Game of Thrones: Knight’s Honor

It had been almost a month since the Dragon Communion Ritual had taken place. Lynd had returned to Tumbleton from Summerhall more than ten days ago and had spent every day since then either fishing on the Mander River or training Brienne and Asha.

He left everything else in his territory to his subordinates. Jon had been sent to Miracle Harbor as steward, while Scar-Eyed Mitt became the commander of the garrison there. Lys, the former financial officer, was transferred to Summerhall as steward, and Raul, his adjutant, took on the role of commander of the garrison in Summerhall.

In addition, Bryn Rivers was assigned to oversee the construction of Red Watch Castle and Red Watch Mountain Road in the Red Watch Valley. To ensure everything proceeded smoothly, Lynd had also borrowed Maester Yves from Nymeria to assist Bryn Rivers.

Lynd established an additional governing body similar to the Small Council, but it operated more like an ancient cabinet or a military affairs office from a bygone era, with Malora at its center.

He recruited a significant number of capable wandering maesters and down-on-their-luck nobles to fill its ranks. While political matters involving other territories and the Iron Throne remained his responsibility, most internal affairs were entrusted to this small cabinet.

Additionally, he recruited a group of Maesters and Assistant Maesters from the Citadel who specialized in law. They formed a traveling court alongside Septons of the Faith of the Seven, moving between cities and villages to adjudicate local disputes. Only serious crimes, such as murder, were escalated to Lynd for judgment.

Most lords spent their days seated in their castle halls, listening to the grievances of their vassals and ruling on petty disputes. In contrast, Lynd's itinerant court significantly reduced the burden of such trivial matters. Moreover, it was a system difficult for other lords to replicate—few would willingly surrender their judicial authority to the church, let alone to a Maester. The right to judge was among the most fundamental powers of a lord, a key expression of their authority.

However, Lynd was different. He could derive prestige from other sources and wielded a divine presence that rendered the conventional symbols of lordship insignificant to him. He had no need to cling to judicial authority.

Yet, his vassals' diligence was not solely out of duty. Many worked hard to create more opportunities for Lynd and Nymeria to be alone together.

To them, an heir was of utmost importance, despite the fact that both Lynd and Nymeria were still young.

Lynd and Nymeria had shared a room for two years, and whenever they were together, they were almost always intimate. Still, nothing had come of it, which left the advisers of the territory increasingly anxious.

Malora and Qyburn examined them both and concluded that Lynd's body was too powerful—or more precisely, that his bloodline was too dominant—completely suppressing Nymeria and preventing her from conceiving.

Malora proposed two possible solutions. One was to bleed Lynd, weakening him to a level closer to Nymeria's. The other was to increase the frequency of intercourse, as conception would become more likely over time.

When Lynd established the cabinet, everyone had supported the idea—except Malora. However, after he promised to find a suitable replacement for her as soon as possible, she emerged from her laboratory and temporarily assumed the role of head of the cabinet.

With his various responsibilities delegated, Lynd remained in Tumbleton, living a leisurely and carefree life.

"You've been living too carefree lately!" Nymeria exclaimed as she arrived by boat, stepping onto Lynd's vessel, which was anchored in the middle of the river.

By now, his fishing on the Mander had become a well-known sight in Tumbleton. His boat always seemed to remain stationary in the middle of the river, unaffected by the upstream current. The townspeople had come to view this as yet another of Lynd's miracles, with rumors spreading that after mastering Storm and Thunder, he had also gained dominion over the river itself.

Lynd smiled and replied, "Really? It may look like I'm just relaxing, but I'm actually training."

And indeed, he was.

What he was training was his control over the power of the Dragon Rune.

Since the Dragon Communion Ritual a month ago, his physical attributes had further improved—his strength and speed had increased—but the most profound change was that the Dragon Rune had fused with his heart, becoming a part of him. This granted him direct access to the extraordinary power of the Dragon Rune.

