The door was gently pushed open.
A faint creak, exceptionally clear in the silent room.
Lynn did not turn his head.
He sat shirtless on a low stool in front of the fireplace, letting the warm firelight lick at his scarred skin.
The air was filled with a mix of herbs and blood.
Arya slipped in silently, then quickly closed the door.
She stood behind the door, her small hands tightly clutching the hem of her clothes, her grey eyes in the dim light fixed on Lynn's back.
His broad back was crisscrossed with over a dozen purplish bruises.
One particularly severe wound stretched from his left shoulder to his waist.
It was roughly stitched together with coarse thread.
Like an ugly centipede, it lay on his firm muscles.
That was left by a Night's Watchman wielding a warhammer in the last match of the afternoon.
Arya's nose stung, and her eyes instantly reddened.
She quickly walked to Lynn's side, watching him clumsily apply a dark ointment given by Aemon to a wound under his ribs with a piece of linen cloth.
"You're a fool!"
Arya's voice was tearful, angry and anxious.
Lynn's movement of applying the medicine paused.
He turned his head and saw Arya biting her lip, stubbornly refusing to let her tears fall.
She looked like a small wolf, angered but unsure what to do.
Arya snatched the ointment from Lynn and began to apply it to his sword wounds.
"Why are you trying so hard?"
"You've already defeated them!"
"You've already proven yourself!"
Arya's voice grew louder, with a tremor she herself hadn't noticed.
In her heart, Lynn was already the greatest hero in Westeros.
And he was also very intelligent.
Lynn didn't need to prove anything to anyone.
Especially not to those 'crows' with their foul mouths and muddy eyes.
"Lynn, I am a daughter of House Stark."
"As long as I speak, Lord Commander Mormont will surely let you leave!"
"He swore an oath of fealty to my father, to House Stark!"
Lynn said nothing, merely looking at Arya quietly.
The firelight flickered in the depths of his eyes, reflecting the girl's small face, filled with heartache and grievance.
Lynn reached out, wanting to ruffle her head.
But seeing his hands covered in ointment and blood, he pulled them back.
"Arya."
Lynn's voice was very gentle.
"I'm not doing this to prove anything."
He pressed Arya onto a nearby stool, and they both turned to face the warm fireplace.
Lynn's gaze passed through the flickering flames, as if seeing a distant place.
"If I can't even leave the small Castle Black."
Lynn's tone paused.
"How will I ever return to Winterfell openly..."
"...and marry you?"
The room instantly fell into dead silence.
Only the faint crackling of pine wood burning in the fireplace remained.
Arya froze completely.
She stared blankly at Lynn's profile.
His face, sharply defined by the firelight, now appeared incredibly serious.
To... marry... marry me?
These two words, like two bolts of thunder, exploded in Arya's small head.
She had considered many possibilities.
She thought Lynn was doing it for honor, for freedom, or even to prove his capabilities to Ned Stark.
But she had never imagined.
Every drop of blood Lynn shed in the courtyard, every wound he received, was for her.
For a promise so distant, yet so solemn.
With a "Waaah" sound.
Arya could no longer hold back and burst into tears.
Tears, like a breached dam, streamed down her delicate cheeks.
But this time, it wasn't out of heartache.
Nor was it out of grievance.
Instead, it was an emotion that made her heart tremble violently, something inexpressible in words.
She lunged forward, hugging Lynn tightly from behind.
Her small arms, using all their strength.
As if to press herself into Lynn's body.
She buried her face deeply into Lynn's back.
Hot tears soaked the bandages wrapped around Lynn's back.
Lynn's body stiffened slightly.
His wounds were touched by the girl's embrace, sending a sharp sting through him.
But he did not move.
He simply let the girl hold him, feeling her body tremble, listening to her suppressed sobs.
Lynn's purpose was not just for this.
It was just the most appropriate thing to say to Arya.
In Westeros, where male chauvinism ran rampant, Arya had never heard such a thing.
She was almost moved to tears.
After a long while.
Arya's crying gradually stopped.
She let go and walked from behind Lynn to stand in front of him.
Her eyes, red and swollen from crying, shone astonishingly in the firelight.
She stood on tiptoe, stretched out her small hand, and haphazardly wiped away the tears from her face with her sleeve.
Then, in an incredibly solemn tone, she said to Lynn.
"I'll wait for you."
After speaking, Arya suddenly noticed that there were others in Lynn's room!
Two Guards were standing in the shadows, looking at them with an indescribable smile.
Arya felt her face flush.
She quickly covered her face, turned, and ran out of the room.
Leaving Lynn alone, sitting quietly in the firelight.
He lowered his head, looking at his hands, calloused from repeatedly gripping a sword.
A slow smile curved his lips.
The night deepened.
The castle fell completely silent.
Only the wind remained, like a ghostly wail.
Lynn lay on the bed, his breathing steady, seemingly fast asleep.
The door to the room was silently pushed open a crack by a dark figure.
A man dressed in black, like a civet cat, slipped in without a sound.
In his hand, he held a dagger.
The dagger gleamed with a faint white light in the weak moonlight filtering through the window.
The dark figure approached the bed step by step.
He looked at the sleeping figure on the bed, a sinister killing intent flashing in his eyes.
He raised the dagger high.
Just as he was about to strike.
Two figures suddenly burst out of the shadows in the corner of the room.
They were Stark Guards.
They didn't even make a sound.
A steel knife cleanly slit the assassin's throat from behind.
Another longsword, from the side, pierced his heart.
"Splurt."
Warm blood gushed out.
The assassin's body stiffened.
He lowered his head in disbelief, looking at the sword tip that had pierced his chest.
A gurgling sound came from his throat.
Then, he softly collapsed.
The entire process was as quick as lightning.
Giving the assassin no chance to react.
On the bed.
Lynn slowly opened his eyes.
He sat up, looking at the still twitching corpse on the floor.
"Someone actually dared to assassinate me?"
Lynn also found it somewhat unbelievable.
And it was at this moment.
A voice, audible only to Lynn, sounded in his mind.
["Your soldier killed 1 enemy, experience +2"]
["Current experience: 2"]
Lynn's body trembled violently.
His pupils contracted to their extreme in an instant.
It wasn't him who killed the person.
It was Toren and the others who killed the person.
Could it... also increase his experience?
It was as if thunder exploded in Lynn's mind.
He abruptly looked up at the two Guards who had returned to the shadows.
Looking at the unwavering loyalty in their eyes.
He remembered what Ned Stark had told him in Winterfell.
"This hundred-man squad is yours to command."
"They obey only you."
So that was it.
So, as long as they were completely his people.
The enemies they killed, the experience, would also be counted towards him!
An inexpressible surge of ecstasy instantly swept over Lynn.
His biggest limitation had been broken.
He no longer needed to do everything himself.
He could completely build an army loyal to him.
An army... that could infinitely farm experience for him!
This world, from this moment on, truly became interesting.
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