The Night's Watch left the Wall and arrived at their first destination north of it.
Soft-bodied and delicate, Fat Sam had rubbed a blister raw on his backside from riding. In the end, Dolorous Edd—nicknamed "the stupid ox"—tossed him onto a sled and dragged him along.
Passing through the snow-blanketed dense forest, the Night's Watch party reached the lands of the wildling Craster.
They entered Craster's keep, a crude enclosure ringed with branches and brush.
When Fat Sam saw that there were actually groups of young women inside, he froze in a daze.
A ranger beside him spoke up. "If I were you, I wouldn't stare at Craster's daughters like that—because they'll also be his wives."
Fat Sam was completely stunned.
Jon suddenly asked, "Then where did his sons go?"
No one could answer. Silence fell over the group.
Craster provided the Night's Watch with a place to stay during their ranging north, while Old Bear offered him fine iron tools in return.
Old Bear asked Craster about the whereabouts of Benjen, the missing Night's Watch ranger commander.
Craster's flat nose and drooping lips gave him a cruel-looking face. He was also missing one ear—it had frozen off.
He took a swig of hot wine and said he hadn't seen Benjen in three years.
Old Bear asked again, "Why haven't we seen any wildlings along the way? Where have they all gone?"
Craster sneered. "They've all joined your good brother, the King-Beyond-the-Wall. The army he's gathered now is larger than that of any of your kings."
Old Bear replied that the man was no brother of his. He had once been a man of the Night's Watch, but had betrayed his vows.
"What is he gathering an army for?"
"Isn't it obvious? He's marching south."
Everyone present felt the gravity of it.
Old Bear said, "Then living alone beyond the Wall like this—aren't you in danger?"
The wildling Craster pulled one of his women into his arms and curled his lips into a grin. "I've got someone above me. No need to worry."
Then he noticed Jon staring at his women and issued him a solemn warning.
Once outside the hut, Old Bear slammed Jon against the wooden support beams.
"If you want to be Lord Commander one day, learn to obey orders first. What are you staring at other men's wives for?"
Jon said nothing. He felt that the fact Craster kept only daughters and no sons was deeply suspicious.
Craster truly was a bastard.
Not only because of what he did with his daughters, but because he was also a kinslayer—offering up all of his sons as sacrifices to the White Walker King, the Night King, to be turned into new White Walkers.
One could say that in the future army of the White Walkers, every single one of his sons would be there.
Hood couldn't understand why these ironborn were willing to fight to the death to such an extent.
They knew they would die, yet still refused to surrender.
The men of House Flint successfully lured them outside the gates of the fishing port town. Then, without the slightest hesitation, the ironborn charged straight at the fortifications.
Even when the Flint soldiers behind them defected on the spot,
Even when the hidden forces of the Swift Cavalry surrounded them,
They still launched a fearless assault toward Lynn's lordly keep.
Standing atop the wooden battlements, Lynn said, "You say they're fearless? No—quite the opposite. These men are filled with terror. But what they fear isn't us. They fear the lords of the Iron Islands. Once the Greyjoy patriarch learns they've lost the grain, what awaits them back home will be slaughter far worse than this. Believe me—dying honorably here is exactly what they want."
House Flint's betrayal had already crushed the last shred of hope left in the ironborn's hearts.
Besides, there were blue-eyed monsters on their ships. Even if they wanted to flee, they couldn't.
One-sided massacres always ended quickly. The Countess climbed the battlements and came to Lynn's side.
"My lord, when do you plan to send troops north with me back to Widow's Watch?"
Lynn looked down at the scene below, where bodies were being gathered. Under the dense arrow fire from the Swift Cavalry's archers atop the walls, the ironborn hadn't even managed to reach the ramparts.
Outside the walls, the sloped sand-filled trenches were piled high with corpses.
This was a deliberate ambush, and Lynn held both terrain and numerical advantage.
The ironborn sailors had barely inflicted any casualties at all.
Trapped in a harvesting net of torrential rain and arrow storms, they could only curse in despair as they died in the raging wind.
