When Lynn returned, he had been searched. He carried only his clothes and a standard-issue Northern longsword. No coin. No silver stags.
The guards knew this.
With no money on his person and no leave to venture beyond the Wall to trade, where did these silver stags come from?
Did he steal them from Wildlings?
But what use do Wildlings have for silver stags?
The conclusion was obvious.
These coins had indeed come from the assassin.
Bowen Marsh felt a sheen of cold sweat break out on his forehead. His beady eyes darted around, afraid to meet anyone's gaze.
As the First Steward of Castle Black, he held the keys to the castle's coffers. Every sack of grain bought, every copper penny spent, was recorded in his thick ledgers.
He remembered it clearly.
Not long ago, Alliser Thorne had requested a small bag of silver from him, citing the need to purchase "special whetstones from the south for weapon maintenance."
At the time, Bowen hadn't thought much of it.
Although Thorne was a bitter man with few friends, he was still the Master-at-Arms, and an anointed knight. There was no reason to refuse such a minor request.
But now...
Looking at the silver scattered on the snow, and hearing the accusations from Pyp and Grenn...
And remembering that Thorne had never returned with any whetstones.
Bowen Marsh's heart sank to his boots.
He knew he had been dragged into a catastrophe.
"Steward Marsh?"
Lynn's voice pulled him back from his panicked thoughts.
"Does it ring a bell?"
Bowen Marsh's face went from red to white.
He stole a glance at Lord Commander Mormont's darkening face, then at Lynn's icy stare. Finally, his eyes landed on Alliser Thorne's twisted, desperate expression.
He knew he had to make a choice.
Protect a doomed Thorne and offend the two most powerful men in the castle?
Or... speak the truth?
It wasn't even a choice.
"I... I remember," Bowen Marsh said, wiping the sweat from his brow, his voice dry.
"On the very day... on the day Lord Lynn was attacked."
"Ser Alliser did indeed draw twenty silver stags from the treasury."
"The reason given was... to purchase whetstones."
The words were the final nail in the coffin. They crushed Alliser Thorne completely.
"You... you fat sow! You dare betray me!"
Thorne let out a desperate roar.
He tried to lunge forward to tear Bowen Marsh's face off, but Torrhen and Jason's swords blocked him once more.
"Thorne!"
Lord Commander Mormont's voice was devoid of warmth.
"What do you have to say?"
"No... it wasn't me! It's them! They're all conspiring to frame me!" Thorne was still making his final, futile struggle. But his voice sounded hollow and weak.
"Frame you?" Lynn scoffed.
"Ser Alliser, do you take everyone for a fool?"
"You incited infighting among the recruits. That is a fact."
"You hired an assassin to remove me, a thorn in your side. That is also a fact."
"You even planned to blame the Wildlings to cover your tracks. That is undeniable!"
Every sentence Lynn spoke smashed Thorne's petty schemes to dust.
"I ask you."
Lynn stared daggers at Thorne.
"Why did you do it?"
"Just because I stood up to you?"
"Just because I made you lose face in front of the men?"
"Or is it..."
Lynn's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.
"...that you aren't one of us at all?"
The question stunned everyone.
Not one of us?
What does that mean?
Even Lord Commander Mormont looked confused.
Only Alliser Thorne reacted with sheer terror. The moment he heard those words, his pupils constricted to pinpoints.
Genuine fear washed over his face.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Thorne shrieked.
Lynn smiled.
He turned and bowed slightly to the Lord Commander.
"Lord Commander, permission to ask Ser Alliser a few questions."
Mormont looked into Lynn's deep eyes and nodded.
"Ask. I will see justice done."
Lynn turned back to Thorne.
"Ser Alliser, I hear..."
"That before you took the black, you were a staunch loyalist of House Targaryen. Is that correct?"
Thorne's face turned an ugly shade of gray.
It was the past he hated to revisit. During Robert's Rebellion, he had fought on the losing side. After the war, he was given the choice: the Wall or the block.
It was a profound humiliation.
The Night's Watch stripped a man of his lands and titles, yet it still recognized the honor of knighthood. That was why he clung so desperately to the title of "Ser."
"So what?" Thorne gritted his teeth.
"What does the past have to do with now?"
"It has everything to do with now!"
Lynn's voice grew even colder.
"I hear you have always harbored a deep resentment toward King Robert Baratheon and his friend, Lord Eddard Stark."
"You lie!"
"Do I?"
Lynn shook his head.
"It is known that in your cups, you often curse them with the vilest language. You call Robert a usurping butcher and Ned Stark a treacherous hypocrite. Do you deny it?"
Murmurs rippled through the gathered brothers.
It was true. Thorne's loose tongue was infamous at Castle Black. When the wine was in, the treason came out. Everyone was used to it; no one took a drunkard's ramblings seriously.
But now, with Lynn presenting it in this light, it took on a sinister weight.
"Let me ask you this."
Lynn's gaze sharpened.
"Since the wights appeared, your behavior has been erratic."
"Did you think that the rise of the White Walkers and the wights, while a disaster for the Night's Watch..."
"...was an opportunity for you?"
"An opportunity... for a Targaryen restoration?"
"If the Wall falls, if the Seven Kingdoms descend into chaos, if the army of the dead marches south..."
"Then those Targaryen remnants hiding across the Narrow Sea might seize the chance to return and reclaim their Iron Throne."
"And you, Ser Alliser Thorne, as the Targaryens' most loyal dog, would suddenly become a founding hero of the new dynasty?"
Lynn's words exploded in everyone's minds like a thunderclap!
They looked at Lynn as if he were mad.
This... this is a stretch, surely?
Linking a White Walker invasion to a Targaryen restoration?
It sounded like a fantasy.
Even Mormont felt Lynn's deduction was a bit... extravagant.
However, Alliser Thorne's reaction made everyone's jaw drop.
He didn't argue.
He didn't roar.
He just stood there, staring blankly, his entire body trembling violently.
He looked at Lynn with more fear than he would a wight.
He... how does he know?
How does he know the darkest secret of my heart?
Can he truly see into men's souls?
Or is he...
A terrifying thought surfaced in Thorne's mind.
Is he truly a messenger sent by the Old Gods? An all-knowing, all-powerful prophet?
Of course, Lynn didn't actually know if Thorne harbored such grand designs. He was simply using his knowledge of Thorne's past to construct the most damning narrative possible.
Lynn needed to pin a crime on Thorne—even a fabricated one—that would justify executing this venomous snake in broad daylight.
He hadn't expected his guess to hit the mark so precisely.
It was a lucky shot.
Thump.
Alliser Thorne, the proud knight, the Master-at-Arms of Castle Black.
His legs gave way, and he fell to his knees in the snow.
His psychological defenses had been utterly shattered by Lynn's piercing words.
---