Over the next few days, Winterfell grew livelier than ever before.
Along the Kingsroad, parties flying the banners of the great houses of the North arrived one after another, braving the wind and snow.
Karstark, Umber, Manderly...
Inside Winterfell's Council Hall.
The fire in the hearth blazed brightly.
All the Lords of the North had gathered there.
They looked at the young man seated at the head of the hall with awe in their eyes, but more than that, with the fervor of men who had found hope.
Ned Stark had already informed them all of his decision by raven.
Surprisingly, not a single lord had objected.
"Duke Stark's decision is the North's decision."
The corpulent Wyman Manderly, Lord of White Harbor, was the first to rise.
A merchant's shrewdness gleamed in his eyes, squeezed into narrow slits by the fat around them.
"Besides, the power Lord Lynn has shown gives us every reason to believe he can lead us through this winter."
His words immediately drew agreement from the other lords.
"That's right! I've never seen roads built so fast in my life, and it's dead men building them for us!" Greatjon of House Umber said in his deep, rumbling voice.
"Rather than putting my hopes in those elusive gods, I'd sooner trust what I can see with my own eyes!"
"The North needs someone truly strong!"
They were all pragmatic northerners.
Faced with the threat of the Long Night, they trusted only power that could keep them alive.
And Lynn had already proven that he possessed it.
Lynn surveyed the Lords of the North before him, some rough-hewn, others shrewd.
Everything had gone as he expected.
He rose, and the hall instantly fell silent.
"Good."
"Since no one objects, from this day forward, the North will speak with