Previously, he had to invoke the Dragon Rune on either the Dragon Rune Necklace or the Sword of the Banished Knight to use its supernatural abilities. Now, however, he could channel the Dragon Rune's power directly from his heart, enabling him to perform extraordinary feats—such as using sheer mental control to keep his boat fixed in place on the river's surface, unmoved by the current.

At the same time, he could feel that the Dragon Rune had accumulated a great amount of scorching power within it. He sensed that once he fully mastered its control, he might be able to unleash this energy.

By then, he might even be able to breathe fire like a dragon. After all, some of the Forbidden Prayer Spells of the Banished Knight possessed abilities similar to dragon's breath—not just fire, but also frost, storm, and lightning.

Although the Dragon Communion Ritual had granted Lynd even greater power, he was somewhat disappointed that the progress bar for his Cheat had not changed as a result of the ritual. It remained exactly the same as before.

Still, he was not in a hurry. He had plenty of time to experiment and discover a way to accelerate its progression.

"I think your days of leisure are over," Nymeria said as she took out a letter and handed it to Lynd. "It's from Highgarden."

Lynd paused for a moment before taking the letter, opening it, and reading its contents. With a hint of suspicion, he said, "Lord Willas wants me to assist Lord Vortimer and Joel Flowers in transporting a group of criminals to The Wall as Night's Watchmen."

Nymeria raised an eyebrow slightly. "It seems the incident had a significant impact if they're going as far as to involve you in escorting prisoners."

Lynd nodded gravely in agreement.

Three months ago, Willas had gathered a group of around two hundred death row inmates to send them to The Wall as recruits for the Night's Watch. This was not the first time he had done so; previous efforts had gone smoothly.

In fact, Willas had become one of the Night's Watch's most valued allies. Lord Commander Qorgyle had even personally sent a letter of gratitude to Highgarden, along with rare and remarkable gifts from beyond The Wall—items never seen in the South. Among these were a complete mammoth skeleton and the head of a giant, both of which had caused quite a stir in Highgarden.

Everyone had assumed this escort would be routine. No one expected anything to go wrong. But the unexpected happened—not because of Highgarden, but because of the very Night's Watchmen assigned to oversee the transport.

As the procession neared Harroway, the black-clad escorts suddenly turned on the Highgarden soldiers.

The attack came without warning. One moment, the soldiers had been drinking and eating alongside their supposed allies; the next, they were cut down, utterly defenseless in the first wave of slaughter.

After securing the prisoners, the renegade Night's Watch led them to Saltpans, where they looted a vast amount of wealth and stole several ships used for transporting salt. They then set sail along the coast, passing through the Bay of Crabs and vanishing into the Narrow Sea. If nothing had gone wrong, they were likely already across the sea by now.

The chaos caused by the incident was immense. As a direct consequence, the Riverlands, the Vale, and several other regions banned entry to black-clad men, preventing the Night's Watch from recruiting south of the Neck. With no alternative, Willas had to arrange for his own people to personally transport the condemned prisoners to The Wall.

"He's making a big deal out of nothing. Isn't it enough to send Lords Vortimer and Joel to escort them?" Nymeria asked, somewhat puzzled.

Lynd froze for a moment, then fell into contemplation. After a while, he said, "Perhaps they aren't sending me just to escort the prisoners to The Wall, but for some other matter."

"Other matter?" Nymeria took the letter from Lynd's hands, scanning its contents. "It doesn't mention anything else."

As soon as she finished speaking, an eagle's cry echoed in the sky. A white-feathered sea eagle with a red crown descended gracefully, landing on the edge of Lynd's boat.

The eagle let out two sharp cries at Lynd before shaking the small cloth bag tied to its foot.

"Lord Willas?" Seeing this peculiar sea eagle, Lynd immediately thought of Howland Reed using ravens to deliver messages.

The sea eagle's eyes flashed with a look of surprise, as though taken aback that Lynd had recognized its purpose. Then it called out twice more and nodded.

Without hesitation, Lynd reached out and untied the cloth bag from the eagle's foot.

As soon as the bag was removed, the eagle did not linger. With a powerful flap of its wings, it soared back into the sky and disappeared.

"Is Lord Willas a Skinchanger?" Nymeria asked in surprise, having witnessed the entire scene.

