Game of Thrones: Knight’s Honor

"Lord Lynd, you should change into a set of leather armor, and it would be best if you wore a leather tunic underneath," said Old Bear, frowning as he looked at Lynd, who was clad in the armor of a Banished Knight among the ranger patrols. "You're dressed too lightly, and you're still wearing steel armor on the outside. If you go north of the Great Wall like that, you'll freeze to death in no time."

"Commander-in-Chief, do you believe in the Seven Gods?" Lynd, riding on the back of Ebon, asked Old Bear with a smile.

"I believe in the Old Gods," Old Bear replied.

"Do the Old Gods answer when you pray?" Lynd asked again, then, without waiting for a response, continued, "When I pray, the Seven Gods answer me. They tell me that the cold will stay away from me and that the Land of Always Winter will feel no different to me than the gardens of Highgarden."

As Lynd spoke, the Seven-faithful among the Rangers behind him all made a familiar prayer-like gesture. Jeor Mormont couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the sight, his expression shifting into something unreadable.

In just seven days, Lynd had become the object of worship among the entire Night's Watch at Castle Black. The vast majority, who followed the Seven Gods, were convinced that he was their divine embodiment on earth. This was despite the fact that he spent most of his time in the library.

Yet, Jeor Mormont had to admit that Lynd was a remarkably charismatic figure. If he were a few decades younger, he might have found himself following Lynd with the same fervor as these young men at Castle Black.

Because when Lynd displayed his god-like strength, there was no denying the truth of the rumors. Hundreds of well-trained Night's Watch brothers fell like fragile weeds before him, and within just a few dozen breaths, every single one of them lay on the ground. And that was with him using a blunted training sword. Had he wielded the two legendary magic swords at his waist, there was no doubt—every man he had fought would now be dead.

Whether they had personally dueled him or not, none among the Night's Watch could now face Lynd without reverence. If he remained at the Wall for another ten or fifteen days, Jeor Mormont had no doubt that the entire Night's Watch would become his personal army.

With these complicated thoughts weighing on him, Jeor Mormont gave the order, and the passage gate of Castle Black slowly creaked open. One by one, the Rangers passed through, with Lynd and Glory bringing up the rear.

As they entered the passageway leading through the Wall, Lynd continuously monitored the state of the Dragon Runes, sensing the power within them reaching completion. Meanwhile, the Dragon Rune of the Heart was restoring its strength, causing the power from the Dragon Communion Ritual to refine his body further.

A surge of heat coursed through his veins, as if his blood were ablaze, and a flood of dark impulses surged within him—a deep, primal urge to slaughter everything in sight.

To suppress it, he quickly pulled out several Dragonglass necklaces and donned them, while activating the Frozen Dragon Rune to cool his body.

The clash of burning blood and icy energy made him feel like a steam engine, hot air constantly billowing from the gaps in his armor.

Fortunately, the Great Wall Passage was shrouded in darkness, with only the torches carried by the Rangers providing faint illumination. Though a few Rangers glanced at him from time to time, none seemed to notice anything unusual.

With the three iron bars opened, the Rangers passed through the heart of the Great Wall Passage and stepped Beyond the Wall.

The turmoil in Lynd's body gradually settled after crossing the midpoint of the passage. He could feel his physique and superhuman strength improving significantly, as though he had completed yet another Dragon Communion Ritual. Furthermore, the lingering power from the previous Dragon Communion Ritual, which had yet to be fully absorbed, had now completely merged into his being. In theory, he was now capable of performing the ritual again.

But that was only in theory.

What had just happened made Lynd realize that the power from his previous two Dragon Communion Rituals had not been entirely assimilated. A considerable portion remained sealed within the runes, much like the enchantments embedded in the Banished Knight's greatsword.

He had been fortunate this time. If the power from the first Dragon Communion Ritual— which had taken him a full year to digest—had compounded with the second, he might have completely lost control just now.

That meant he couldn't attempt a third Dragon Communion Ritual until he was certain that the power of the Dragon Heart Rune had been fully absorbed.

Now, he also understood why, in the memories of the Banished Knights, they exercised such extreme caution with each Dragon Communion Ritual.

Although there had been a minor loss of control, Lynd had still gained considerable benefits. At the very least, he now felt that his combat strength was no weaker than that of a full-fledged Banished Knight who had completed their first Dragon Communion Ritual.

