The clamor of the Great Hall had long since faded.
Only the sporadic clinking of cups and plates remained as the servants cleaned up the mess.
The night wind squeezed through the cracks in the window, leaving Lynn's room in dead silence. He hadn't lit a lamp. Moonlight filtered through the narrow window, casting a cold, bright patch on the floor.
He sat cross-legged on his bed, the longsword resting across his knees. The touch of the cold steel kept his mind absolutely clear.
He was waiting.
If his timing was right, Lysa's secret letter had already been delivered to Catelyn by raven. The fate of everyone in the castle was beginning to slide toward its destined track.
And he, Lynn, had finally transformed from a bystander into an inconspicuous piece on the board. Perhaps even a piece with the power to change the outcome of the game.
Tap, tap-tap.
A knock sounded on the door—extremely soft, cautious even.
Lynn opened his eyes in the darkness without a hint of surprise.
Sure enough. The people who were meant to come had arrived.
Lynn got off the bed, his bare feet stepping onto the cold stone floor, and slid back the bolt.
Two people stood outside.
Maester Luwin held a lantern that flickered in the wind. His usually calm face was now written with gravity. In the shadows behind him stood a taller, more imposing figure.
Eddard Stark.
The arrival of the Warden of the North instantly made the small room feel oppressive.
Lynn stepped aside to let them in.
Ned ducked through the low doorframe. He didn't look at Lynn; his gaze swept over the simple furnishings of the room before finally landing on the longsword resting on the bed.
Maester Luwin closed the door behind him, completely shutting out the cold wind.
"It is late to disturb your rest," Maester Luwin said. His voice, like the man himself, was dry, cautious, and polite.
"My Lord." Lynn respectfully pointed to the only chair in the room.
Ned didn't sit. He just stood there, radiating an aura colder than the winter night outside.
From his wide sleeves, Maester Luwin pulled out a tiny scroll of parchment tied with thin thread. It was pitifully small, almost entirely hidden in his palm.
"A letter from the Eyrie," Luwin said, untying the thread with slow, solemn movements. "It was sent through secret channels. Lady Stark has decoded the hidden message."
He unrolled the parchment and held it close to the lantern light. The dim yellow glow illuminated the unease in his eyes.
"It is from Lady Lysa... Lord Jon Arryn's widow, and Lady Catelyn's sister."
Only Luwin's raspy voice echoed in the room.
"She says Jon Arryn did not die of illness."
Luwin looked up at Lynn.
"He... was indeed murdered."
Fire burned in Ned's grey eyes.
"The Lannisters did it," Ned said. "The Lannisters. My most respected foster father, died by murder!"
Ned's voice sounded like it was squeezed through clenched teeth, every word dripping with hatred. That suppressed rage, like a volcano about to erupt, made the air in the room feel scorching hot.
"I'm surrounded by vipers..."
Ned remembered what Robert had said in the crypts. He remembered Cersei's beautiful but cold face. He remembered the mockery always present in Jaime Lannister's eyes.
The prophecy. The warning. Now, it had all turned into bloody reality.
Ned looked sharply at Lynn.
That gaze no longer held any suspicion or scrutiny. There was only the pain of verified truth, and the desperation of a man grasping at the last straw.
"The prophecies you spoke of have all become reality," Ned said. "What should we do now?"
Maester Luwin also looked at Lynn. For the first time, this learned elder showed awe and fear of the unknown in his eyes. Prophecy—a legendary ability. And its wielder was standing right in front of him!
Meeting their gazes, Lynn's expression was terrifyingly calm. He tossed the secret letter from Luwin's hand into the fireplace.
"My Lord, you still need to go to King's Landing."
"What?"
Ned almost thought he heard wrong. "Go to King's Landing? To that den of wolves and lions that killed my father? How is that different from suicide?"
"Exactly because of that, you must go South, my Lord," Lynn looked at Ned, speaking word by word.
"The Hand of the King, the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms, died in his own bed. And the murderer is likely the one sharing the King's pillow."
"You know better than I do how dangerous King Robert's situation is."
"He trusts you. He needs you."
"At a time like this, other than you, who in the Seven Kingdoms would dare go to King's Landing to pull out the vipers coiling beneath the throne for him?"
