"Do you blame your father for throwing you into this place?" Lynn pointed at Gelan.
"He was only three years old when his father abandoned him outside the farm to fend for himself."
Lynn's gaze swept over the others.
"Pypar stole a piece of cheese because his sister hadn't eaten for three days. If he didn't want his hand chopped off, he had to come to Castle Black and join the Night's Watch."
Gelan and Pypar both stared at Lynn, seemingly not understanding how Lynn knew about their past deeds.
Seeing Lynn seemingly defending these two small men, Jon also grew anxious.
"They hate me!"
"Because they couldn't beat me, they used such a despicable method to ambush me!"
Lynn nodded.
"Yes, you are indeed more excellent than them."
"Not everyone has the opportunity to receive sword instruction directly from Ser Rodrik."
"I can guarantee that neither of them had touched a proper real sword before coming here."
"Do you still think you are more excellent than them?"
Jon was stunned.
If that were the case, he had only defeated a few commoners, so what was there to be proud or arrogant about?
Moreover, most of the Night's Watch members who came here had their own unspoken difficulties.
They didn't seem as unbearable as he had imagined.
Watching Jon fall into thought, Lynn knew that Jon understood.
Instead of being at odds with his brothers, it would be better to let go of his prejudices and integrate among them.
Only then could Jon truly get along with these people.
It was better than constantly shouting about fighting and killing.
Having helped Jon resolve his interpersonal issues, Lynn could now accept the 'longclaw' passed down from the Old Bear with a clear conscience.
Lynn patted Jon's shoulder, then pointed at Gelan and the other man, who were staring at each other.
"Teach them the sword fighting techniques you learned from Rodrik, guide them. I believe you will soon have a group of good friends."
Tyrion folded his arms, a look of almost admiration shining in his mismatched eyes.
He looked at Lynn.
"You are truly interesting."
Tyrion's voice broke the stagnant air.
"Lynn, you should be a High Septon of the Seven Gods, not staying in this icy, snowy, ghostly place."
Lynn ignored his teasing.
His gaze remained on Jon.
Jon lowered his head, his face flushing red then pale.
He had always thought that by coming to The Wall, he had given up everything of the Stark.
But now he realized that he had never truly let go.
Gelan and Pypar also lowered their heads, not daring to look at Lynn.
The resentment in their hearts had largely dissipated after Lynn spoke those words of understanding.
"Let's go."
Lynn patted Jon's shoulder.
Jon nodded silently… "My Lord, a raven from Winterfell."
A Night's Watch member respectfully handed a small roll of parchment to Lord Commander Mormont.
The Old Bear unrolled the parchment and held it to the firelight of the fireplace.
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 already walk with a cane."
Benjen's face instantly lit up with wild joy.
"The Old Gods be praised!"
Maester Aemon also smiled.
Though he couldn't see, he could feel the joyful atmosphere in the room.
When Jon heard the news, his body trembled violently.
Bran… his younger brother who always followed him, dreaming of becoming a knight.
His younger brother who fell from the tower and lay unconscious.
He could actually walk again?
An indescribable surge of euphoria instantly washed away the gloom that had accumulated in Jon's heart recently.
He abruptly stood up, wanting to find someone to share this joy with.
But he looked around and saw only blank or indifferent faces.
His joy, here, no one could understand.
Jon's heart sank again.
He thought of Bran, of Robb, of Arya and Rickon.
He thought of the warm fireplace in Winterfell and the smiling faces of his family.
He picked up his goblet and drained the remaining ale.
The cold liquid slid down his throat.
"Drinking alone is not a good habit."
Tyrion had sat down opposite him at some point.
He poured himself a drink and refilled Jon's empty goblet.
"To Bran Stark."
Tyrion raised his goblet.
Jon glanced at him, said nothing, but simply raised his goblet and clinked it against his.
"Clink."
The crisp sound was unremarkable in the noisy dining hall.
"You don't seem very happy."
Tyrion took a sip of his drink.
"Your brother can walk again, isn't that wonderful news?"
"I…"
Jon opened his mouth but didn't know what to say.
He was happy.
But he was even more guilty.
When his family needed him most, he had come to the end of the world.
Tyrion seemed to read his thoughts.
"Do you blame your father?"
Jon shook his head.
"Then do you blame yourself?"
Jon fell silent.
Tyrion put down his goblet, pulled a wax-sealed envelope from his pocket, and pushed it across to Jon.
"What is this?"
"Some boring advice."
Tyrion shrugged.
"About 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 so quick to refuse."
"Perhaps one day, you will need it."
With that, he swayed away with his goblet, leaving Jon alone, staring blankly at the letter… The night deepened.
Jon found Lynn, who was wiping his longclaw.
In Lynn's room, Toren and several other Guards were helping him pack his gear.
Arrows, dried rations, waterskins.
They were to set off for beyond The Wall first thing in the morning.
"Lynn."
Jon stood at the doorway, his voice hesitant.
Lynn looked up.
"Something wrong?"
"Will you… pass by Winterfell on your way to King's Landing?"
Lynn paused his wiping of the longclaw.
He looked at Jon's eyes, which were full of anticipation, and nodded.
"Of course."
"Then… could you please… help me…"
Jon's lips moved, but the rest of his words seemed stuck in his throat.
"Help me deliver a message to Bran."
His voice held a barely perceptible tremor.
"Tell him I think of him every day."
"Tell him… to be strong."
Lynn stood up and walked over to Jon.
He said nothing, only reached out and patted Jon's shoulder heavily.
"I will."
Those two simple words instantly reddened Jon's eyes.
He nodded vigorously and turned to leave quickly.
Lynn watched his retreating figure until he disappeared at the end of the corridor.
"My Lord."
Toren's voice brought Lynn's thoughts back.
"Everything is ready."
Lynn withdrew his gaze.
Thinking of how these Northmen favored close combat, always charging forward recklessly, in a do-or-die manner, Lynn felt a headache coming on.
It seemed necessary to give them a heads-up first.
Lynn walked to the map, his finger tracing across it.
"Our target is this area."
His finger stopped on a marked place called the "Haunted Forest."
"Lord Commander Mormont said there have been many wildlings active here recently."
"Listen up, always remember, do not charge blindly."
Lynn's gaze swept over every Guards in the room.
"Wildlings are much stronger than most of you. You need to use your brains more, don't just rush in and fight them to the death."
"Utilize our advantage of being more cunning than the wildlings to achieve the greatest results with the smallest cost."
"Use poison, use traps, use arrows, use every available means."
"I don't want to see any of you lose your lives to those wildlings."
Although this was somewhat un-Northern, who wouldn't want to stay alive?
"Yes, My Lord!"
In the room, a uniform, muffled roar of suppressed excitement rang out.
Other Lords always taught them empty words about honor, bravery, and sacrifice.
But Lord Lynn, he seemed a little different from the other Lords.
Lynn nodded and walked to the window.
He pushed the window open.
The cold night wind, mixed with snowflakes, assailed him.
In the distance, The Wall, stretching across the sky and earth, lay like a sleeping white giant dragon under the moonlight..
And on the other side of the giant dragon.
In the endless darkness, countless experience points awaited him.
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