Jon Snow's New Colleagues

Yoren's party joined Lynn's orderly column.

After making some inquiries, Yoren had learned that Lynn now served Lord Ned, so naturally, he dared not say much.

That made the column even quieter.

The thirty-odd so-called "new men of the Night's Watch" stood in stark contrast to the hardened, imposing northern soldiers in iron armor under Lynn's command.

These fresh recruits wore ragged clothes and reeked of bodies long unwashed.

Some cowered, their eyes shifting evasively.

They were like rats accustomed to living in gutters.

Others had vicious eyes, filled with the ferocity of beasts driven into a corner.

Lynn and Arya rode side by side.

Arya spoke quietly.

"Lynn, my father promised to help you secure a lord's title. If you become a lord, does that mean you'll be allowed to marry me?"

Lynn paused.

Arya was still young. She had little understanding of power, nor did she know the problems posed by unequal social standing.

She only knew that she wanted to be with whoever made her happy.

Typical Stark straightforwardness.

Still, someone had clearly said these things to Arya on purpose.

Lynn did not deny it.

"Yes. Once I become a lord, your father will certainly let me marry you."

Delighted, Arya grew more talkative.

"So it really is true. Jon didn't lie to me."

"He also told me to help you more and put in a good word for you with Father..."

So it had been Jon.

The lad had probably already pieced together the clues and realized Arya's feelings for Lynn were different.

After all, Jon and Arya were close. It was hardly surprising that he had noticed.

Fortunately, Jon meant no harm, and the tension in Lynn's face eased.

He turned to look at Jon Snow behind him.

Jon was riding his horse.

He was not looking at Lynn. Instead, his gaze kept straying toward those men.

Jon saw a man missing an ear.

The man was staring fixedly at Arya with cloudy eyes full of naked greed.

He saw another man with a savage scar across his face.

Without any attempt to hide it, the man licked his cracked lips, his gaze roving over the column's supplies.

These men were to be his future "brothers"?

Jon's brow furrowed involuntarily.

The Night's Watch he had imagined was an iron bulwark made up of countless heroes who defended their homes and country-men like his uncle Benjen, like Lynn.

Not this... rabble before him.

Even calling them a rabble gave these men too much credit.

"What are you looking at?"

A voice interrupted Jon's thoughts.

At some point, Tyrion Lannister had ridden his pony up beside Jon.

His mismatched eyes held a trace of amusement, as though he could see straight through people.

"Admiring your future comrades, little bastard?"

Jon pressed his lips into a rigid line.

"They're men of the Night's Watch, too."

There was a defensive note in Jon's voice that even he did not notice.

"Oh, of course."

Tyrion nodded extravagantly, as though agreeing with some great truth.

He took a sip of wine from the wineskin he carried.

The sharp liquid made him narrow his eyes in pleasure.

"They'll soon don black and defend the kingdom."

"How noble."

Tyrion pointed a stubby finger at a man with pointed ears and a pinched, simian face.

"See that one?"

"I'd wager he's a thief."

"A habitual offender who can't keep his hands to himself."

"Perhaps it was a few slices of bread. Perhaps a lady's necklace."

"The judge gave him a choice: lose his hand or go to the Wall."

"It seems he's rather fond of his hand."

Jon went a little pale.

Tyrion's gaze shifted to the man with the scarred face.

"And that one."

"Look at his gait, and those eyes."

"A murderer, without a doubt."

"Perhaps it was over a whore in a tavern. Perhaps a purse of coins in an alley."

"The noose or a journey north-it all ends the same way for him."

Tyrion's voice was quiet, yet it sliced cleanly through the fragile cloak of "honor" Jon had draped over the Night's Watch in his mind.

"And that one, the fellow who keeps staring at Arya."

The corners of Tyrion's mouth lifted slightly.

"A rapist."

"The most revolting sort."

"If not for Yoren's chains, I suspect he'd have already pounced on her."

"Castration or a lifetime without women at the Wall. That can hardly have been a difficult choice for him."

"He's rather fond of his cock."

"Still, I imagine any man would make the same choice."

Tyrion shrugged.

Jon's breathing grew heavy.

His grip on the reins tightened until his knuckles turned white.

"Stop."

"Ha."

Tyrion gave a short laugh.

"Little bastard, what sort of place do you think the Wall is?"

"A home for heroes?"

"No, no, no."

Tyrion shook his head theatrically, as though correcting a child who had made a mistake.

"The Wall is the biggest privy in the Seven Kingdoms."

"All the filthy, stinking refuse that can't bear the light of day eventually gets flushed there."

"Thieves, brigands, murderers, rapists, and..."

As Tyrion trailed off, his shrewd eyes fixed on Jon's face.

Jon stiffened in his saddle.

He wanted to argue, but found he could not utter a word.

Tyrion was telling the truth.

A truth Jon had deliberately avoided, yet one that existed in all its bloody ugliness.

He raised his head and looked at those "new brothers" again.

This time, he no longer saw future "brothers."

Instead, he saw individual, filthy crimes.

Theft, plunder, murder, depravity.

At that moment, Tyrion shattered every lofty fantasy Jon had ever held about the Night's Watch in the cruelest way possible.

At the front of the column, Lynn reined in his horse.

He did not turn around, but he had heard their conversation perfectly clearly.

Benjen still wore his usual mild expression, seemingly untroubled by any of it.

When everyone fell silent, Tyrion lost interest.

He picked up a book and began reading with relish again.

That, too, piqued Jon's curiosity.

"I noticed it before."

"You seem to be reading all the time."

"Why do you read so many books?"

Tyrion did not lift his head.

"Jon, I want you to look at me."

"Then tell me what you see."

Jon did not quite know what to say.

Tyrion supplied the answer himself.

"I imagine you want to say you see a dwarf."

"And indeed, I am a dwarf."

"Had I been born to an ordinary family, my parents would probably have drowned me in a privy long ago."

Tyrion continued turning the pages of his book.

"But as it happens, I was born at Casterly Rock, into House Lannister."

"I attract a great deal of attention."

"My sister is the Queen."

"My nephew is the future king, Protector of the Realm of the Seven Kingdoms."

"And what of me?"

"Am I to enjoy the Lannister name without shouldering any responsibility?"

"My brother has his sword."

"King Robert has his warhammer."

"And I have my mind."

Tyrion tapped his temple with a stubby finger.

"A mind needs books to stay sharp, just as a sword needs a whetstone."

"That's why I read so many books."

Jon fell silent.

He looked at the dwarf before him.

For the first time, he felt that Tyrion's small body held a strength equal to any knight's.

Jon thought of himself, too.

What strength did he have?

Tyrion glanced up at Jon.

"I enjoy talking to people."

"It lets me learn different ways of thinking from different people."

"What about you, little bastard?"

"Now it's your turn."

"What's your story?"

After being called a bastard over and over, Jon rolled his eyes and replied irritably.

"Beg me, dwarf. Perhaps I'll tell you if I'm in a good mood."