Rooting out the bandits

Early the next morning.

The wooden door opened with a jerky creak, as though its hinges had not moved in ages.

A shaft of gray-white light pierced the room, dispelling the cold gloom that had settled inside.

Lynn narrowed his eyes, adjusting to the light he had not seen in so long.

"Come out."

The guard's voice held no emotion. He was merely carrying out an order.

Lynn was not taken back to the execution block, nor was he marched into a deeper dungeon.

He was brought to the castle courtyard.

Biting air filled his lungs, carrying the echoes of clashing metal and the rich, charred scent of roasting meat from the distant kitchens.

Those vivid sensations made him feel as though he had returned from another lifetime.

Lynn's body was recovering.

The energy from hot soup and bread was slowly restoring this shell hollowed out by hunger and cold.

Two guards stood behind him like sentinels, neither too close nor too far away.

Their presence was both supervision and a silent warning.

Lynn was allowed to move only within this small section of the courtyard.

His gaze swept across his surroundings.

Not far away, Winterfell's heir, Robb Stark, was sparring with the master-at-arms, Ser Rodrik.

Their wooden swords struck each other with dull thuds.

Robb's movements were steady and powerful, precise and methodical, revealing a seriousness beyond his years.

Off to one side, Theon Greyjoy was practicing archery.

He cut a dashing figure, and every arrow drew quiet cheers from the servants around him.

Yet his eyes kept straying toward Robb, betraying a competitive streak he could not quite hide.

Sansa Stark was learning embroidery.

Arya Stark's stitching, meanwhile, was a complete mess.

Everything brimmed with life.

It was the rough, resilient vitality of the North.

Lynn strolled over to Ser Rodrik to watch the two spar.

Ser Rodrik was an experienced teacher, always able to pinpoint the flaws in Robb's technique.

No wonder he had trained young men as skilled with a sword as Robb and Jon.

Seeing Lynn standing nearby, "stealing lessons," Ser Rodrik did not chase him away. Instead, he stopped and beckoned.

"Boy, you've been watching long enough. If you want to learn, come over. What are you skulking around for?"

It was the gruff directness typical of the North.

Lynn did not stand on ceremony. He walked straight over.

"Ser, I'd like to learn to use a two-handed sword. Could you teach me?"

Ser Rodrik looked a little surprised.

He looked Lynn up and down, then stepped forward to squeeze his arms and shoulders before finally shaking his head.

"With your build, a one-handed sword would suit you well enough. You're not quite ready to learn the Two-Handed Greatsword. Even if you can swing one, I doubt you could bring out its proper power. Don't reach beyond yourself. Start with the basics."

Lynn had already mastered the one-handed sword and had no interest in learning it again. He persisted.

"Ser, I'd still like to see your greatsword technique."

Seeing how determined Lynn was, Rodrik scratched his thick white beard, looking troubled.

At that moment, Robb spoke up from beside them, panting as he leaned on his iron sword.

"Ser Rodrik, if he wants to learn, show him a couple of moves. Once he runs into a wall, he'll settle down."

With the Young Wolf having spoken, Ser Rodrik no longer hesitated.

He took a heavy two-handed training greatsword from the weapon rack and tossed it to Lynn.

"Hold it steady."

Clang!

Lynn reached out with both hands to catch it, but he had underestimated its weight. The greatsword nearly slipped from his grasp, and the jolt left his wrists numb.

Rodrik looked surprised.

"I didn't expect you to have some foundation already. Very well, I'll teach you."

"Though at your current level, it'll still be a struggle."

The greatsword felt cold and rough in his hands. Its entire weight bore down on Lynn's forearms, making him feel less like he was holding a sword than carrying an iron pillar.

Ser Rodrik shook his head and effortlessly took the greatsword from Lynn.

Rodrik was very strong. Lynn estimated his strength at eight points, thanks to his burly physique. He handled the heavy weapon with ease.

"Watch closely, boy."

"The essence of the greatsword lies in brute strength and momentum!"

