn from unknown animal skin from the wildling leader's tunic.
The pouch was old.
Strange symbols were drawn on it in red dye.
Lynn walked over.
He took the pouch and opened it.
A fresh scent of earth and vegetation wafted out.
Inside the pouch was the root of a plant.
The root was entirely blood-red.
Silver, vein-like patterns covered its surface.
Under the grey sky, it seemed to pulse slightly, emitting a faint halo.
Lynn's pupils contracted sharply in an instant.
Maester Aemon's words in his solar flashed through his mind.
"In the lands of the far North, there grow plants blessed by the Old Gods."
"They draw the purest power from the earth and ice."
"One of them is called Frostheart. Blood-red root, silver veins."
"Consuming it increases strength."
Lynn's fingers trembled slightly.
Looking at the blood-red root in his hand, his heart pounded uncontrollably.
Frostheart.
A miracle herb that could enhance physical constitution!
Lynn didn't hesitate.
He put the Frostheart into his mouth.
As the root entered his mouth, a spicy juice exploded instantly.
It was like swallowing a mouthful of burning liquor.
A scorching heat burned all the way down his throat and into his stomach.
Then.
Lynn's body began to tremble uncontrollably.
He felt as if every muscle in his body was tearing apart.
His skin became scalding hot, as if about to catch fire.
The intense pain almost made Lynn cry out.
But he gritted his teeth firmly.
Sweat instantly soaked his clothes.
"My Lord, what's wrong?"
Torren noticed something was amiss and ran over quickly.
He saw Lynn's face flushed red, his whole body shaking, veins bulging on his forehead.
"I'm fine."
Lynn squeezed three words through his teeth.
The violent heat rampaged through his body.
After about a quarter of an hour.
The burning pain gradually receded.
Replacing it was a sensation of overflowing power.
Lynn could feel that every muscle in his body now contained explosive strength.
And just then.
A voice only he could hear rang in his mind.
> [Consumed Old Gods' blessed item: Frostheart. Your physical constitution has been permanently enhanced. Further consumption of Frostheart is ineffective. Please find other blessed items.]
> [Strength: 5 (4%) → 6 (28%)]
"Is this the 'blessed item' the system mentioned?"
"Another way to increase attribute points!"
Lynn exhaled a puff of white breath slowly.
He opened his palm, then clenched it tight.
Crack.
A series of crisp pops came from his knuckles.
A surging sense of power transmitted from his palm.
This place was indeed a treasure trove.