"Maybe," Lynd replied, though he suspected that Willas's abilities were stronger than those of an ordinary Skinchanger—perhaps comparable to those of a Greenseer.

Lynd took out a folded piece of letter paper from the cloth bag, carefully unfolding it and reading its contents. His expression grew serious as he absorbed the message.

After he finished, Nymeria took the letter from his hands and read it thoroughly. Unable to hold back, she scoffed, "He actually wants you to go north of The Wall to the Land of Always Winter to find some kind of horn? Did he not break his leg but his brain when he fell off his horse?"

As she said, Willas's letter contained a request for Lynd to use the opportunity of escorting the prisoners to travel beyond The Wall—to the Land of Always Winter—to retrieve the Horn of Winter. Willas had even drawn a simple map to indicate its location.

Nymeria's tone turned sharp. "You are no longer a knight of House Tyrell. You are a Lord of The Reach. You have every right to refuse such an outrageous order."

Lynd shook his head. "But I also want to go to The Wall and the Land of Always Winter to see it for myself."

Nymeria frowned. "What's there to see at The Wall and the Land of Always Winter? Apart from ice, it's just snow."

"You can see the White Walkers," Lynd said.

Nymeria let out a short laugh. "Haha! White Walkers!" She had thought he was joking, but after a moment, she noticed the seriousness in his expression. As her laughter faded, she asked with a more solemn tone, "Are you serious?"

Lynd nodded, glancing back at the note in his hand.

He didn't know much about the Horn of Winter, only that it was said to be buried somewhere at the Fist of the First Men, along with a cache of Dragonglass arrows. The exact location was uncertain, and from what he had heard, the horn itself was damaged.

"Will you be in danger if you go there?" Nymeria asked, a trace of worry slipping into her voice. The stories she had heard since childhood painted the White Walkers as terrifying, near-mythical beings.

"You shouldn't ask me that," Lynd said with a confident laugh. "You should ask the White Walkers." Not wanting to dwell on the topic any further, he changed the subject. "How's the old man's tavern coming along?"

"It's already built," Nymeria answered, though her face showed a hint of concern. "But he told you not to go there anymore. Last time you visited, you made too much noise and caused him trouble. Also, he said to stop bragging about your connection to him."

Since Tumbleton had stabilized, Lynd had wanted to bring Old Baine over from White Holdfast, but the old man had refused. He had insisted that he still had many old friends in White Holdfast and was comfortable there.

It wasn't until recently—after the last of Old Baine's friends had passed away—that he finally agreed to Lynd's request and moved his tavern to Tumbleton. However, he had declined the new tavern Lynd had built for him and instead used his own money to set up a small tavern by Tumbleton Road, just outside the town.

After the tavern was completed, Lynd had only visited once—and never again. Those who knew them well believed they had fallen out.

That day in the tavern, Lynd could feel that while Old Baine's feelings toward him had not changed but the difference in their statuses had placed a distance between them. Even their conversation had felt strained. So when he heard that Old Baine did not want him visiting again, he wasn't surprised.

He had since asked Nymeria to secretly look after the old man.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, he felt a slight movement from the fishing line. Reacting instantly, he lifted the rod and reeled in the line. A three-foot-long fish arced through the air and landed in Nymeria's boat. But when Lynd checked the end of the fishing line, he realized there was no hook.

Since he had decided to travel to the Land of Always Winter, he needed to arrange matters in his domain.

Lynd immediately sent ravens to the managers and garrison commanders of each region, informing them that he had accepted Willas's commission to escort a group of prisoners to The Wall. However, he did not mention that he planned to go beyond The Wall.

Because all responsibilities had already been assigned to the appropriate people, there was little else he needed to instruct. His final message stated that while he was away, Nymeria would oversee the domain.

None of his advisers objected to his decision. This was not the first time Nymeria had presided over matters in his absence. In fact, many people saw no distinction between their two realms—Nymeria and Lynd ruled as one. And in the future, when they had a child, that child would likely be the sole heir to both realms, legally uniting them.