"Of course, there's not much room for fancy tricks with this thing."

As soon as he finished speaking, Ser Rodrik lowered his body slightly, twisted at the waist, and let his arms follow through.

The heavy blade sliced through the air with a deep whoosh!

There were no flashy movements, only a simple horizontal sweep. Yet it carried an unstoppable force, as though it could cut everything before him in two.

"Every swing must draw on the rotation of your body. Use your waist and abdomen to drive your shoulders, then pass that force into your arms, and only then into the sword."

"You have a little core strength, but with that frame of yours, you can barely drive the blade. You'll only end up letting the sword drag you around."

Ser Rodrik handed the sword back to Lynn.

"Try again."

Lynn copied his stance, lowering his center of gravity and trying to twist through his waist.

But the sword was simply too heavy. Though Lynn imitated Rodrik's movements, his swing was weak and utterly devoid of momentum, more like he was flinging a wooden post.

Robb kept shaking his head as he watched, but there was no mockery in his eyes. Instead, a strange look crept into them.

The lad actually managed to swing it.

Well, now. He's got something to him.

He kept musing to himself.

If Lynn were a little stronger, he might actually be able to use a greatsword!

Just as Lynn was struggling to grasp the "momentum" Rodrik had described, a cold notification sounded in his mind.

[Ding! Learnable skill detected: Two-Handed Greatsword]

[Learning requirement: strength ≥ 7]

[Your current strength attribute is insufficient. You cannot master this skill.]

Lynn's movements faltered.

Not enough strength...

Even learning skills came with requirements?

That made sense. If learning a skill let him ignore his physical limitations and use it in actual combat, this system would be far too overpowered.

It was not time yet. Rodrik was not going anywhere, after all. Lynn set down the greatsword and gave Ser Rodrik a sincere bow.

"Thank you for your guidance, ser."

Though all that effort had not earned him a skill, it had given him a new understanding of how to apply strength.

More importantly, he had found a clear short-term goal.

The boy might overestimate himself, but at least his attitude was sound.

Meanwhile, Robb walked over with his sword resting on his shoulder and patted Lynn's shoulder, curiosity showing on his face.

"How did it feel? Still want to learn?"

"I wanted to learn once, too. Ended up just like you."

Robb was friendly and did not look down on Lynn for being a deserter. He was sincere and straightforward.

Lynn grinned, showing a mouthful of white teeth.

"Of course. If I get the chance, I'll certainly ask Ser Rodrik for more guidance."

Rodrik nodded in agreement.

The lad Lynn seemed quite talented, and Rodrik was not a stingy man. He spoke at once.

"Boy, if you want to learn in the future, just come find me. As long as I have time, I'll teach you. But you'd better build up that body of yours before you come."

Just then, hurried hoofbeats shattered the courtyard's peace.

A messenger covered in snow and frost rushed through the castle gates.

He stumbled as he dismounted, his face full of alarm.

"My lord!"

He rushed toward Ned Stark, who was watching his sons train.

Robb and Ser Rodrik stopped sparring.

Theon lowered the longbow in his hands as well.

Everyone's eyes settled on the messenger.

"Another caravan..."

The messenger kept his voice low.

But in the silent courtyard, a few words still drifted on the wind into Lynn's ears.

"The White Knife River..."

"...not a single survivor."

Ned Stark's previously calm face instantly hardened with icy anger.

The air around him suddenly grew heavy.

"This is a challenge to the North!"

Anger filled Robb's young face, and his hand tightened around the hilt of his wooden sword.

"Father, let me go!"

"Nothing but a pack of rats hiding in the gutters."

Theon Greyjoy walked over, a hint of bloodthirsty excitement on his face.

"Leave it to me, my lord. I promise I'll hang their heads from the walls."

Ned ignored them.

He merely gave the captain of the guard beside him a brief order.

"Gather the men."

"Wipe them out."

The captain bowed in acknowledgment and immediately turned to carry out the order.

Ned then turned to Robb.