Once his abnormal physical state subsided, Lynd attempted to use his extraordinary vision to peer inside the Great Wall, but all he could see was an overwhelming mass of white magic, like staring into a blinding ball of light up close. Finding this method ineffective, he tried borrowing Glory's vision instead.

However, as soon as the visual sharing was completed, his sight went pitch black. Puzzled, he quickly exited the link and turned to look at Glory. The creature was walking with its eyes tightly shut, head lowered—clearly, the magical radiance of the Wall was just as overwhelming for it.

Seeing this, Lynd chose not to force Glory to open its eyes and abandoned the attempt to observe the Wall's magical mysteries from within.

Before long, a sliver of light became visible through the gap at the passage's exit. The Rangers quickened their pace, eager to reach the entrance. As the Ranger on guard raised the gate, those who had endured the oppressive darkness wasted no time rushing out.

"Where are we going next?" Lynd asked as he emerged from the passage, directing his question to Benjen Stark, who led the group.

"We'll rest for the night in Whitetree first," Benjen replied swiftly. "Then we'll visit our Night's Watch ally, Craster, to see if he has any news about the wildling tribes. After that, we'll stay at Craster's Keep for two days and scout the surrounding Haunted Forest."

Though Benjen Stark did not share the reverence that many Rangers held for Lynd and his Faith of the Seven, his deep respect for Lynd remained evident. That respect stemmed not from his recent feats, but from a much earlier time—when Lynd had participated in the Tournament.

Lynd considered for a moment before saying, "I'll accompany you to Craster's Keep, but after that, I'll be heading further north to have a look around. If I haven't returned by the time your patrol is complete, don't wait for me—head back on your own. Once I'm finished with my affairs, I'll return to the Wall by myself. But when that happens, you'd better inform the gatekeepers in advance. I'd rather not be mistaken for an intruder when I come back."

"Yes, my lord," Benjen nodded, then asked, "Do you need a guide?"

Lynd smiled. "No need. I probably know Beyond the Wall better than you Rangers do now. Honestly, I don't know who'd be guiding whom."

Benjen only chuckled, not taking his words seriously, assuming he was joking.

At Benjen's command, the cavalry patrol set off toward Whitetree Village. After traversing an open, snow-covered field, they entered the Haunted Forest.

As soon as they did, Glory, seeming to embrace his wild instincts, darted off into the distance. Through their visual link, Lynd knew he was chasing an elk.

A hush fell over the Rangers as they ventured deeper into the Haunted Forest. Their eyes scanned their surroundings vigilantly, their movements tense, as though they expected an ambush at any moment. The more experienced among them had wrapped themselves tightly in cloaks—though the fabric linings would do little against an iron arrow, they were enough to stop a wildling's crude bone arrows.

On their very first day as Rangers, their predecessors had told them grim tales of wildlings lying in wait along patrol routes, striking at the unwary. They had been given instructions on what to do if they didn't want to become the next cautionary tale passed down among the Watch.

But in truth, such experience offered little actual protection. An ambush was still an ambush—no matter how prepared you were, death could come all the same. At best, their training provided a small sense of reassurance.

Unlike the wary Rangers, Lynd, who rode behind them, was noticeably more relaxed, treating the patrol more like a leisurely outing.

Not that he was careless—far from it. With Glory patrolling the surroundings and capable of detecting any human presence nearby, and his own enhanced perception, which had sharpened alongside his growing physical prowess, Lynd could easily sense any unusual movements around them.

Yet, he did not share this with the Rangers. Instead, he let them go through their usual patrol procedures. This kind of training was crucial—it would help the newer members of the Watch acclimate to the constant dangers Beyond the Wall.

On the map, Whitetree Village appeared deceptively close to the Wall. It looked as if one could reach it in just ten minutes after entering the forest. But in reality, the journey was much longer, feeling even farther than the trek from Queenscrown to Castle Black.

To make matters worse, the recent snowstorm had left the forest buried under snow taller than a man's height. It was soft, loose snow—once you stepped into it, both you and your horse would sink halfway down.

Although the old ranger leading the way was experienced enough to find the best paths through the forest, there was little he could do against the deep, floating snow that covered everything. With no other choice, he could only push forward slowly, carving a path inch by inch, like a relentless bulldozer.