"My Lord, you swore an oath of loyalty to your King."
Lynn's words precisely dissected Ned Stark's heart.
Honor. Duty. Loyalty to a sworn brother. These things were carved into his bones, part of his very life.
Ned's breathing grew heavy. He clenched his fists.
But whenever a Stark went South, it never ended well. His father and brother answered the Mad King's summons and were tortured to death. The previous Hand had died from a conspiracy. If he became the new Hand, he would inevitably become a target for everyone.
Lynn watched him quietly. He watched the King in the North struggle painfully between loyalty and danger.
In Lynn's mind, however, a more calculated scheme was unfolding.
Ned Stark going to King's Landing was inevitable. Even if Ned didn't want to go, Lynn would find a way to make him.
This wasn't Lynn deliberately sending Ned to his death. As long as Ned was willing to put aside his rigid honor... as long as he was willing to deal with Southern conspiracies using Northern methods...
Then, Lynn could guarantee it.
There were too many opportunities in King's Landing. Enough opportunities... to let a Direwolf sit on that Iron Throne made of swords as the Lord Regent.
Although the process might be challenging, having transmigrated and possessing a System to enhance his martial prowess, Lynn didn't fear the risk.
And House Stark would be his most important stepping stone, a safe harbor for his early development. Relying on others was never as good as being in charge oneself. His goal had always been the Iron Throne!
A flash of heat, unnoticed even by himself, passed through Lynn's eyes. He was going to play this game. And he was going to win.
The Wolf family was the fastest route Lynn could access to reach supreme power.
Publicly, Ned was a genuinely good man, a man who got things done. Privately, considering his connection with Arya Stark, Ned was his future father-in-law. As long as the Starks were willing to support him, he didn't mind sharing the spoils with them.
And he had the System. As long as he had time to grow and become stronger, then—aside from dragons and the Night King—Lynn wouldn't fear any living creature!
"I understand," Ned said slowly after a long silence.
The struggle and anger in his eyes had faded, replaced by the resolve of a man walking into danger.
"I will go to King's Landing. I will find the truth and avenge my foster father."
Maester Luwin opened his mouth. He actually wanted Ned to go South too, but knowing it was a lion's den, he worried for his Lord's safety. In the end, he could only let out a helpless sigh.
Ned gave Lynn a deep look.
"You have done well. After you visit the Wall, come to King's Landing. I will be waiting for you there."
With that, Ned lingered no longer. He turned, opened the door, and his tall figure quickly vanished into the night.
Maester Luwin placed the lantern on the table and bowed solemnly to Lynn.
"House Stark owes you a debt."
With that, the old Maester followed his Lord out.
The room returned to silence.
Lynn walked to the window and pushed it open. The cold night wind rushed in, blowing away the stuffiness in the room.
Lynn looked at the waning moon in the distance. His hand unconsciously clenched into a fist, and he slowly exhaled a breath of white mist.
The game had officially begun.
Jon Arryn died from a conspiracy between Cersei and Littlefinger, and Lysa Tully—Arryn's wife—was still entangled with Littlefinger, ultimately poisoning her husband.
Simply put, Catelyn's sister Lysa wasn't just Arryn's wife; she was also Littlefinger Baelish's lover. But the one Littlefinger truly loved was Ned's wife, Catelyn.
A bizarre love polygon.
Lynn couldn't tell Ned right now that it was Littlefinger who plotted to poison Arryn. Ned already despised Littlefinger; if he knew this, he would likely kill Baelish on sight.
And since Baelish was a hidden player outside the four main factions, Lynn didn't want him offline just yet.
Baelish thought his scheming was at its peak, unaware that there was a "cheat player" who had already seen the script and knew the ending. All of Baelish's secret manipulations were, to Lynn, like playing cards with an open hand!
Furthermore, Lynn didn't intend to drag Baelish out immediately. Baelish posed no threat to Lynn personally. He needed Baelish to continue muddying the waters so that Lynn could reap the spoils.
As long as he could crush Baelish's plots against the Starks, an anxious Baelish would certainly stir up conflict between the Stags and the Lions.
And that was exactly what Lynn hoped for.