Lynn was in his room, studying the human skin map.
The map's material was very special; it wasn't parchment or paper, but a piece of human skin, tanned extremely thin.
The lines on it were crude and impressionistic, clearly drawn by someone not skilled in painting.
But the blood-red eye symbol was drawn with unusual clarity.
It seemed to possess a mysterious power, capable of firmly captivating one's gaze.
"What kind of place could this be?"
Lynn's finger gently traced the symbol.
A holy site of the Old Gods?
A ruin left by the Children of the Forest?
Whichever possibility, it was filled with a fatal allure.
He knew that Lord Commander Mormont sending him to find this place was a test, and even more, a massive gamble.
If they won, the Night's Watch might collectively grow stronger, which was crucial for fighting the Others.
If they lost, the expeditionary force would forever vanish in the icy wilderness beyond the Wall.
Lynn liked this kind of gamble, and clearly, he wasn't the only one.
At least Mormont was the same.
Instead of fear, a strong sense of excitement surged within Lynn.
He carefully rolled up the map and tucked it close to his body.
Then, he picked up the valyrian steel dagger.
The cold dragonbone hilt perfectly fit his palm.
He slowly drew the dagger; the peculiar, flowing ripples on its blade shimmered with a mysterious luster in the dim room.
This was a perfect killing tool.
Light, sharp, and possessing deadly lethality against the Others.
But it was too short.
On a real battlefield, facing enemies wielding long-handled weapons, the dagger's limitations were too great.
He still needed a true main weapon.
A longsword... also forged from valyrian steel.
The shadow of longclaw appeared in Lynn's mind.
He knew that sword was in Castle Black, in Mormont's hands.
He also knew that he had already paved all the roads to obtain that sword last night.
Now, all he had to do was wait.
"Knock, knock."
A steady knock sounded at the door.
"Come in."
Lynn sheathed the dagger and looked up.
The door was pushed open.
Jeor Mormont walked in, carrying a long, rectangular wooden box.
Lynn's heart gave a sudden leap.
He's here!
His face, however, remained impassive; he stood up from the bed and bowed slightly.
"Lord Commander."
Mormont placed the wooden box he was holding on the only table in the room.
The box, having been undisturbed for years, made a dull thud, stirring up a cloud of dust.
Mormont said nothing, merely gazing at Lynn.
In his sharp eyes was a complex emotion Lynn had never seen before.
There was admiration, gratitude, reliance, and a hint of... the expectation a father holds for his son.
The atmosphere in the room was somewhat heavy.
"Lynn."
After a long silence, Mormont finally spoke, breaking the quiet.
"I know my decision last night put you at great risk."
He was referring to not burning the bodies directly but bringing them back to the castle.
"You are the Lord Commander; your decisions require no explanation to me."
Lynn replied calmly.
"No."
Mormont shook his head.
"A good leader not only gives orders but also knows how to admit his mistakes."
He took a deep breath, as if to expel all the pent-up frustration in his chest.
"If I had fully followed your advice last night, perhaps what happened afterward wouldn't have occurred."
"I... almost killed myself."
"But you ultimately made the correct preparations, didn't you?"
Lynn looked at him and said.
"You kept the bodies separate and ensured everyone had their weapons on them."
"This minimized casualties to the greatest extent."
A bitter smile appeared on Mormont's face.
"You don't need to comfort me, child."
"I know I was bound by those damned rules and traditions."
"And you, you made me see how vulnerable those so-called traditions are in the face of true darkness."
Mormont turned sideways.
He reached out and gently stroked the dusty wooden box on the table.
"I thought for a long time last night."
Mormont's voice slowly echoed in the silent room, carrying a sense of relief.
"I was wondering why I put on this black uniform and came to this godforsaken place."
He wasn't looking at Lynn.
His gaze seemed to penetrate the thick stone walls, looking toward the distant South, his home that he could never return to.
"Bear Island, that's my home."
"Though it's not large or wealthy, its people are brave and loyal."
"The women of House Mormont, like the men, are born warriors."
"They will defend their home with their lives."
Lynn listened quietly, without interrupting.
He knew the old man needed a listener.
"I once had a son, Jorah."
Mormont's voice became a little hoarse.
"He was my son, and the rightful heir to Bear Island."
"I had high hopes for him, believing he could bring glory to House Mormont."
"I passed this sword on to him."
Mormont's hand slapped heavily on the wooden box.
"This is longclaw, our family's ancestral Valyrian steel sword."
"I thought he would, like me, like all our ancestors, wield it to defend the North, to defend our home."
"But he disappointed me."
Mormont's fist clenched on the wooden box.
"For a woman, a woman who only loved money and vanity, he abandoned everything we stood for."
"He trafficked slaves, violating the kingdom's strictest laws."
"When the judgment reached Bear Island, he, like a coward, fled."
"He fled across the Narrow Sea, leaving shame for me, for all of House Mormont!"
At this point, Mormont's body trembled slightly.
His old eyes were filled with pain and anger.
And Bear Island, because of his departure, was upheld only by two women, Maege Mormont and Lyanna Mormont... Everyone said the women of House Mormont were no less than men, but he knew how difficult that was... Perhaps he shouldn't have come here in the first place... Mormont's thoughts returned, he took a deep breath, calming his emotions.
"Later, he left this sword behind."
"He said nothing, but I knew he had given up."
"He gave up Bear Island, he gave up the name Mormont, and he gave up his right to be my son."
Mormont unlatched the wooden box.
With a creak.
The lid was slowly lifted.
An ancient and magnificent longsword lay quietly on the dark red velvet lining.
At the end of the hilt, the silver-carved bear's head still gleamed with a cold luster in the dim light.
"Since then, it has been locked away here by me."
"I am no longer worthy to possess it."
"What right does a father who cannot even raise his own son well, a coward who fled to the Wall because of his son's shame, have to wear this sword that represents honor?"
"It should belong to a true warrior!"
Mormont turned around, his sharp eyes fixed on Lynn.
That gaze was as burning as the flames in a hearth.
"Lynn."
"Last night, you saved my life."
"Today, you have shown the entire Night's Watch a direction."
"You are brave, fearless, calm, and possess the determination to fight the darkness."
"You are a hundred, a thousand times better than my useless son!"
Mormont's voice became firm and powerful, filled with an undeniable resolve.
"This sword should not be gathering dust here!"
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