The last ironborn to fall shouted, "You fools of the eastern coast! You won't meet a good end! The blue-eyed monsters will devour every inch of your bones!" Then he fell into the sea of corpses with a savage grin.
"Madam, there's no need to rush," Lynn said slowly, withdrawing his gaze. "I will honor our agreement. However, a great storm is about to arrive. After it passes—after I eliminate the blue-eyed monsters trapped aboard the Iron Islands' merchant ships—my men will march north with you."
The Countess of Flint frowned, surprised. "You plan to board the ships and deal with the blue-eyed monsters yourself? I hope you reconsider, my lord. Those things will slaughter your soldiers and turn them into even more White Walkers. Leaving them trapped at sea would be much safer."
He still had system quests to complete—how could he possibly not go?
Lynn corrected her calmly. "No. Most of them are wights. They don't have the ability to reanimate the dead. There may only be one true White Walker among them. I need to find it and kill it. That's the only way to be truly safe."
Rain soaked the mature woman's forehead and her curvaceous figure, but upon hearing Lynn's words, her eyes shone with both surprise and delight.
"So that's how it is," the Countess said, blinking her beautiful eyes as she looked at him. "Why do you know so much about the White Walkers?"
Lynn chuckled softly and tapped his head. "I've just read a few more books than most. It's nothing special."
The Countess nodded seriously. "From the Citadel? Pity they never welcome women there. But then—are you confident you can destroy the White Walkers?"
Lynn smoothly steered the conversation back. "Uh… I have some confidence. As long as there aren't too many of them."
"White Walkers are far more dangerous than you imagine. Arrogance clouds judgment, my lord," the female swordmaster said coldly, unable to hide her sarcasm.
This time, the Countess didn't flare up. She smoothed things over. "Vayne's knightly order was wiped out by White Walkers while protecting me—right at the docks of Widow's Watch. Against creatures of legend like that, caution is indeed necessary."
Lynn merely sneered.
The three continued talking atop the battlements.
By then, the rain had grown heavier and heavier. Seeing that the cleanup outside the walls was nearly finished, the Swift Cavalry outside, led by Rodat and Harry Kane, began returning to the castle one after another.
Lynn watched as the sky darkened.
Night was falling. The distant sea had become a vast blackness, lit only by the occasional flash of lightning that briefly illuminated the heavens.
The waves roared and churned, spray flying everywhere. Massive waterspouts—like dragons drinking from the sea—appeared and vanished on the horizon.
Unwilling to stay and be drenched any longer, Lynn said to Lady Flint, "The storm will arrive soon. Madam, you should return and rest. The lord's manor has prepared accommodations for you. If all goes well, the storm will pass by tomorrow, and you'll be able to return safely to Widow's Watch. I guarantee it."
With that, without waiting to see whether the two women believed him, he turned and left on his own. Rainy days always ruined clothes so easily—hopefully he wouldn't catch a cold tomorrow.
Vayne walked over to the dazed Countess and draped a hooded cloak over her shoulders.
Only then did Lady Flint fully feel the chill of the storm. She pressed her lips together as rain struck her face, raising a hand to pull the hood of her purple-red cloak over her head.
"Vayne," she said softly, "you also think this young lord is rather extraordinary, don't you?"
This time, the female swordsman Vayne nodded absentmindedly—unusually silent, offering no rebuttal at all.
As for daily update schedules—does anyone have good suggestions? For example, 8 a.m. and 8 p.m.?
...
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Here are a few fan-fic titles that I've recently uploaded on my Patreon:
"Game of Thrones: Dragon Prince"
"Game of Thrones: Political Life"
"Game of Thrones: Holy Flame"
"The Game of Thrones Upgrade System"
"Game of Thrones: Lannister Kingdom"
"Game of Thrones: Godzilla vs. Dragons"
"Game of Thrones: Ruler of the Deep Seas "
"Game of Thrones The Glory of a Knight"
"Game of Thrones: The Most Powerful Dragon Queen"
" Game of Thrones: From the Elden Lord to the Young Wolf"
"Game of Thrones: Rise of a Lord with the Army-Building System"
(End Chapter)