Game of Thrones: Knight’s Honor

"Are you really leaving?" Grenn, leader of the wildling tribes of the Thenns, stood at the entrance to the canyon, watching Lynd, who was already packed and ready to go. "Stay! Lord Lynd, you will be respected here like a god."

Lynd smiled and replied, "Grenn, let me ask you this: if you had unlimited food in the south, vast wealth, tens of thousands working under you, and countless people serving you at the heart of your domain, would you choose to remain in the cold north beyond the Wall or return to the south?"

"Forget I said anything," Grenn muttered, his face contorted as if he had been constipated for days. Muttering under his breath, he turned and hurried back into the canyon.

"He meant no harm. He just doesn't understand your status in the Southern Kingdoms," Mance Rayder stepped forward, offering an explanation on Grenn's behalf.

"I know. And I like the people here, too," Lynd said, glancing back at the tribal leaders and warriors gathered at the canyon entrance, waving him farewell.

Though he had only spent two days among them, his overwhelming display of strength in camp—single-handedly besting all the tribe's warriors—had earned him unparalleled respect among the wildling tribes. The Thenns, in particular, having witnessed his miraculous power firsthand, revered him almost as a god.

"Since the arrival of the Sixskins Varamyr's tribe, no other wildling clans have sought refuge here. It seems they were the last to come. The remaining tribes have either made their way to Hardhome or scattered, hoping to evade the White Walkers' pursuit," Mance Rayder said, a hint of sorrow in his voice. But then, shifting the subject, he added, "That incident with Varamyr—was that your doing?"

"Not me. It," Lynd corrected, shaking his head. He gestured toward Glory but didn't elaborate. Instead, he pointed toward the distant stream of melting snow and said, "You don't need to worry too much. The White Walkers won't be heading south again anytime soon. Haven't you noticed? The weather is getting warmer."

Mance Rayder froze at Lynd's words, then turned to where he was pointing. A thoughtful expression crossed his face, and soon, the worry in his brow eased. Everyone knew the White Walkers thrived in cold and blizzards; as warmth returned, they would inevitably retreat northward.

Lynd reached out and patted Mance Rayder's shoulder. "The wildling tribes haven't realized this yet. Use this time to strengthen your reputation among them. You were a Night's Watch deserter—they won't trust or respect you easily."

Mance Rayder fell into deep thought at Lynd's words. Without saying more, Lynd mounted his horse, took the reins, and guided Ebon away from the mountain. Glory and the Stone Giants followed closely behind, their figures soon disappearing over a distant hillside.

Though the crossing at the Milkwater River was close to the Shadow Tower and would take at most half a day to reach, Lynd chose to avoid it. With twenty-six Stone Giants at his side, he was unfamiliar with the Night's Watchmen stationed there, and leading such a force straight to their gates might cause unnecessary misunderstandings. Instead, he opted to take a detour south through the pass at Castle Black.

Two days later, Lynd and the giants arrived at the outer walls of the Wall. The sight of the towering Stone Giants immediately sent the men atop the Wall into alarm, and the warning bells rang out.

Hearing the clanging bells, Lynd instructed the Stone Giants to wait at the forest's edge while he rode Ebon toward the entrance of the pass below.

"Lord Lynd?" One of the Night's Watchmen peering through the guardrail recognized him, his voice tinged with surprise and relief.

"The giants are with me. I'm taking them south," Lynd informed them. "Go tell Lord Commander Jeor to give the go-ahead so there's no misunderstanding."

The Night's Watchmen exchanged stunned looks. The legendary giants had become Lynd's subordinates? Then again, after hearing of Lynd's feats—defeating the White Walkers and wights beyond the Wall—it wasn't so hard to believe. Regaining their composure, they quickly ran back through the passage to inform Lord Commander Jeor Mormont.

Lynd didn't wait at the gate. Instead, he turned Ebon around and rode back to the giants.

About twenty minutes later, the tunnel doors slowly creaked open. Jeor Mormont emerged, leading the senior members of the Night's Watch. Lynd, in turn, approached with the giants at his back.

"Lord Commander Jeor, I'm truly flattered that you've prepared such a grand welcome for me!" Lynd joked as he stopped in front of the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.

