Light Sword

It was late at night.

Most of Winterfell had fallen silent.

Only the footsteps of patrolling guards echoed through the empty courtyards.

And now and then, a horse neighed in the stables.

Lynn's room was on one side of the main keep, near the kitchens.

The fire in the hearth had dwindled to a small cluster of dark red embers, barely keeping the chill at bay.

Lynn sat cross-legged on his bed.

The longsword Ned Stark had bestowed on him lay across his knees.

He was not asleep.

He was waiting.

Tap, tap-tap.

A knock sounded against the door, so faint it was almost inaudible.

Lynn opened his eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

He got off the bed and slid back the bolt.

A small figure slipped through the gap, as nimble as a cat.

Arya Stark darted into the room, clutching a wooden practice sword taller than she was.

She closed the door behind her and let out a long breath, her face alight with the thrill of getting away with mischief.

Arya lowered her voice and said smugly,

"The guards think I'm asleep."

She set the wooden practice sword on the floor and dusted off her hands.

A longing fiercer than the embers in the hearth burned in her eyes.

"Remember our agreement?"

"Teach me."

Lynn wasted no words.

He picked up his longsword and twirled it through a flourish in the dim room.

The steel sliced through the air with a faint hum.

"The swordsmanship of the Night's Watch has no name."

Lynn looked at Arya.

"It has only one purpose."

"To kill your enemy as quickly as possible and keep yourself alive."

"It isn't pretty."

"It's downright ugly."

Arya nodded vigorously. "I know!"

Lynn moved to the center of the room, clearing a small space.

"Watch closely."

He assumed a standard opening stance.

His weight settled low, his blade angled toward the floor.

It was a stance that placed extreme emphasis on stability and explosive power.

"When an enemy swings at you..."

Lynn demonstrated a parry.

Rather than meeting the blow with brute force, he angled his blade to deflect the imagined attack.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, he carried the movement into a thrust.

The motion was simple and vicious, aimed straight at a vital spot.

"Defense is always preparation for the next attack."

Lynn drew his sword back.

"Many of the Wildlings beyond the Wall are bigger and stronger than us."

"If you try to match their strength, you'll be the one who dies."

Arya watched without blinking.

She raised her wooden sword and tried to copy Lynn's movements.

Lynn interrupted her and handed her his own sword.

"Wooden swords are children's toys."

"Use this!"

Excitement flashed in Arya's eyes.

This was her first time touching a real sword!

This was the real thing Catelyn had always forbidden her to touch!

Arya took the heavy one-handed sword.

"Hah!"

With a sharp cry, she thrust the one-handed sword forward.

But her movements looked rather comical.

The heavy sword slowed her down.

Lynn picked up Arya's wooden sword and fed her practice attacks.

When she parried, the impact made her thin arms tremble.

When she thrust, she lacked the power to drive the blade home.

"That's not right."

Arya stopped, frowning in frustration.

"I can't knock the sword aside like you do."

Lynn looked at her tense little face and trembling arms.

He realized that although the Night's Watch's swordsmanship emphasized technique, its foundation still rested on the strength of a grown man.

It was still too "heavy" for Arya.

He had to make adjustments.

After a moment's thought, Lynn raised his sword again.

This time, his movements changed.

He no longer emphasized a firm parry, focusing instead on evasion and nimble counterattacks.

Rather than making direct, tiring cuts and thrusts, his blade traced light arcs, targeting gaps in the enemy's defenses.

Lynn's movements became smaller and faster.

As Lynn immersed himself in devising this lighter, more agile swordsmanship tailored to Arya, the familiar blue panel quietly appeared.

[Host has successfully applied existing knowledge to a new discipline. Strength requirement met. Agility requirement met. New skill successfully comprehended...]

[Congratulations, host. New skill acquired: Light Sword (Beginner) 1/10]

Something stirred in Lynn's heart.

This Light Sword technique, born from the Night's Watch's swordsmanship yet utterly different from it, was exactly what he had been missing.

Against opponents who relied on strength, his prized One-Handed Sword technique fell somewhat short.

He could not fight such people by matching their strength.

He could only evade their attacks and wear down their stamina.

Then he would need only to deliver a fatal blow once they were exhausted.

"Try this instead."

Lynn broke down the rudiments of Light Sword into the most basic footwork and thrusts and taught them to Arya.

Arya's eyes lit up.

She raised the Iron Sword again.

This time, she no longer tried to "parry."

When Lynn lightly tapped Arya's Iron Sword with the wooden one, she followed the motion, retreating half a step while flicking her blade toward his wrist from an awkward angle.

"So fast!"

Arya cried out excitedly.

She felt like a fish in water, freed from her restraints.

Yet that excitement lasted only a moment.

When she tried to attack several times in succession, another problem appeared.

Although Light Sword did not demand as much strength, it required exceptional coordination and precision.

Several of Arya's thrusts missed their mark.

She stopped, panting, her little face flushed red.

"It's still no good."

Arya's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"My sword is too heavy."

She looked at the steel longsword in her hands, then at the chunk of wood in Lynn's.

Suddenly, she realized a cruel truth.

"I... I'm a girl."

Arya's voice grew quiet, tinged with resentment.

"No matter how much I practice, I'll never be as strong as Robb or Theon."

She raised her head, her gray eyes full of uncertainty.

"In the end, this swordsmanship still relies on strength to overpower the enemy, doesn't it?"

Lynn fell silent.

Arya's intuition was accurate.

Even Light Sword, under the realities of warfare in Westeros, ultimately relied on the strength needed to pierce armor or shatter bone.

Lynn knew Arya needed an entirely different way of fighting.

A sword art that depended not on strength, but solely on speed and precision.

"You're right, Arya."

Lynn patted her head.

"You don't need to be the strongest."

"But you can be the fastest."

Just then, a jumble of footsteps sounded outside the door.

"Over there! I think I heard something!"

It was the night patrol!

Arya went deathly pale and grabbed Lynn's sleeve.

Lynn quickly blew out the oil lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

He pulled Arya into the shadows behind the door.

The footsteps drew closer and closer, finally stopping outside.

Lynn could clearly hear the guard breathing beyond the door.

Arya held her breath in fear, her little hands ice-cold as she clung tightly to Lynn.

She was two years younger than her sister Sansa, only nine now, but even she knew she should not be in a man's room at night.

A long moment passed.

"Must've been hearing things. Let's go."

Another guard muttered,

"This damned weather. Even the wind sounds haunted."

The footsteps gradually faded.

Lynn and Arya exchanged a glance in the darkness and breathed sighs of relief at the same time.

"I should go back."

Arya's voice trembled slightly.

"Tomorrow... can I come again tomorrow night?"

"Be careful."

Lynn helped smooth her disheveled hair.

"There are plenty of people and prying eyes in the castle these days. The king's procession will be here soon."

Arya nodded vigorously and vanished silently down the corridor like a little deer.

Lynn closed the door and lit a candle.

He looked at the longsword in his hand, then at [Light Sword (Beginner) 1/10] on the system panel.

Although Arya had not mastered it, he had gained a great deal.

Lynn knew he needed to improve his strength as soon as possible.

The king's arrival meant the center of the storm had shifted to Winterfell.

And he was already in its eye.