Everyone stopped what they were doing.
Greatjon Umber's huge, fanlike hand froze in midair as he reached for his wine cup again.
Maege Mormont lowered the roast meat from her lips.
Even Wyman Manderly, who had been silently stuffing himself, raised his fat, greasy face.
Dozens of eyes turned toward Lynn at once.
The harvest council?
Oh, right.
This was supposed to be the main business.
Even if they all knew it was only the main business on the surface.
"Winter is coming."
Lynn began to speak.
Those words were the motto of House Stark.
Northerners knew better than any southerner what winter truly meant.
"The maesters of the Citadel say we are living through the longest summer in the history of Westeros."
"Many children of the great houses were born during this long summer. They have already forgotten the cruelty of winter."
Lynn's gaze swept slowly over everyone present, finding a familiar gravity on their faces.
"And after a long summer, there will inevitably come an even longer, harsher winter!"
"The Long Night."
From the corner, Roose Bolton, who had remained silent as though he were part of the shadows, spoke those words in his uniquely soft voice.
Those words seemed to plunge the temperature in the hall, sending a bone-deep chill through everyone.
"Yes, the Long Night."
Lynn nodded.
"A night long enough to freeze hell itself and make the living envy the dead."
"My people, those you call wildlings, did not cross the Wall to plunder."
"They were fleeing for their lives."
"They were fleeing darkness and cold capable of swallowing the entire world."
An uneasy stir ran through the hall.
Wildlings?
Since when had those bloodthirsty savages begun to fear winter?
Weren't they part of winter themselves?
"King Beyond the Wall."
Rickard Karstark rose to his