Lynn pushed open the heavy oak doors of the banquet hall.
A wave of heat—a wall of roasted meat grease, spilled ale, and sweat mixed with lute music and boisterous voices—hit him square in the face.
The hall was as bright as day.
Hundreds of tallow candles burned on antler chandeliers, casting flickering light across the room.
Flames roared in the hearth, painting the lords’ booze-flushed faces in a ferocious glow.
King Robert was already dead drunk.
He had his arm draped around a buxom maid, slurring as he bragged about his youth and glory at the Trident.
Queen Cersei watched from the side, a cold, mocking smirk on her lips.
Beside her sat Catelyn, looking entirely unamused.
Lynn’s eyes swept quickly through the crowd.
Soon enough, he found his targets near a hearth at the side of the hall.
Ned Stark and Benjen Stark.
The two brothers were taking no part in the wild revelry around them.
They simply stood in the shadows, talking in low voices.
Ned’s face bore a look of fatigue and anxiety he could not hide.
As for Benjen, the First Ranger still radiated a chill straight from the Wall, even in this warm, crowded hall.
Lynn walked straight toward them through the noisy crowd.
“My Lord,” Lynn said softly.
Benjen turned.
His sharp, falcon-like eyes rested on Lynn for a long moment.
“I was just telling Ned about you,” Benjen said, his tone surprisingly gentle.
He turned back to his elder brother.
“Ned, this boy isn’t a deserter.” Ned Stark remained silent.
Complex emotions flickered through his gray eyes.
He looked at Lynn, as though waiting for an explanation.
“Everyone on the Wall says he fled to avoid punishment,” Benjen continued, his voice carrying the rasp unique to men of the North.
“But I saw him fight wildlings with my own eyes.” “He was lying in the snow with three dead wildlings beside him.” “A coward couldn’t have pulled that off.” Ned nodded.
“A few days ago, he fought off a gang of bandits and killed six of them single-handedly.
He’s certainly proven his mettle.” Benjen shifted his gaze back to Ned.
“Ned.” “When I brought my patrol back through the Haunted Forest this time, I found something.” “Something…
that shouldn’t exist.” Even amid the noisy feast, Benjen intentionally kept his voice hushed.
“White Walkers.” The two words made Ned’s pupils contract instantly.
He whipped his head around to stare at Lynn.
Lynn’s prophecy and Benjen’s eyewitness account merged seamlessly at this moment.
It was no longer Lynn’s wild babble.
It was a warning from beyond the Wall.
For a second, Ned stopped breathing.
He recalled that clear morning.
He recalled holding the Valyrian steel greatsword, Ice, right against this young man’s neck.
The cold blade had already broken his skin.
If he had applied just a fraction more force, a head would have rolled into the snow.
He would have ended this crow who brought an ill-omened prophecy with his own hands, executing him just like any other deserter.
Yet he had hesitated in the end.
Now it seemed that very hesitation had saved the young man’s life.
And perhaps, it had saved the entire North.
Ned’s last remaining doubts were utterly dispelled.
An indescribable surge of emotion rose from the depths of his heart.
It wasn’t simple trust.
It was relief.
He was relieved that anger and prejudice hadn’t blinded his eyes.
He was relieved that he had ultimately chosen to believe in that one-in-a-thousand chance.
The tight line of Ned’s jaw slowly relaxed.
He looked at Lynn, all scrutiny and suspicion fading from his gray eyes, leaving behind a deep, complex expression that bordered on approval.
“The Night’s Watch truly needs warriors like you,” Ned said at last, his voice low and heavy.
“But the North needs you more right now.” The words struck Lynn’s mind like a bolt of thunder.
He was no longer a prisoner waiting to be returned to the Wall.
He was no longer a deserter relying on prophecies just to survive.
Ned Stark’s words had bestowed a new identity upon him.
He was now one of their own—recognized and kept close by the Warden of the North.
Benjen looked at his brother.
“Ned, the Night’s Watch has its own rules…” Ned understood what Benjen meant, but he made no excuses.
“I know this goes against your rules.” “If anyone who breaks the law can join the Night’s Watch, break their oath, and leave whenever they want, then the oath becomes a farce.
What rules would we have left?” “But Lynn possesses prophecies from the Old Gods, and I need his help.” “Benjen, if things turn out as he says, the North will inevitably enter a period of upheaval.
This concerns the safety of the entire realm.” “If the North falls, who will supply the Night’s Watch?
Those southern lords?” Benjen gave Ned a surprised look.
This was the first time he had ever seen Ned act like this.
In his memory, his brother had always been unyieldingly righteous.
After not seeing him for a few months, he had changed quite a bit.
At least, Benjen considered it a good thing.
House Stark needed sharper minds, not a pack of stubborn mules.
Indeed, most of the supplies for the Night’s Watch came from House Stark.
If House Stark fell, the Night’s Watch would fall as well.
They stood and fell together.
Benjen smiled and nodded, offering no further resistance.
“I will explain the matter to the Lord Commander.” “You are my brother, after all, and Lord Commander Mormont understands the stakes.
He will agree to it.” Ned hesitated for a moment before adding, “If he really cannot be released from his oath, then let him head south while retaining his status as a brother of the Night’s Watch.
That way, he won’t be breaking his vow.” Benjen chuckled.
“I’ll try to discharge Lynn from the Watch first.
If the Lord Commander reacts too strongly, your idea will serve as a fine backup.” Ned relaxed.
“Very good.
We will do it that way, then.” Ned turned back to Lynn, as if awaiting his response.
“I understand, My Lord.” Lynn lowered his eyes, concealing the sharp gleam that flickered across them.
Benjen clapped Lynn firmly on the shoulder.
“Work hard, lad.” “Don’t bring shame to the Night’s Watch.” With that, Benjen raised his goblet and drained it in one gulp.
“I don’t belong at a feast like this.
Tomorrow, I’ll talk to you about Jon.” “I’m going down to the cellar for a bit.” Benjen gave Ned a nod, turned, and left the banquet hall.
Beside the hearth, only Ned and Lynn remained.
The fire crackled, casting their long shadows against the stone wall behind them.
“The King wants me to head south to King’s Landing and take Jon Arryn’s place.” Ned’s voice carried a tinge of weariness.
He was not asking for advice; he was merely stating a fact.
“You will accept, My Lord,” Lynn said calmly.
Ned showed no surprise.
He stared at Lynn and asked suddenly, “You said before that all of this was the start of a tragedy.” “What else did you see?” Lynn raised his head and met Ned’s gaze.
He knew that the real show was about to begin.