Frostheart Grass

The morning wind carried shards of ice as it swept over the battlements of Castle Black.

The heavy iron gate slowly rose to the groaning creak of the winch.

A deep, dark tunnel opened before them.

At its far end lay endless white.

Benjen Stark sat astride his warhorse, dressed all in black.

He looked back, his gaze settling on Jon.

There was worry in his eyes, but hope as well.

"Take care of yourself."

The wind scattered Benjen's words.

Jon nodded firmly, his lips pressed tight.

Benjen turned his gaze to Lynn.

"There's more than Wildlings beyond the Wall."

"There are older things, too."

"Don't let your guard down."

Lynn met his eyes and gave a slight nod.

"Understood."

The two parties went their separate ways at the tunnel entrance.

Benjen led his band of rangers northeast toward the Frostfangs.

They were going to investigate rumors that the King Beyond the Wall, Mance Rayder, was gathering the tribes.

Lynn, meanwhile, led his hundred elite soldiers from the North due north.

Their destination was the Haunted Forest.

Arya stood atop the Wall, her small figure bundled in a thick fur cloak.

She watched Lynn's party disappear into the wind and snow, until even the last black speck vanished.

The girl's eyes reddened.

Tyrion stood a short distance away.

He gazed out over the boundless snowfield, an unreadable flicker crossing his mismatched eyes.

Hooves crunched dully through the deep snow.

A deathly silence surrounded them.

Only the wind moaned as it passed between the bare tree trunks.

The Haunted Forest.

The trees here were ancient and twisted.

Icicles hung thick on their black trunks.

They refracted a chilling light beneath the gray-white sky.

Lynn reined in, and the party stopped.

He dismounted and crouched down.

A trail of scattered footprints marked the snow.

The prints sank deep.

Whoever had left them had been in a hurry.

"Wildlings."

Torrhen came over as well, pinching a little snow between his fingers.

"Judging by the tracks, no more than half a day ago."

Lynn stood and looked deeper into the forest.

"My lord, should we head straight in?"

A guard asked in a low voice, his hand already resting on his sword hilt.

"No."

Lynn shook his head.

He looked at the twenty archers in his party.

"We're the hunters."

"Surround them quietly."

"Don't make a sound."

"Wait for my signal."

The party instantly broke into smaller groups.

They slipped soundlessly into the black-and-white forest.

Every soldier moved lightly and swiftly.

Using trees and rocks for cover, they crept toward their target.

Lynn led the way.

His sword remained sheathed.

Instead, he carried a Yew Longbow chosen from the armory at Castle Black.

Every arrowhead in his quiver had been coated with a paralyzing poison prepared by Maester Aemon.

Before long.

A small forest clearing came into view.

Eight Wildlings dressed in animal skins sat around a campfire.

Their weapons were crude stone axes and bone spears.

One Wildling who appeared to be their leader was handing dried meat to the others.

Lynn felt no pity.

He slowly raised his longbow.

He drew the bowstring back to its fullest extent.

The cold arrowhead aimed at the Wildlings Chieftain distributing the food.

Lynn released his fingers.

Whoosh!

A faint hiss cut through the air.

The arrow tore through the silent forest like black lightning.

The Wildlings Chieftain's body jolted.

He looked down in disbelief at the arrow that had pierced his chest.

His mouth opened and closed, but all strength had left his body.

His vitality was remarkable; the arrow did not kill him at once, though he collapsed heavily to the ground.

The other Wildlings leaped up in terror.

Before they could react.

A rain of arrows came whistling in from every direction.

Thud!

Squelch!

The sounds of arrows piercing flesh came in rapid succession.

The screams cut short.

The entire thing took fewer than ten breaths.

The fight was already over.

Only eight arrow-riddled corpses remained in the clearing.

And the flickering campfire.

[8 enemies killed. Experience Points +10]

The system's notification sounded in Lynn's mind.

Lynn lowered his longbow.

"Go check."

"Finish them off, then gather the spoils."

Torrhen led several guards cautiously into the clearing.

They drove their sword tips into each Wildling's heart to make certain they were dead.

The spoils were pitiful.

A few ragged animal skins and shoddily made weapons.

And some moldy food.

Nothing of any value.

"My lord, this Wildling has something on him."

A guard pulled a small pouch sewn from an unknown animal's hide from inside the Wildlings Chieftain's clothing.

The pouch was old.

Strange symbols had been painted on it in red dye.

Lynn walked over.

He took the pouch and opened it.

A fresh scent of earth and greenery wafted toward him.

Inside lay the rhizome of a plant.

It was an eerie blood-red from end to end.

Silver-threaded markings covered its surface.

Under the gray-white daylight, it seemed to pulse faintly, giving off a soft glow.

Lynn's pupils contracted sharply.

Maester Aemon's words from their conversation in his room flashed through his mind.

"In the far north, certain plants grow that have been blessed by the Old Gods."

"They draw upon the purest power of the earth, ice, and snow."

"One is called frostheart grass. Its rhizome is blood-red, with silver veins."

"Eating it can increase your strength."

Lynn's fingers trembled slightly.

He stared at the blood-red rhizome in his hand, his heart racing despite himself.

Frostheart grass.

A miraculous herb that could improve his physique!

Lynn did not hesitate.

He put the frostheart grass into his mouth.

The rhizome touched his tongue.

A pungent juice burst forth.

It was like swallowing a mouthful of burning liquor.

A scorching current burned down Lynn's throat and into his stomach.

Then.

Lynn's body began to tremble uncontrollably.

He felt as though every muscle in his body was tearing apart.

His skin grew searing hot, as if it were about to catch fire.

The intense pain almost made Lynn cry out.

But he clenched his teeth.

Sweat instantly soaked his clothes.

"My lord, what's wrong?"

Torrhen noticed something was amiss and hurried over.

He saw Lynn's flushed face, trembling body, and the veins bulging on his forehead.

"I'm fine."

Lynn forced the words through clenched teeth.

The savage heat surged wildly through his body.

About a quarter of an hour passed.

Only then did the burning pain gradually subside.

In its place came a feeling of immense strength.

Lynn could feel explosive power coursing through every muscle in his body.

Just then.

A voice only he could hear sounded in his mind.

[You have consumed an Old Gods' blessed item, frostheart grass. Your physical attributes have been permanently enhanced. Further consumption of frostheart grass will have no effect. Please seek other blessed items.]

[Strength: 5 (4%) → 6 (28%)]

So this was what the system meant by blessed items?

Another way to increase my attributes!

Lynn slowly exhaled a breath of white mist.

He spread his hand, then clenched it hard.

Crack.

His knuckles gave a series of sharp pops.

A surging sense of power flowed from his palm.

This really was a treasure trove.