The room reeked of lime and mildew.
The only window was set high up.
It was just a narrow slit, casting a pale, weak beam of light.
Lynn leaned against the corner of the wall, every muscle in his body protesting.
The weakness born of hunger and cold clung to him like a festering wound, refusing to leave.
Lynn had gambled on Ned Stark's honor and won.
He had also temporarily stabilized his situation with the omen of the Old Gods.
But this was only a delaying tactic.
One lie required countless more lies to cover it.
A prophecy, however, required an even more shocking prophecy to prove itself.
He was now like an acrobat walking a tightrope, with a bottomless abyss beneath his feet.
Any single mistake would shatter him to pieces.
He had to quickly increase his value, making Ned Stark feel that killing him would be a loss.
An incalculable loss.
Lynn's thoughts raced, piecing together fragments of memories from his previous life about this world.
The warning of the white walkers was just the beginning.
The omen of the Direwolf was the second step.
Next, he needed to drop a truly bombshell piece of news, one capable of shaking the entire North, or even all Seven Kingdoms.
A tragedy that was about to happen and could not be stopped.
The current king, Robert Baratheon, and Ned Stark had been sent to the Eyrie in the Vale as foster sons to the Lord of the Eyrie, the Lord of the Vale, when they were young.
Ned went eight years after Robert.
The two brothers spent seven years together.
This forged a deep bond between Ned and Robert.
Ned's sister, Lyanna, was even betrothed to Robert, making their ties even closer.
Their foster father, the then Lord of the Vale, was Jon Arryn.
Old Arryn was in his forties at the time, with no children of his own, so he treated Ned and Robert as his own sons.
After the Mad King's son, Rhaegar, took Robert's betrothed, Lyanna, he then killed Ned's elder brother and father.
He then demanded that old Arryn hand over Robert and Ned.
These two young men were a threat to House Targaryen.
Old Arryn naturally refused, and instead had his two foster sons initiate Robert's Rebellion.
It could be said that Arryn was Robert and Ned's benefactor.
Lynn's hopes now rested entirely on old Arryn.
A series of heavy footsteps sounded outside the door, interrupting Lynn's thoughts.
With a creak.
The heavy wooden door pushed open.
It was not a guard who entered, but an old man in a gray maester's robe.
Around his neck hung a chain made of different metals, each metal representing a branch of knowledge he had mastered.
Maester Luwin.
The "brain" of Winterfell.
He was also one of Ned Stark's most trusted advisors.
Maester Luwin's gaze was calm yet sharp, carrying the prudence of a scholar.
He did not speak immediately, but quietly observed Lynn.
From his pale face, to his worn black clothes, to the eyes that remained bright even in the dim light.
"They say you prophesied the Direwolf's appearance."
Maester Luwin's voice was gentle, betraying no emotion.
"I did not prophesy,"
Lynn's voice was a little hoarse.
"I merely interpreted the Old Gods' warning."
"The Old Gods?"
Maester Luwin chewed on the words, his gray eyebrows slightly raised.
"You claim to have seen white walkers, and now you speak of the Old Gods."
"Young man, do you know what you are saying?"
"I do."
Lynn met his gaze, unflinching.
"I know that Winter Is Coming."
Maester Luwin fell silent.
He walked to the only table in the room and set down the items he had brought.
A piece of bread, a bowl of hot soup, and a small cup of medicine.
"Lord Stark asked me to check on your health."
Maester Luwin's tone remained flat.
"He also wants to hear what else you can interpret."
Lynn did not move.
He knew that Maester Luwin's true interrogation was only just beginning.
Maester Luwin represented Ned Stark's reason and suspicion.
"Maester, do you believe in the existence of white walkers?"
Lynn countered.
"I believe in what the history books record."
Maester Luwin's reply was watertight.
"The history books say they were driven back thousands of years ago."
Lynn shook his head.
"The history books also say that Direwolves have not appeared south of the Wall for two hundred years."
Lynn's words made Maester Luwin pause.
Lynn continued.
"A she-wolf died on the road, her throat pierced by a Stag's antler, with lion's claw marks on her body."
"The Stag is Baratheon, the lion is Lannister, the wolf is Stark."
"This is no coincidence, Maester."
"This is the coming storm."