"Come with me."

He was taking him into the council chamber.

It was a clear signal.

Winterfell's Young Wolf was about to formally take part in a military operation to root out threats in the North for the first time.

The group strode toward the main keep.

Only Lynn remained in the courtyard, watched by his two guards.

Lynn's heart began to pound hard.

Not from fear.

But from an irrepressible... desire.

The Enemy-Killing System.

To gain experience, he had to kill enemies.

And now, enemies had appeared.

They were not nobles or soldiers, only a band of lawless brigands.

Killing them would cause no trouble and bring no family seeking revenge.

They were perfect experience points.

This was his chance.

His only chance to shed his status as a prisoner and truly take control of his fate!

When Ned, Robb, and the others emerged from the main keep with grave expressions, Lynn moved.

He took a step forward.

The guards behind him immediately reached out and seized his shoulders.

"Halt!"

"Let him speak."

Ned Stark's voice rang out.

He stopped and turned around.

His gray eyes were like deep pools as he quietly regarded Lynn.

The guards released their grip.

Under everyone's gaze, Lynn straightened his shabby black clothes and bowed slightly.

"My lord."

Lynn's voice was not loud, but it was exceptionally clear.

"You spared my life. I have no way to repay that kindness."

Theon Greyjoy let out a derisive snort.

"A deserter knows how to repay a debt?"

Lynn ignored him and simply looked at Ned.

"Prophecies are words on the wind. Time will prove everything in the end."

"But right now, loyalty must be proven through action."

Lynn's gaze shifted to the guards assembling nearby, to their sharp blades and cold armor.

"I hear bandits have been ravaging your lands and slaughtering your people."

"They threaten the safety of the North. They are enemies of the entire North."

Lynn raised his head and looked Ned Stark straight in the eyes.

"I am no knight, nor do I hold a title."

"But before I took the black, I, too, fought men to stay alive."

"Please allow me to join the force sent to wipe them out."

"Let me wash away my shame with those bandits' blood and prove my worth."

"I owe you my life, and you can take it back at any time."

"But first, please let me fight for the North."

Silence fell over the courtyard.

Everyone stared at Lynn in disbelief.

A prisoner who had been pleading for his life at the execution block just moments ago was now volunteering to face vicious bandits.

Robb's face was full of surprise.

Theon's lips curled in mockery, as though he were watching a madman who had no idea of his own limitations.

Maester Luwin stood behind Ned, his gray brows tightly knitted.

Ned Stark remained silent for a long time.

He simply watched Lynn.

He studied his pale face, his worn clothes, and his eyes, which still burned with fire in the cold winds of the North.

This man was full of mysteries.

By the North's code of honor, his request actually sounded somewhat... noble.

To wash away the shame of being a deserter with the blood of his enemies.

To prove his loyalty through action.

That was very much the way of the North.

And very much... the Stark way.

"What makes you think you're worthy?"

Ned finally spoke, his voice cold.

Lynn answered quickly.

"If I die at the bandits' hands, you'll have one less problem."

"If I survive and kill the enemy, then I'll have proven I'm not some useless fool who does nothing but talk."

Ned's gaze lingered on his face for a long time.

So long that Lynn could almost hear his heart pounding against his ribs.

"Hollen."

Ned called the captain of the guard by name.

"Give him a sword."

The captain froze for a moment, but immediately bowed.

"Yes, my lord."

Ned's gaze returned to Lynn.

"You'll go with Robb's men."

"Don't disappoint me."

With that, Ned Stark turned and strode away.

In Lynn's vision, the blue panel seemed to brighten a little.

[Name: Lynn]

[Strength: 5 (Average adult: 3)]

[Agility: 5 (Average adult: 3)]

[Constitution: 5 (Average adult: 3)]

After a night's rest, his body had fully recovered to peak condition!

Even among veteran men of the Night's Watch, these attributes were quite good, placing him above average.

Killing a few bandits who were ordinary men, some of whom could not even wield their weapons properly, would be easy.