"You have restored to us Watchmen the ancient honor and duty that were lost. No welcome ceremony could be more fitting," Jeor Mormont replied solemnly. Then, leading all the senior Watchmen, he drew his sword in salute and recited the Night's Watch Oath.

"Night gathers, and now my watch begins.

It shall not end until my death.

I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children.

I shall wear no crowns and win no glory.

I shall live and die at my post.

I am the sword in the darkness.

I am the watcher on the walls.

I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men.

I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come."

The gathered Watchmen stood solemnly as they recited the oath, just as they had done when they first swore their vows and joined the Night's Watch.

Lynd saw this and dismounted, bowing in return.

To the Night's Watch, the appearance of the wights had been undeniable proof that their ancient responsibilities and honors were no longer the stuff of legend. The Watch was no longer merely a dumping ground for criminals and exiles but a brotherhood truly standing between mankind and destruction. For the Night's Watch leadership, this was nothing short of a rebirth, and their gratitude toward Lynd, who had defeated the White Walkers and brought back the wight as evidence, was profound.

After the solemn salute, the Night's Watch leaders led Lynd into the passage through The Wall. The Stone Giants following him had to lower themselves and crawl through the tunnel, but fortunately, the passage was wide enough to accommodate them.

As they passed through the heart of The Wall, the dragon rune fluctuated once more. However, this time the reaction was much weaker than before. Lynd remained composed, using the moment to check the Horn of Winter and the dragon egg in his backpack.

As he had expected, the vascular pattern on the dragon egg's surface glowed with a faint red hue, extending like branching blood vessels in all directions. The Winter Horn remained silent, yet he could feel its dormant power resonating faintly with the magic within The Wall.

The dark passage was soon traversed, and as they emerged from the tunnel, all abnormal fluctuations ceased.

At Castle Black, every Night's Watchman, whether a follower of the Old Gods or the Faith of the Seven, erupted into cheers upon seeing Lynd. Their voices rang out in unison: "The Chosen One! The Chosen One!"

It was evident that the legend of the Seven's Chosen One, the savior of the world, had already taken root in their hearts, replacing the prophecy of Azor Ahai and his smoke and salt. After all, the legend of smoke and salt was just that—a legend. But the Chosen One of the Seven had slain White Walkers and brought back undeniable proof of their existence. When faced with such tangible evidence, there was little question as to which story held greater weight.

However, the cheers abruptly stopped as the giants emerged from the tunnel.

For many, it was the first time seeing beings as colossal as Castle Black's walls. Even battle-hardened men, accustomed to facing death, felt an instinctive, suffocating awe at their sheer size.

Lynd took charge, arranging for the Stone Giants to be stationed in the open space outside Castle Black. He instructed the Night's Watch officers to provide the giants with sufficient food—but not for free. He offered ample coin in exchange, ensuring fairness in the transaction.

After freshening up briefly, Lynd was summoned by Jeor Mormont to Maester Aemon's study. Upon arrival, he found himself in the presence of the high-ranking members of the Night's Watch, including the commanders of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea and the Shadow Tower.

"Did you find it?" Maester Aemon asked impatiently as soon as Lynd entered.

"Yes," Lynd replied, pulling the Winter Horn from his backpack and placing it on Maester Aemon's desk.

Everyone's gaze fell on the bronze horn, their expressions filled with curiosity and doubt. The Old Bear muttered, "This is the Winter Horn? It's a bit small, isn't it? Can this really bring down the Wall?"

"An iron door can be opened with a small key, and this is the key to open the Wall," Lynd said calmly.

Maester Aemon reached out, his fingers running over the surface of the horn, tracing the ancient runes. "These runes… They are the script of the First Men, perhaps even older than the First Men themselves. I have seen similar markings in the Citadel."

"If we blow this thing now, will The Wall collapse?" the Commander of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea asked nervously.

Lynd pointed to the visible crack in the horn and said, "Now that it's damaged, it may not work. If it can be repaired… maybe."

A collective sigh of relief passed through the room.

"This thing is too dangerous. We should destroy it now," someone suggested.

"No," Lynd said firmly, his expression grave. "When we passed through the Great Wall passage just now, I could feel that the Horn of Winter has a connection with the magic within The Wall. If we destroy it outright, I'm not sure how it will affect The Wall itself."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

"Lord Lynd, what do you plan to do with this artifact?" Maester Aemon asked.