Maester Luwin turned around, looking deeply at Lynn.
"You seem to have a deep understanding of the South's heraldry."
"A Night's Watch deserter should not know these things."
Lynn's heart skipped a beat.
This was a trap.
He had acted too unlike an ordinary Night's Watchman.
"I was not born into the Night's Watch."
Lynn lowered his eyelids, his voice becoming subdued.
"Before I donned the black, I also had a family and read a few books."
This explanation was flimsy, but it was the only one.
Maester Luwin did not press the matter.
He simply pushed the cup of medicine towards Lynn.
"Drink this. It will be good for your body."
Lynn looked at the cloudy liquid in the cup, not moving.
"Maester."
His voice dropped even lower, carrying a hint of deliberately created mystery and unease.
"The Old Gods' warning extends beyond the North."
Maester Luwin's eyebrows furrowed.
"What do you mean?"
"The eye of the storm is not in Winterfell, but in King's Landing."
Lynn looked up, his eyes fixed on Maester Luwin.
"No matter how high the Harpy flies, it cannot escape the hunt of fate."
Maester Luwin's pupils suddenly contracted.
The eagle.
House Arryn of the Eyrie.
Jon Arryn.
Hand of the King.
Warden of the East.
The shared foster father of Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon.
Throughout the Seven Kingdoms, he was a symbol of stability and order.
"What exactly are you trying to say?"
Maester Luwin's voice, for the first time, held a trace of imperceptible tremor.
Lynn knew he had captured the other man's full attention.
He leaned in closer, speaking word by word in a voice only the two of them could hear.
"Lord Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King."
"He is already dead; the news simply hasn't arrived yet."
"He did not die of illness, nor of old age."
"He was murdered."
Boom!
These words struck Maester Luwin's mind like a bolt of thunder.
His face instantly turned ashen.
He instinctively took a step back, bumping into the table behind him with a clang.
"Nonsense!"
Maester Luwin lost his composure, his voice sharp with rebuke.
But the horror in his tone was impossible to conceal.
"Do you know what you are accusing? This is treason!"
"I am not accusing anyone."
Lynn leaned back against the wall.
His body trembled slightly from weakness.
But his gaze remained firm.
"I am merely conveying the warning I have seen."
"Soon, a Raven from King's Landing will bear witness for me."
"The King will travel North, inviting Lord Ned to go South and take Lord Jon Arryn's place."
"And that, is the beginning of all tragedy."
Lynn paused, his gaze fixed on Maester Luwin.
"If not handled properly, Lord Ned will also die in King's Landing!"
The room fell into a deathly silence.
Only Maester Luwin's heavy breathing remained.
He looked at Lynn as if seeing a demon crawled out of hell.
Every word this deserter spoke precisely hit the most sensitive nerves of Westeros.
From the white walkers in the North, to the conspiracies in King's Landing.
All of this far exceeded the scope of any lie a deserter could fabricate.
This was not a lie.
This was... a prophecy.
A terrifying, suffocating prophecy.
After a long while.
Maester Luwin finally found his voice.
"Who else have you told these things to?"
"Only you, Maester."
Lynn replied respectfully.
"Remember, do not tell anyone else."
Maester Luwin took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.
He picked up the bread and hot soup from the table, placing them back into Lynn's hands.
This time, his movements were no longer flat, but carried an undeniable force.
"Eat these."
"Live."
"You must live until the Raven arrives."
With that, Maester Luwin did not look at Lynn again, turning and quickly leaving the room.
The heavy wooden door closed once more.
The sound of the lock echoed in the empty corridor.
Lynn leaned against the wall, letting out a long breath.
Cold sweat had soaked his back.
He knew he had just walked along the edge of a cliff again.
But he had won his gamble.
He had thoroughly entangled his fate with Arryn's death and Ned's journey South, plunging himself into this murky situation.
Lynn picked up the bowl of now lukewarm soup and drank it in large gulps.
A warm current flowed into his stomach, dispelling some of the cold.
He had to live.
He had to become stronger as quickly as possible.
Lynn's gaze once again fell upon the panel that only he could see.
Experience Points: 0
Now, he needed to gain Ned's trust.
Only then could he regain his freedom.
Not like now, locked in this small room, unable to do anything.