Tyrion Lannister's breathing grew heavy and rapid.
He clutched Lynn's arm in a death grip.
A near-mad fire burned in his mismatched eyes.
"What do you mean?"
His voice was hoarse, like two rusty pieces of iron scraping together.
"What else do you know?"
"Tell me!"
A deathly silence settled over the camp.
Even the crackle of the fire seemed swallowed by the frozen air.
Jon and Arya exchanged bewildered looks.
They could not understand it at all.
How could a single story make a Lannister lose control like this?
Only Benjen Stark showed a flicker of understanding in his weathered eyes.
He quietly rose, took the still-dazed Arya and Jon with him, and walked to the other side of the camp.
Some things were not meant for children to hear.
Those events from Tyrion's past were simply too cruel.
Lynn did not pull free of Tyrion's grip.
He merely lowered his head and calmly regarded the dwarf clutching him.
He watched his face flush with violent emotion.
And he saw how bloodshot his eyes had become.
"Lord Lannister."
Lynn's voice remained frighteningly steady.
"Some truths are like Pandora's Box."
"Once you open it, what comes out may devour you."
"No!"
Tyrion growled.
"Tell me!"
"Tell me the truth!"
"Please."
Tyrion almost forced that last word through clenched teeth.
At that moment, the proud lion of Lannister bowed his head as he had never bowed it to anyone before.
All for a truth that might overturn his entire life.
Lynn shook his head.
"It isn't time yet."
Tyrion swayed.
The fire in his eyes dimmed in an instant, leaving only an ashen despair.
"Why?"
"What do you want?"
Tyrion jerked his head up.
His mind raced, searching for something he could offer in exchange.
"Gold?"
"Casterly Rock has more than enough gold!"
"A gold mine! I'll give you a gold mine!"
"Just tell me!"
Tyrion was all but begging.
A Lannister was offering a gold mine in exchange for an answer.
Lynn smiled.
Slowly, he pried Tyrion's fingers from his arm, one by one.
"My lord, do you think the Old Gods need gold?"
Those words left Tyrion utterly stunned.
"Is this guidance from the Old Gods too?"
He stared at Lynn, into those fathomless eyes.
For the first time, he realized how utterly powerless the wealth and wit he took such pride in were before this man.
He could not buy him with money.
Nor could he persuade him with words.
He was like an insect caught in a web.
And the other man was the spider, waiting patiently.
"Then what do you want?"
"If you chose to tell me all this, there must be something you want!"
"Just say it! Whatever you want, if it's within my power, I'll give it to you!"
There was a tremor in Tyrion's voice.
Lynn bent down and leaned close to Tyrion's ear.
"What I want is something you can't give me yet."
"But that day will come."
Telling Tyrion the truth now would not have much effect.
He was waiting for the Lannisters' oppression of Tyrion to reach its limit.
That would work more in his favor.
Lynn straightened and stopped looking at Tyrion.
"Get some rest, my lord."
"It's still a long way to the Wall."
With that, Lynn turned and walked toward his tent.
He left the shattered dwarf alone in the cold night.
Tyrion slumped in the snow, trembling uncontrollably.
Not from the cold.
If... if all of it was a lie.
If Tysha wasn't a whore, but just a poor, ordinary girl.
If it hadn't been a deception.
Then what had all the pain and humiliation he'd endured over the years been for?
And what cruel role had his father, Tywin Lannister, played in his life?
Tyrion slammed his fist into the frozen ground.
Blood seeped from his split knuckles, but he felt no pain at all.
In the distant shadows.
Jon watched it all, shaken to his core.
He had never imagined that words could wield such terrifying power.
Lynn had not even drawn his sword.
Yet he had utterly broken a high and mighty Lannister!
"Was he... always this formidable when he was in the Night's Watch?"
Jon could not help asking Benjen beside him.
Benjen drew his gaze away from Lynn's retreating figure, his expression conflicted.
"No."
Benjen shook his head.
"Lynn used to be just an ordinary young man."
"But now..."
Benjen paused, seemingly searching for the right word.
"He's more like a sword drawn from its sheath."
Now he, too, was beginning to believe the Old Gods had passed some message to Lynn.
And at such a critical moment, no less.
Arya tightened her grip on Needle at her waist.
Her eyes shone with admiration.
This was the kind of person she wanted to become.
Not a lady like Sansa, dressed in pretty gowns and waiting for a prince to save her.
But someone strong enough to frighten enemies and reassure her family through her own strength.
"I've spent my whole life inside a lie made just for me."
"My father, my sister, my brother..."
"Every one of them has been manipulating my life in ways I couldn't see."
The Lannister knelt on the ground, utterly desolate.
The Lannister name was no honor.
Especially not for a dwarf like him.
Lynn watched Tyrion's back, a faint smile touching his lips.
He had nothing against Tyrion.
He had told Tyrion these things not only to curb his sharp tongue, but also to lay the groundwork for the future.
Everyone was a pawn, but everyone was also a player!
Even the insignificant could influence the course of events!
The seed had been planted.
A seed called hatred and betrayal.
One day, it would take root and sprout.
It would grow into a towering tree capable of toppling all of House Lannister.
And he, Lynn, would be the only one to water it!
The next morning, when the party set out again, everyone noticed that something was wrong.
Tyrion Lannister had changed.
He no longer drank.
The wineskin that had hardly ever left his hand lay discarded in the ashes of the dead campfire.
He did nothing but read.
He no longer spoke, either.
The dwarf who had always had a clever remark ready, who armed himself with a sharp tongue and keen wit, seemed to have become mute overnight.
On the road, he rode in silence at the very rear of the party.
The face that had once been full of irreverence now held only an unsettling gloom.
Several times, Jon wanted to approach him and strike up a conversation.
But whenever he saw Tyrion's hollow eyes, he swallowed his words.
Arya was a little frightened.
She sidled up to Lynn and asked in a lowered voice.
"Lynn, what's wrong with that little dwarf?"
"He looks... like he's about to die."
Lynn patted her head.
"No."
"He isn't dying."
Lynn's gaze passed over the others and settled on that small figure.
"He's... been reborn."
Arya nodded, only half understanding.
The party continued north in silence.
The atmosphere was unbearably oppressive.
Even the criminals Yoren had brought along sensed the unusual tension, and every one of them began behaving himself.
Only Lynn remained as composed as ever.
He spent most of his time asking Benjen to teach him archery.
Draw, aim, shoot.
He repeated the tedious motions.
[Archery (beginner) 5/10] [Archery (beginner) 6/10]
Lynn discovered that, with someone to guide him and constant practice on his part, he could gain experience this way too!
The discovery left Lynn ecstatic.
He trained even harder.
The speed of his progress astonished even Benjen Stark.
This young man seemed born to fight.
Whatever techniques Benjen taught him, Lynn mastered them in record time.
His focus was nothing like that of an impetuous young man.
Another five days passed.
When an immense white shape appeared on the distant horizon, stretching between earth and sky, everyone reined in their horses.
The Wall.
The Wall.
It was an unimaginably majestic barrier built from ice, snow, and magic.
Like an enormous white dragon, it lay at the edge of the world.
It towered into the clouds, stretching on without end.
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