The night deepened.
Most of Winterfell had fallen into silence. Only the footsteps of patrolling guards echoed in the empty courtyard, along with the occasional whinny from the stables.
Lynn's room was on one side of the main keep, near the kitchens. The flames in the hearth had shrunk to a small clump of dark red embers, barely chasing away the chill in the room.
Lynn sat cross-legged on the bed. The longsword Ned Stark had bestowed upon him lay across his knees. He wasn't sleeping. He was waiting.
Knock, knock-knock.
A tapping sound, so faint it was almost inaudible, sounded on the wooden door. Lynn opened his eyes, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly. He got off the bed and slid back the bolt.
A small figure slipped through the crack in the door, moving as agilely as a cat. Arya Stark, clutching a wooden practice sword taller than herself, darted into the room. She closed the door behind her and let out a long breath, her face full of the excitement of a successful prank.
"The guards think I'm asleep," Arya whispered triumphantly. She placed the practice sword on the floor and dusted off her hands. Her eyes burned with a desire hotter than the embers in the fireplace.
"Remember our agreement? Teach me."
Lynn didn't waste words. He picked up his own longsword and twirled it in the dim room. The steel cut through the air, emitting a faint hum.
"The Night's Watch swordsmanship has no name," Lynn said, looking at Arya. "It has only one purpose: to kill the enemy in the shortest time possible and keep yourself alive. It isn't pretty. It's even ugly."
Arya nodded vigorously. "I know!"
Lynn cleared a small space in the center of the room. "Watch closely."
He assumed a standard starting stance. Center of gravity low, sword point angled toward the ground. It was a posture that emphasized stability and explosive power to the extreme.
"When an enemy chops at you..." Lynn simulated a blocking motion. He didn't use brute force to meet it head-on but used the angle of the blade to deflect the "imaginary enemy's" attack. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the sword tip thrust out. Simple, vicious, aiming straight for vitals.
"Defense is always preparation for the next attack," Lynn sheathed his sword. "Many wildlings beyond the Wall are taller and stronger than us. If you try to match their strength, the one who dies will be you."
Arya watched unblinkingly. She raised her wooden sword, trying to mimic Lynn's movements.
Lynn interrupted her and handed her his own sword. "Wooden swords are toys for children. Use this!"
Excitement flashed in Arya's eyes. This was the first time she had touched a real sword! This was the real thing Catelyn always forbade her from touching!
Arya took the heavy one-handed sword.
"Hah!" She gave a small shout and thrust the sword out. But her movement looked a bit comical. The heavy sword dragged down her speed.
Lynn picked up Arya's wooden sword to spar with her. When blocking, Arya's thin arms shook from the impact. When thrusting, she lacked sufficient penetrating power.
"It's not right," Arya stopped, frowning in frustration. "I can't deflect the sword like you do."
Lynn looked at her tense little face and trembling arms. He realized that although this set of Night's Watch swordsmanship emphasized technique, its foundation was still built on the strength of an adult male. For Arya, it was still too "heavy."
He had to make adjustments.
Lynn thought for a moment and raised the sword again. This time, his movements changed. He no longer emphasized the solidity of the block, but focused on evasion and agile counterattacks. The blade no longer moved in straight lines with exhausting chops and stabs, but drew light arcs, specifically targeting gaps in the enemy's defense.
Lynn's movements were smaller, faster.
As Lynn immersed himself in conceiving this lighter, more agile swordsmanship tailored for Arya, the familiar blue panel quietly surfaced.
> [Host has drawn inferences from other cases. Strength attribute met, Agility attribute met. Successfully comprehended new skill...]
> [Congratulations Host, obtained new skill: Light Sword (Beginner) 1/10]
Lynn's heart skipped a beat. This "Light Sword" style, born from the Night's Watch swordsmanship but distinctly different, was exactly what he currently lacked.
When facing strength-based opponents, the one-handed sword style he was proud of seemed a bit stretched. He couldn't fight those types by matching strength. He could only drain their stamina through evasion. He just needed to deliver a fatal blow when the opponent was exhausted.
"Try this."
Lynn broke down the prototype of this "Light Sword" into the most basic footwork and thrusts, teaching them to Arya.
Arya's eyes lit up. She raised the iron sword again.
This time, she didn't try to "block." When Lynn tapped Arya's iron sword with the wooden one, she stepped back half a pace with the momentum, and simultaneously, her iron sword slashed toward Lynn's "wrist" from a tricky angle.
"So fast!" Arya cried out in excitement. She felt like a fish in water, free from constraints.
However, this excitement only lasted a moment. When she tried to attack continuously, the problem reappeared. Although the Light Sword didn't require as much strength, it demanded extremely high coordination and precision. Several of Arya's thrusts missed their mark.
She stopped, panting, her small face flushed red.
"Still no good," Arya slumped her shoulders dejectedly. "My sword is too heavy."
She looked at the steel longsword in her hand, then at the wooden lump in Lynn's. She suddenly realized a cruel fact.
"I... I'm a girl," Arya's voice dropped low, carrying a trace of unwillingness. "No matter how I train, my strength won't match Robb's, or Theon's."
She looked up, her grey eyes full of confusion. "This kind of swordsmanship still relies on strength to suppress the opponent in the end, doesn't it?"
Lynn fell silent. Arya's intuition was sharp. Even with "Light Sword," under the battlefield logic of Westeros, ultimate lethality still relied on the strength to pierce armor or shatter bone.
Lynn knew what Arya needed was a completely different fighting style. A swordsmanship that didn't rely on strength, but only on speed and precision.
"You're right, Arya," Lynn patted her head. "You don't need to be the strongest. But you can be the fastest."
Just then, messy footsteps sounded outside the door.
"Over there! I think I heard something!"
It was the night patrol!
Arya's face went pale, and she grabbed Lynn's sleeve. Lynn quickly blew out the oil lamp, plunging the room into darkness. He pulled Arya into the shadows behind the door.
The footsteps got closer and finally stopped at the door. Lynn could clearly hear the guards breathing outside. Arya held her breath in tension, her small hands ice-cold, hugging Lynn tightly. She was two years younger than her sister Sansa, only nine years old now, but she knew she shouldn't be in a man's room at night.
After a long while.
"Must have heard wrong. Let's go," another guard mumbled. "Damn weather, even the wind sounds like ghosts."
The footsteps faded away.
Lynn and Arya looked at each other in the darkness and breathed a sigh of relief simultaneously.
"I should go back," Arya's voice trembled slightly. "Tomorrow... can I come back tomorrow night?"
"Be careful," Lynn helped her tidy her messy hair. "There are many eyes in the castle these days; the King's caravan is arriving soon."
Arya nodded vigorously and disappeared silently at the end of the corridor like a little deer.
Lynn closed the door and re-lit a candle. He looked at the longsword in his hand, then at the [Light Sword (Beginner) 1/10] on the system panel. Although Arya hadn't learned it, he had gained a lot.
Lynn knew he needed to improve his strength as soon as possible. The arrival of the King meant the center of the storm had shifted to Winterfell. And he was already in the eye of the storm.