Lynd's voice was steady as he answered, "I was entrusted by Lord Willas Tyrell to find the Horn of Winter. Now that I have it, I must take it to Highgarden and deliver it to Lord Willas."

The Old Bear nodded. "Taking it to Highgarden… that's good. It's much better than leaving it in the North. And since it will be in Lord Willas's collection, he will surely take care to ensure its safety."

Lynd placed the horn back in his backpack before asking, "After Brother Benjen brought back the wight, what did you do with it?"

"We followed your orders," Jeor Mormont answered with a serious expression. "Benjen and a group of rangers took the wight south to King's Landing. This is a matter of utmost importance to the honor of the Night's Watch, so we sent our best men to escort it."

"While passing through Mole's Town, they encountered Ser Vortimer and Ser Joel, who had not yet departed. The two knights joined the escort. A few days ago, we received word that they had passed Winterfell. After seeing the wight himself, Lord Eddard personally led Winterfell's guard to accompany the escort to King's Landing. With Lord Eddard involved, His Grace will surely take the matter more seriously."

Lynd nodded. He was a little surprised that Eddard Stark had personally taken it upon himself to escort the wight south. In the history of that book from his past life, Eddard Stark had never journeyed south again after the suppression of the Iron Islands rebellion. The next time he had, he had died there—just like his father and brother before him.

"Lord Lynd, you were with Mance Rayder, the betrayer, in the end, were you not?" the Commander of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea asked. "Where is he now?"

"He is with the Thenns," Lynd replied.

At this, the expressions of the Night's Watch leaders darkened. The existence of a traitor in their ranks was already a disgrace, but now that it had been exposed before an outsider like Lynd, it felt like a stain on their honor.

"This is precisely what I wanted to tell you," Lynd said, his expression grave as he looked around the room. "When I left, the Thenns were in hiding with other wildling tribes from the Haunted Forest and the eastern coast beyond the Wall. They are in a hidden valley in the Frostfangs—about ten thousand of them."

The room tensed as every man sat up straighter.

"There are also some wildling tribes who have fled to Hardhome, seeking refuge there. Their numbers should be between ten to twenty thousand," Lynd continued. "And that's only a small fraction. Other tribes have taken shelter in various safe havens, but many have been captured by the White Walkers. Some have been turned into wights, others into White Walkers themselves."

"Good. The wildlings deserve to die," one of the Night's Watch members muttered aloud.

Most of those present showed some degree of satisfaction at the news, but among them, Jeor Mormont and Maester Aemon only looked more serious.

"You think this is a good thing?" Lynd's gaze swept over the men. "Do you think it's a victory that the enemies you've fought for so many years have been slaughtered by the White Walkers? Don't forget—when the White Walkers kill them, they don't just disappear. They rise again as wights, stronger and more relentless than before. The number of enemies does not decrease. It only grows."

Silence fell over the room.

"This is the reason I came to tell you this." Lynd stood up, resting his hands on the hilt of his greatsword as he looked at them with unwavering seriousness. "I don't care how much you hate the wildlings. But when faced with an enemy like the White Walkers—an enemy that hates all life—you must put aside all grudges and focus on the real fight."

He took a slow breath before continuing, "I can tell you with certainty—when I stood at the Fist of the First Men and saw hundreds of thousands of wights advancing toward me, led by hundreds of White Walkers, I didn't think I would ever return to the South alive. At that moment, I was terrified."

He had exaggerated the numbers of White Walkers and wights, deliberately heightening the tension. Then, as if lost in the memory, his expression shifted—his voice steadier.

"But then, the blizzard suddenly stopped. It was no ordinary change in the weather—it was as if the gods themselves had intervened. And after that, the White Walkers and their endless horde of wights turned and retreated before my eyes. At that moment, I understood the mission I was given. I knew what had to be done."

His eyes scanned the room, locking onto each man with unwavering intensity. "Here and now, I ask you to remember the true purpose of the Night's Watch. Do not let old hatred blind you. You are regaining the honor and duty of the Watch—but you must also remember who your true enemy is."

The men around him remained silent. Their expressions were unusually serious, but none gave him an immediate answer. Instead, they sat in deep thought, his words sinking in. Though no one spoke, it was clear that Lynd's message had left its mark.