The clamor of the banquet was sealed away by the thick stone walls. Beneath the First Keep, there was only the sound of the wind. It whistled through the crenellations, rolling up dead leaves and ice from the ground.
Lynn stood in the quiet shadows. The longsword in his hand reflected cold, fluid glints under the clear moonlight. He didn't practice wide, sweeping moves. Just the most basic thrusts, blocks, and dodges. He repeated every movement hundreds of times. The soreness in his muscles refined his control over this body bit by bit.
Sweat slid down Lynn's forehead, quickly dried by the cold night wind, taking away the last trace of warmth from his skin.
Footsteps approached from the distance. They were light, carrying a hint of hesitation.
Lynn paused his movements, but his grip on the sword didn't relax in the slightest. He turned around.
Jon Snow stood not far away, also holding a blunt practice sword. He wasn't wearing banquet finery, just simple black leather armor. On that handsome face that didn't belong to the Stark look, there was a loneliness that clashed with the festive atmosphere.
"I thought I was the only one here," Jon's voice was low.
Lynn sheathed his sword. "Me too."
Jon walked over and stood beside Lynn. He looked at the brightly lit tower in the night, silent for a long time.
"They are all inside," Jon's tone was flat, devoid of emotion. "Cheering, drinking, celebrating the King's arrival. And I can only stand here."
Lynn didn't speak. He knew Lady Catelyn wouldn't allow Jon at the high table. On such a grand occasion, the presence of a bastard was the greatest insult to her.
Jon smiled self-deprecatingly. "Sometimes, I really want to leave this place."
He raised his blunt sword and swung at the dummy. "Go somewhere no one knows me. Go somewhere my last name isn't Snow."
His gaze fell on Lynn. There was a questioning look in those eyes. "Tell me, is the Wall really my only destination?"
Before Lynn could answer, another voice sounded from the shadows behind them.
"The Wall isn't anyone's destination, lad."
The voice was steady, carrying the unique rasp of the North.
Lynn's pupils contracted sharply. A figure on horseback emerged from the darkness. He wore worn black clothing, had a lean build, and a face chiseled by wind and frost. Those eyes were as sharp as a hawk's.
It was Benjen Stark. Lord Ned's younger brother, First Ranger of the Night's Watch.
"Uncle Benjen!"
The loneliness on Jon's face was swept away, replaced by the surprise of seeing family. He respected Benjen just like his own father, Ned.
Benjen nodded to Jon as a greeting. His gaze, however, passed over Jon and landed directly on Lynn. It was a scrutinizing gaze, but without hostility.
"You're that crow that flew back," Benjen's tone was calm, stating a fact. "When I returned to the Wall, the Watch all said you were a deserter."
Lynn didn't defend himself. He just quietly met Benjen's gaze.
Benjen's eyes moved from Lynn's face to his hand gripping the sword hilt, and finally to the packed snow under his feet—where countless footprints from repetitive practice were left.
The corner of Benjen's mouth hooked up in a tiny arc. "A deserter wouldn't train like this. I heard about the bandits, too. You did well."
Benjen walked forward a few steps, the cold radiating from him hitting their faces. It was the chill that only comes from years spent at the Wall, soaking into the marrow.
"I've seen you fight wildlings with my own eyes; I know you're no coward. And on my ranging this time... I also saw evidence of the White Walkers."
Benjen concluded, "I'll explain everything to my brother. The Watch needs a warrior like you, not a corpse hanging on a gallows."
Lynn's heart gave a powerful thump. A warm current spread from his chest to his limbs. The First Ranger's promise. This carried more weight than any defense. It meant the sword named "Deserter" hanging over his head was finally removed.
"Thank you, my Lord." Lynn bowed slightly, his voice carrying a relief even he hadn't noticed.
"Haven't seen you in two months, and you've learned some manners," Benjen waved his hand, signaling Lynn not to stand on ceremony.
His gaze returned to Jon. "You've grown."
A smile appeared on Benjen's face. "I rode all night just so you wouldn't have to face the Lannisters' annoying feast alone. You know my brother Ned; every time he attends these boring banquets, he's like a bear trapped in a cage."
"Aren't you going inside for the feast?"
Jon smiled bitterly. "Lady Stark thinks a bastard sitting with royalty would be an insult to them."
Benjen nodded understandingly. No one knew Jon Snow's situation better than he did. He cared about Jon.
"Well, there are no such annoying restrictions on the Wall. A bastard can take a seat anytime."
Jon stood up straight. He looked at his uncle, a light burning in his grey eyes like never before.
"Then take me with you when you go back! As long as you speak to Father, he will agree! I want to be a Night's Watchman. At the Wall, birth doesn't matter. I have no family name, only brothers."
Benjen's expression didn't change. He just looked at his nephew, at his face flushed with excitement.
"You have no idea what you're saying," Benjen said. "We have no families. Once you wear the black, you can never take a wife, never father children. Do you think this is some hero's game? We face wildlings, the eternal winter, things more terrible than death."
Jon was different from when he asked Lynn last time; his eyes held unprecedented determination. "I don't care. I'm ready to swear my vows to the Night's Watch."
Lynn understood that Catelyn's actions today had deeply hurt Jon.
"You're just a boy," Benjen's tone softened a little. "When you know what it means, you'll likely regret it. Stay in Winterfell, Jon. When you're older, when you truly understand what you're giving up, come tell me these words again."
With that, Benjen stopped looking at him. He patted Lynn on the shoulder. "Kid, I'm going in first. Remember to come find me later."
Then, Benjen turned and melted back into the deep darkness.
In the courtyard, only Jon and Lynn remained. And the ceaseless wind.
Jon stood dazed in place.
After a long time, he looked up at Lynn, his voice hoarse. "Is what Uncle Benjen said true? Am I... too naive?"
Lynn looked at him. Looked at this future Lord Commander, at the vulnerability on his face that didn't match his age.
Lynn didn't comfort him. He simply said calmly, "The path is your own choice, Jon. No one can walk it for you."