The rain fell all night, accompanied by fierce gusts of wind.The gale grew stronger and stronger—by the latter half of the night, Lynn could hear the mournful howling of the hurricane outside even from inside his bedroom.
In the morning, the storm raged on for another three hours before finally beginning to subside. Not long after, the wind died down completely, but the torrential rain didn't stop until noon.
Lynn sent out several groups to scout the area around the grounded ships.
The reports they brought back were all the same.
The three ships were deathly silent.Not a single sound.
Lynn was certain that the blue-eyed monsters couldn't swim. Unless the wights had somehow grown wings, there was no way they could leave the stranded vessels.
After lunch, Lynn decided to muster the troops and personally go take a look.
Countess Flint also intended to contribute. She dispatched her twelve personal guards—and even entrusted Little Pepper Vayne to Lynn.
She said, "Vayne's swordsmanship is excellent. She'll protect you just as she protects me."
Lynn was skeptical. He trusted his Dragoon Regiment—now upgraded to level-two soldiers—far more.
Besides, he was fully prepared. At his waist hung a Valyrian steel dagger. On his body, he wore the armor left behind by his father, whom he had never even met—the only full suit of knightly armor in Fishing Village Port, forged entirely from fine steel.
Even though the armor had been carefully designed, with silk padding in the boots and belt, it was still far from comfortable.
Still, he didn't refuse the Countess's goodwill.
Vayne followed behind him, eyeing the armor that was clearly a size too large and obviously not custom-made. It looked a bit awkward.
At the very least, it couldn't compare to the imposing presence of a truly majestic knight.
"Move out."
Lynn led a force of one hundred men out through the city gates. He didn't care much about appearances—armor was meant to protect, nothing more.
Walking north along the coastline for a short while, the three towering Iron Islands twin-masted longships came into view. Shallow water separated them from the boarding point; one had to wade through the sea to reach the hulls.
Lynn had no intention of soaking himself in freezing seawater again.
What's more, wearing armor made swimming impossible.
At this moment, the sea had already calmed.
As the tide receded, several corpses from yesterday's battle were left scattered along the sandy shore. Fragments of shattered ships had also been washed up by the waves.
The surrounding area was a complete mess.
Lynn had prepared thoroughly. He ordered several small boats to be rowed over.
The first group of soldiers to board carried prepared torches. The moment they stepped onto the ship, they would light them—just in case.
Their task was to clear the deck of the first ship.
Only after confirming it was safe would the rest of the troops follow.
Not long after, a shout rang out from the ironborn ship.
Lynn was about to board a skiff when Vayne grabbed his shoulder.
"Are you sure you're going in yourself? It's very dangerous."
Lynn waved his hand dismissively."The Countess sent you to protect me—not to give advice."
With that, ignoring the Little Pepper swordsman's indignant expression, he stepped onto the skiff.
What a joke. His main system quest was very likely here. If he didn't complete it, there wouldn't be any new quests afterward. He couldn't exactly wait a few years until the White Walker army finished gathering at the Wall, then face a hundred thousand wights and gamble on luck, could he?
Vayne was angry—but there was nothing she could do except stomp her foot and follow.
A twin-masted square-rigged ship, aside from the captain and first mate, required at least twenty sailors to operate. Hoisting and lowering sails, dropping and raising anchor—all of it demanded coordinated effort from several men.
Under normal circumstances, long-distance merchant ships also carried an additional twenty or thirty armed guards to defend against the many pirates at sea.
For a great lord like those of the Iron Islands, ensuring the safety of large shipments meant even more manpower. It was not unusual for a hundred men to be crammed onto a single ship.
Climbing up the rope ladder, Lynn stepped onto the deck.
The surroundings were eerily empty. Aside from several ballistae wrecked by the storm, overturned and scattered across the deck, there wasn't a single figure in sight.
The Dragoon Regiment searched the entire upper deck, confirming there were no blue-eyed monsters.
One by one, their gazes turned toward the hatch leading to the lower deck.
The hatch was open, a slanted ladder descending downward.
Below was pitch-black. Nothing could be seen clearly.
Rodart stepped forward."My lord, should we send people down to check?"
Lynn nodded."Yes. Send a five-man squad down to scout. Have them light their torches. If they encounter wights, try to lure them up. The space below is too confined—it'll be hard to fight properly."
Rodart acknowledged the order and dispatched five Dragoon infantry as instructed.
As his men went down, Lynn tightened his grip on the hilt of the Valyrian dagger at his waist and waved his hand."Don't crowd around the hatch. Pull back a bit."
Swordswoman Vayne glanced at the weapon in his hand. Her eyes suddenly lit up, surprise flashing across her face."Valyrian steel? Is that a Valyrian weapon? How do you have something like that?"
Lynn shrugged, answering casually,"Family heirloom."
Vayne stared at him in astonishment. Her expression stiffened, her brows twitching slightly.
"Only the great houses of Westeros can pass down weapons forged by the Valyrians. Could it be that your ancestors were once a great house as well?"
Lynn's ancestors were of the Yan-Huang lineage—certainly a great clan—but that wasn't exactly something he could explain to Little Pepper.
The two spoke quietly.
At that moment, the sounds of fighting and shouting erupted from the hatch below. Everyone tensed.
Moments later, a shadow flashed at the hatch as two Dragoon soldiers scrambled out, fear still lingering on their faces.
One of them reported,"There are twenty or thirty blue-eyed monsters gathered below, hiding deeper in the hold. No matter how we tried to provoke them, they didn't seem inclined to chase us up."
Lynn frowned."What about the other three?"
"They're right below the hatch, holding the ladder. They're using torches to drive back a few blue-eyed ones that tried to get close. They're asking if you want to charge down and kill them."
Lynn thought for a moment, then asked,"Did you get a good look at them? Any that looked heavily decayed?"
"It was too dark to see clearly," the soldier replied quickly. "The ones we encountered earlier looked mostly like normal people—aside from their glowing blue eyes. But their expressions were extremely sinister."
"However… there is one strange thing."
Rodart snapped,"Spit it out. Don't hesitate."
"Y-yes, my lord. There's a lot of blood down there—but not a single corpse to be seen."
Lynn's brow furrowed even tighter.
No corpses meant only one thing—the bodies had all been reanimated.
Lynn didn't know the exact range of a White Walker's ability to resurrect the dead. If it was limited, then the White Walker itself was very likely somewhere below on this ship.
Finally, Lynn gave the order.
"All units, prepare for battle. Light all torches. Archers, ready fire arrows. Blunt weapons are acceptable—as long as they deal enough damage, they can kill wights too. Once we're down there, sweep the entire lower hold."
"If you see a heavily decayed form, that's likely the White Walker."
"When that happens—"
"Leave it to me."
...
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Here are a few fan-fic titles that I've recently uploaded on my Patreon:
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(End Chapter)