The group traversed a small ridge, passed through dense clusters of trees, and waded across several icy rivers, their surfaces blanketed in snow.

Along the bank of one of these rivers, they came across an abandoned wildling camp. From the remnants left behind, it was clear that the inhabitants had not fled in a panic—they had taken everything they could carry. Judging by the snow settled over the site, they had left before the most recent snowstorm.

Near the camp's outskirts, they found the remains of a fire, and within it, the partially burned corpse of a human. From the way it had been treated, it seemed likely that this had been someone of importance—perhaps a leader or a witch.

The Rangers were aware that the wildlings burned their dead, but most assumed it was merely a burial custom. They did not understand the true reason: to prevent the corpses from rising again as wights.

"Something's not right," Benjen Stark murmured, surveying the camp. "The wildling tribes in the Haunted Forest know this area is too close to the Wall, well within the patrol range of the Rangers. They would never set up camp here."

"Could they be a defeated tribe that fled this way?" an old ranger speculated. "Wars between wildling clans are brutal. Some survivors, in their desperation, might run toward the Wall, hoping that our patrols would keep their pursuers at bay."

"It's possible," Benjen admitted, though he wasn't entirely convinced.

At that moment, Lynd made a discovery. Rolling off his horse, he brushed aside a thick layer of snow, revealing a pile of bones buried beneath it. They were unmistakably human, and many bore distinct bite marks.

"This camp belonged to a cannibal tribe," Lynd stated, picking up a leg bone with deep teeth marks and tossing it toward Benjen.

"A cannibal tribe?" Benjen frowned, catching the bone and examining it. "You mean the ones from beyond the Frozen Shore?"

The other rangers passed the bone around, their expressions growing grim.

Not long after, another ranger found a crude wooden carving inside a dismantled tent. The totem bore a strange, ominous symbol. When Benjen saw it, his face darkened further.

"Yes," he confirmed, his voice heavy. "It's the cannibal tribe from the north of the Frozen Shore."

One of the rangers muttered in disbelief, "How did they cross the Frostfangs to get here?"

Someone else chuckled dryly. "Maybe they wanted to change their diet—see what people east of the Frostfangs taste like."

No one laughed.

Because, in truth, that might very well be why the cannibal tribe had come to the Haunted Forest.

From the rangers, Lynd learned that across the Frostfangs, on the Frozen Shore, there was a savage orc-like tribe known as the Men of the Frozen Shore. They were the eternal enemies of another wildling faction in the area and were formidable warriors in their own right.

If such a powerful tribe had made its way east of the Frostfangs, it was certainly not good news for the Night's Watch.

The rangers did not linger. They pressed on toward Whitetree Village, reaching the outskirts before nightfall. But instead of continuing forward, they halted.

Smoke and firelight flickered in the direction of the village.

The sight immediately put the rangers on edge. The damp wood burning in the village meant that someone was there, and in light of their earlier discovery, the possibility that it was the cannibal tribe sent a wave of tension through the group.

Trained for such situations, the rangers silently dismounted, drew their weapons, and began creeping toward the village.

Lynd, however, did not join them. Through Glory's vision, he had already seen what lay ahead.

The people gathered in Whitetree were not enemies—they were also rangers.

Sure enough, not long after, laughter rang out from the village, followed by Benjen Stark's voice. The rangers who had remained behind to guard the horses relaxed, and the group moved forward into the village.

"Lord Lynd," Benjen called as he approached, "I'd like to introduce you to Mance Rayder, Lord Ranger of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea."

Standing beside Benjen was a young man with long brown hair.

…

(Original Author's Note: There were inconsistencies regarding the timeline of Mance Rayder's oath-taking. According to records, Benjen Stark had taken his vows before joining the Night's Watch, yet neither he nor Eddard Stark had ever met Mance Rayder during that time. However, later accounts mentioned that Mance Rayder had once visited Winterfell with the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, where he had met Eddard, as well as Robb Stark and Jon Snow when they were children—an obvious contradiction.

To resolve this, Mance Rayder's oath-breaking had been pushed forward slightly, allowing for a prior acquaintance between him and Benjen Stark, adding more depth to their dynamic.

One was known as the "Scourge of the Free Folk," while the other was called the "Scourge of the Night's Watch.")