Jaime's probe

Lynn looked at her.

He knew his gamble had paid off.

This promise was worth more than gold.

"My lady."

Lynn's voice was soft.

"I ask for nothing."

"It is my duty to serve House Stark."

Catelyn froze.

She had not expected that answer.

She gazed into Lynn's eyes, which seemed especially calm in the candlelight, and her respect for him deepened.

"Rest assured, Ned will see that you are treated fairly."

Catelyn straightened.

"Focus on recovering."

"If you need anything, simply tell the servants."

With that, she gave Lynn one last look, then turned and left the room.

Only when the door closed did Lynn's taut nerves finally relax.

He had succeeded.

He had earned the trust of House Stark, especially Catelyn Stark.

This was the most crucial step in his plan.

It was also meant to let the whole world know that House Stark owed him a debt.

That way, if House Stark ever turned against him, they would first have to consider whether they could withstand the gossip and condemnation.

Especially here in the North.

Yet before Lynn could catch his breath, there was another interruption.

Someone knocked on the door again.

This time, the knocks were steady and firm.

"Come in."

Lynn spoke.

The door swung open.

A figure clad in gold walked in.

Jaime Lannister.

He still wore that gleaming golden armor, without a single mark left by a blade.

An amused smile lingered on his handsome face.

He closed the door behind him and walked straight to Lynn's bedside.

He looked down at Lynn, his blue eyes studying him like some interesting object.

"I heard about your exploits."

Jaime spoke, his voice rich with casual indifference.

"Catching a child falling from the sky with your bare hands."

"Quite an impressive feat."

"You're Jaime, aren't you?"

Lynn asked calmly.

The smile on Jaime's face stiffened.

Then it grew broader-and more dangerous.

"So you know who I am."

Lynn continued without waiting for him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Visiting Winterfell's hero, of course."

Jaime pulled over the chair Maester Luwin had been sitting in and took a seat.

He crossed his legs and leaned forward slightly.

"I'm curious."

"Why were you beneath that abandoned tower at the time?"

Jaime's gaze seemed intent on splitting Lynn's skull open.

He wanted to see exactly what Lynn was thinking.

And what he might know.

Lynn did not move.

Nor did he need to.

"I like peace and quiet."

Lynn's voice sounded slightly muffled as he lay there.

"It's secluded enough that no one bothers me."

"A good place to practice with a sword."

The explanation was simple, direct, and without a single flaw.

The smile on Jaime's face remained unchanged.

But the scrutiny in his eyes intensified.

"Practice with a sword?"

Jaime repeated the words, drawing out the last one with a hint of mockery.

"A man who doesn't polish his spear in the warm bed of a brothel, but runs off to a godforsaken place like that to practice in the cold."

"That's... surprisingly diligent."

Lynn's gaze shifted from Jaime's face to his gleaming golden armor.

"In the North, laziness gets you killed."

Lynn's tone was even.

He might have been stating the most ordinary fact in the world.

At last, Jaime's smile faded a little.

He could not see the slightest fear in Lynn's eyes.

Only a stillness like stagnant water.

It irritated him.

It was like punching a wad of cotton.

Jaime stopped questioning him.

He knew further questions would get him nowhere.

Lynn's answers were flawless.

His gaze moved from Lynn's face to the longsword beside the bed.

It was an ordinary, standard-issue longsword.

The grip had been worn smooth, and a few shallow scratches marked the scabbard.

Jaime rose.

He reached out and picked up the sword.

The weight of the metal seemed negligible in his hand.

Shing-

Jaime drew the longsword.

The blade reflected a cold gleam in the dim candlelight.

He tapped the blade lightly with a finger.

It gave a clear, ringing hum.

"A decent sword."

Jaime offered his appraisal.

"It seems the smiths in the North haven't lost their touch."

His gaze returned to Lynn.

It sharpened.

"Ever cut anyone down with it?"

Lynn's gaze did not shift.

"I have."

His answer was simple and direct.

Jaime pointed the sword at Lynn, its edge glinting in the candlelight.

"Many people."

Jaime's lips curved.

"What does killing feel like?"

Lynn answered with a smile.

"Nothing much."

"They wanted to kill me, so I killed them."

Jaime smiled too.

He slid the longsword back into its scabbard and tossed it casually onto the bed.

"I first killed a man when I was fifteen."

Jaime's voice was flat.

"A fugitive, on the Kingsroad."

"He tried to steal my horse."

"I drove my sword through his throat, and his filthy blood sprayed all over my face."

Jaime looked at his hands, a knight's hands, clean and strong.

"I vomited all night."

"I thought I would remember his face forever."

He paused, then looked at Lynn.

"But now I can't remember it clearly."

"I've killed far too many people."

"On battlefields, in tourneys, in alleyways."

"To me, killing is as easy as breathing."

Jaime rose, returned to the bedside, and looked down at Lynn.

"A man is like a ragged sack."

"One little stab, and he dies."

"Killing isn't difficult."

"The difficult part is making other people think you were justified in killing him."

"And the simplest way is to make him draw his sword on you first."

Lynn nearly laughed.

He knew Jaime Lannister was not making idle conversation.

He was warning him.

He was telling Lynn that he was a butcher who killed without blinking.

Anyone who opposed him would face the full fury of his wrath.

Though he was unsure whether Lynn truly knew nothing, he still warned him not to go looking for trouble.

Lynn silently added a thought of his own.

Don't worry, Jaime. As long as you don't draw your sword on me first, you won't have to die either.

Jaime left in haste.

Not long after Jaime left, an elegant figure appeared in the doorway.