The winter wind showed no sign of stopping.
Lynn was flanked by two Guards, one on each side.
He stumbled through the snow-covered land.
The icy touch of chains spread from his wrists, up his arms, and throughout his body.
With each breath, he inhaled air as sharp as a knife, stinging his lungs.
Lynn's physical condition was terrible.
As a Night's Watch deserter, the original owner had journeyed south from The Wall, already at the end of his rope.
Hunger and cold had drained his last ounce of strength.
The outburst at the execution ground had almost exhausted all of Lynn's energy.
At this moment, Lynn could only be passively dragged forward.
At the very front of the procession was Eddard Stark, the Duke of Winterfell.
He rode on a tall warhorse, his broad back as steady as a mountain.
The Valyrian greatsword named "Ice" was already sheathed, slung diagonally across his back.
But the invisible pressure still enveloped the entire group.
His sons followed behind him.
The elder Robb and Jon Snow rode side by side.
Both were conversing in low voices, their expressions serious.
Theon Greyjoy, however, seemed much more relaxed, even having the leisure to tease his horse.
The youngest, Bran Stark, was instructed by his father to ride beside him.
A trace of paleness still lingered on his tender face.
Lynn's gaze swept over the young figures, finally returning to the monotonous snowy ground before him.
He knew very well that he had only temporarily survived.
Ned Stark was no fool.
A story about Others could at most earn him an interrogation opportunity.
Once he failed to provide more valuable information, or if he was deemed to be lying.
The Valyrian greatsword named "Ice" would be placed against his neck again at any moment.
And this time, there would be no more luck.
"Bran."
Ned Stark's deep voice echoed in the wind, clearly reaching Bran's ears.
Ned did not look back, merely slowed his horse to allow his son's mount to keep pace more steadily.
"Do you understand why I brought you today?"
Bran's small hands gripped the reins tightly. He looked up at his father's profile.
"Jon said it was time for me to witness an execution."
"It's more than that."
Ned Stark's voice carried a hint of instruction.
"Do you understand why I had to execute him?"
"Because he was a Night's Watch deserter."
Bran answered quickly.
"Yes."
Duke Ned nodded slightly.
"But he was also a man."
"Our laws are ancient; deserters must be executed."
"I never enjoy this process, Bran."
"But my duty does not allow me to shrink back."
Ned's gaze stretched towards the distant grey-white horizon.
"He who passes the sentence should swing the sword."
"If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his last words."
"If you cannot, then perhaps he does not deserve to die."
These words were not only for Bran but for every Stark descendant behind him.
"Bran, you must remember, one day you will be Robb's vassal."
"You will govern your own lands for your brother and the King, and upholding the law is something you must do."
"At that time, you must never kill for pleasure, nor shirk responsibility."
"Face it, never run away!"
"Otherwise, you will quickly lose reverence for life."
This was the law of House Stark.
It was the law of the North.
Lynn listened in silence.
He knew this conversation.
This was Ned Stark's introductory lesson on honor and duty for his children.
A man so noble he was almost pedantic.
But precisely because of this, he had won his gamble.
Bran was silent for a moment, seemingly digesting his father's words.
But his young mind was clearly not yet able to fully grasp the heavy meaning behind them.
What he cared about more was something else.
"Father."
Bran's voice carried the curiosity unique to children, and a hint of undisguised fear.
"What that deserter said... is it true?"
"The Others... do they really exist?"
As this question left his mouth, the atmosphere of the group instantly became somewhat subtle.
Robb and Jon stopped talking, both looking over.
Even Theon Greyjoy's flippancy receded a bit.
Everyone's gaze, intentionally or not, fell upon the prisoner being escorted at the end of the procession.
Lynn kept his head down, as if unaware of these gazes.
Eddard Stark did not answer for a long time.
The wind and snow whipped his cloak, making it flap loudly.
"A long time ago, in the Age of Heroes, the Long Night fell."
He finally spoke, his voice distant and deep.
"The First Men fought alongside the Children of the Forest to drive those things back to the eternal winter lands of the far North."
"Brandon Stark built The Wall, and the Night's Watch was established to guard against their return."
"These are stories written in history books."
Bran's eyes lit up for a moment, but then quickly dimmed.
"So, they are just stories, right?"
Eddard Stark fell silent.
He could not give a definitive answer.
As Warden of the North, he knew the weight of those ancient legends better than anyone.
The North was different from the warm South.
Here, people revered the Old Gods and believed in the existence of magic.
"We haven't seen the Others in thousands of years."
Ned finally said.
This answer was ambiguous, neither affirming nor denying.
But the gravity it contained made Bran's young heart feel a pang of unease.
Just then, Jon Snow, who was leading the way, suddenly reined in his horse.
"My Lord!"
His voice held a hint of surprise.
The entire group stopped.
Lynn was pushed by the Guards and also stopped.
He looked up, following Jon's gaze forward.
In the snow not far away, lay a huge black shadow.
It was the corpse of a beast.
Its size far exceeded that of an ordinary wolf, almost as large as a small pony.
Its dark grey fur was stained with congealed black blood, and a broken piece of antler was deeply impaled in its throat.
A fatal wound.
"We actually found a Direwolf!"
Robb Stark's voice was filled with shock.
Ned also turned sharply to look at Lynn.
He quickly dismounted and went to examine the wolf's corpse.