Hunting Wildlings

A flock of ravens circled above Castle Black, their harsh cries piercing the air.

Lynn lay on a crude bed, staring at the crisscrossing wooden beams overhead.

The bitter smell of herbs filled the room, and several rolls of bloodstained bandages lay piled in a corner.

Last night's assassin had already been hastily buried in the mass grave behind the castle.

No one asked who the dead man was.

Nor did anyone care who had sent him.

At the Wall, death was nothing unusual.

Torrhen entered the room carrying a steaming bowl of meat broth.

"My lord, Maester Aemon said you need to replenish your strength."

Lynn took the wooden bowl, its warmth seeping into his palms.

He took a small sip, and a salty, gamey taste spread across his tongue.

"Have you found out who that man was last night?"

Torrhen shook his head.

"Just an ordinary member of the Night's Watch named Bill."

"He didn't talk much and had few friends."

"As for who put him up to it..."

Torrhen trailed off.

Such things were commonplace at Castle Black.

Once the man died, the trail went cold.

Lynn set the wooden bowl on the small table beside his bed.

He had expected this outcome.

A petty schemer like Alliser Thorne always covered his tracks.

Even if he really had ordered it, he would never leave anything that could be used against him.

"Forget it."

Lynn slowly sat up, the movement pulling at the wound on his back and worsening the pain.

"Dead men don't talk."

"And the living don't necessarily tell the truth."

Torrhen clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.

"My lord, should I take some men and teach that Thorne a lesson?"

"No."

"Without grounds, doing that would only anger Mormont."

Lynn waved a hand.

"Now isn't the time."

Lynn tapped his fingers against the edge of the bed in a steady rhythm.

He was already turning another matter over in his mind.

What he had gained last night mattered far more than catching the assassin.

When his men killed someone, he gained experience points too.

That discovery completely changed his strategic planning.

If his men's kills could also earn him experience points, he could simply send squads out to hunt.

Meanwhile, he could focus on improving himself in other ways.

"Torrhen."

Lynn's voice suddenly grew serious.

"Pick the ten most dependable men."

"Take enough supplies and patrol the outskirts of the Wall."

Torrhen froze for a moment.

"My lord? You mean..."

"Wildlings."

A sharp gleam flashed in Lynn's eyes.

"I hear quite a few small wildling bands have been active near the Wall lately."

"They'll make good practice for you."

Excitement spread across Torrhen's face.

These soldiers from the North had long been itching for action.

A real fight with steel in their hands was exactly what they wanted.

"Yes, my lord!"

Torrhen turned to leave, but Lynn called him back.

"Remember, don't get carried away fighting."

"Adapt to the situation. Your safety comes first."

Lynn spoke with genuine sincerity.

Back when he played Mount & Blade, losing his men had hurt even though they were only virtual characters, let alone now.

These hundred elite soldiers were practically his lifeblood!

Their lives were worth more than experience points.

He could grind experience slowly, but loyal men were far harder to find.

A flicker of emotion crossed Torrhen's eyes. He could see that Lynn's concern came from the heart.

He nodded firmly and strode out of the room.

Lynn lay back down and closed his eyes.

For the next few days, he needed to focus on recovering.

At the same time, he had something else, something more important, to do.

He recalled the training methods he had learned in his previous life.

Since I've got nothing else to do, I might as well try a more scientific way of exercising.

Three days later.

Lynn's injuries had mostly healed.

He stood in Castle Black's training yard, with several iron pots borrowed from the kitchens beside him.

He had tied the pots together with ropes to serve as makeshift weights.

Jon Snow stood nearby, watching Lynn's actions with a baffled expression.

"What are you doing?"

Jon walked over and pointed at the oddly shaped iron pots.

"Training."

Lynn secured the pots over his shoulders and began doing squats.

His movements were slow and precise, each squat tightening the muscles in his legs.

Jon's brow furrowed further.

"I've never seen anyone train like this."

"Back at Winterfell, the knights just practiced with swords."

Lynn kept moving as beads of sweat began sliding down his forehead.

"Everyone has their own methods."

The core of strength training was progressive overload.

Only by continually increasing the strain on the muscles could he encourage them to tear and regrow.

Westeros's traditional training methods, however, were clearly still fairly primitive.

An hour later.

Lynn set down the iron pots, his whole body drenched in sweat.

He leaned against a wooden post at the edge of the training yard, panting heavily.

His muscles ached, a sign that his strength was growing.

[Through scientific strength training, your strength has increased slightly. Please explore ways to improve your other attributes on your own.]

[Strength: 5 (current progress: 4%)]

Excitement flashed in Lynn's eyes.

It really worked!

Name: Lynn

Strength: 5 (4%)

Agility: 5 (0%)

Constitution: 5 (0%)

[Click to expand]

Remaining experience: 2

"Looks like my strength will reach 6 only after I fill the progress bar."

Jon was still examining the iron pots nearby.

"Does this really work?"

He tentatively lifted one of the pots, testing its weight.

"You can try it."

Lynn stood up again and patted Jon on the shoulder.

"But build up gradually. Don't start with weights that are too heavy."

Jon nodded and began copying Lynn's movements.

Though he was a little awkward, his form was reasonably sound.

Watching Jon train so earnestly stirred a sense of reflection in Lynn.

The sun sank in the west.

Only two figures remained in the training yard, both sweating profusely.

In the distance, Arya leaned on a windowsill, watching Lynn's every movement intently.

The girl's eyes were full of admiration and concern.

She did not understand why Lynn trained in such a strange way, but she knew there had to be a reason.

After all, everything Lynn did proved right in the end.

On the seventh day.

Torrhen returned to Castle Black with his squad.

They all wore excited smiles, though their clothes bore plenty of bloodstains.

Their spoils were packed into several sacks and unloaded from the horses.

Lynn stood in the center of the courtyard, waiting for Torrhen's report.

"My lord!"

Torrhen strode up to Lynn, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.

"We found a wildling squad twenty li from the Wall."

"Twelve men in all."

Lynn nodded, motioning for him to continue.

"We attacked from the flank and caught them completely off guard."

"The fight lasted less than half an hour. We killed every wildling."

"Only two of our men suffered minor injuries."

Torrhen's voice brimmed with pride.

Lynn's attention, however, was focused on something else.

[12 enemies killed. Experience +15]

[Current experience: 17]

The system notification sounded in his mind, instantly lifting Lynn's spirits.

Just as he had thought, his men's kills counted toward his own gains.

That meant he could send out several squads at once to hunt wildlings in different places.

With proper command, he could earn experience points much faster.

"Well done."

Lynn patted Torrhen on the shoulder.

"Let the men get some proper rest. Be ready for the next operation in three days."

Torrhen grinned.

"My lord, the men are all excited."

"They say this is real fighting, far more interesting than standing guard at Winterfell."

A faint smile tugged at Lynn's lips as well.

It seemed these soldiers from the North had fully awakened their appetite for battle.

That was good news for his plans.