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The news brought by the scout instantly froze the warm atmosphere that had just risen in the camp.
For such an event to occur in the Northern lands, under the banner of House Stark, was akin to a harsh slap across the face of a Direwolf.
Lynn stood up and brushed the snow off his body.
"Jon, you take some men and stay to protect Arya."
"The rest of you, follow me."
Jon nodded.
"Be careful."
Lynn, leading twenty of his most elite armored cavalry, followed the scout and disappeared into the vast darkness of the night.
Hooves thudded on the snow, making dull sounds.
In the air, a faint, almost imperceptible smell of blood lingered.
The closer they got, the stronger the scent became.
Finally, they saw the ambushed merchant caravan.
Several heavy carriages were tilted and stuck in the mud.
The axle of one of them was broken, and the carriage body had completely overturned.
The draft horses lay in pools of blood, their bodies already stiff, one eye still wide open, reflecting the pitch-black night sky.
The caravan's goods had long since vanished.
Several bodies lay scattered around the convoy.
They were the caravan guards.
Their deaths were horrific, their bodies covered in knife wounds, their faces frozen in the terror of their final moments.
Lynn dismounted and slowly walked into the wreckage.
He crouched down and dipped a finger into a spot of blood on the ground.
The blood had already congealed.
This indicated that some time had passed since the battle.
"My Lord, there's a survivor here!"
A soldier discovered a curled-up figure beneath the overturned carriage.
It was a merchant.
His large body was wedged between the carriage and the ground, one leg twisted at an unnatural angle.
His breathing was faint, and his lips were a deathly gray from blood loss.
Lynn walked over and offered him his waterskin.
The merchant drank a few greedy sips, and a faint spark of vitality returned to his clouded eyes.
"Bandits..."
"They... they took everyone..."
"They went... into the woods to the north..."
Extreme fear was etched on the merchant's face.
Lynn stood up, his expression terribly grim.
Since he was now associated with Stark, he naturally couldn't stand by and do nothing when faced with such an incident.
His men were all watching.
Such things would never be tolerated in the Northern lands.
This was a direct provocation to House Stark.
"Find their tracks."
Lynn gave the order.
The soldiers immediately fanned out, meticulously searching every inch of the surrounding land.
Soon, on the snowy ground leading to the dense northern forest, they discovered a series of messy footprints and drag marks.
Lynn returned to the camp.
He briefly explained the situation.
Anger flared in the faces of all the soldiers.
Such a brutal raid occurring in the lands they guarded was a trampling of the honor of every Northerner.
"My Lord, give the order!"
The captain of the cavalry, a burly man named Toren, tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword.
"We'll hang the heads of those scoundrels on the walls of Winterfell!"
Lynn's gaze swept over everyone.
"Gather everyone."
"We depart immediately."
He walked aside and quietly gave an order to Toren, the cavalry captain.
"Listen, Toren."
"Once you find them, don't kill them directly."
Toren was stunned.
"My Lord?"
"Break their arms or legs, just incapacitate them so they can't resist."
Lynn's voice was very low, audible only to the two of them.
"I want to personally end their lives, one by one."
Toren looked at Lynn, his rugged eyes filled with confusion.
But he didn't ask any more questions.
In the North, obeying orders was a warrior's duty.
"As you command, My Lord."
Not far away, Tyrion Lannister watched it all.
He leaned against his tent, holding a cup of wine, his short figure casting a long shadow in the firelight.
This order from Lynn was very strange.
To personally execute the enemies.
It was very similar to Ned's way of doing things.
Very strange.
What exactly was Lynn's motive?
A playful curve appeared at the corner of Tyrion's mouth.
Things were becoming increasingly interesting... The light in the woods was dim, and the dead branches and leaves under the snow crunched underfoot.
Lynn, leading fifty cavalrymen, moved through the forest.
The smell of blood and a certain nauseating burnt odor in the air grew stronger and stronger.
Finally, in the center of a clearing in the woods, they saw the bandits' camp.
The bonfire burned brightly, illuminating the surrounding trees like ghostly figures.
A dozen bandits were gathered around the bonfire, laughing loudly and drinking stolen wine.
But behind them, on several large trees, the sight before them froze the blood of all the Northern soldiers.
The abducted members of the merchant caravan were stripped naked and tied with ropes to the tree trunks.
Some of them had charred marks burned into their bodies by branding irons.
Others had their fingers broken one by one, hanging limply.
A woman was hanging from a tree branch, her golden hair matted with blood, her body still twitching slightly.
The bandits seemed to enjoy the torment.
From time to time, they would pick up red-hot iron rods and walk towards the miserable captives.
Amidst their piercing screams, they let out bestial roars of laughter.
This was not plunder.
This was pure evil, delighting in the torment of others.
Lynn raised his hand.
The soldiers behind him slowly drew their longswords from their waists.
The sword blades reflected a cold, icy gleam in the moonlight filtering through the trees.
Lynn's hand suddenly swept down.
"Kill!"
A low roar.
Fifty Northern elites, riding their warhorses, charged towards the camp.
The bandits were drinking and reveling, completely unprepared under the numbing effect of alcohol.
When the first bandit was pierced through the throat by a longsword, the others finally reacted.
The battle, rather than a battle, was a massacre.
The accumulated anger in the guards' chests completely erupted at this moment.
But they still strictly followed Lynn's orders.
Sword backs, hammer handles, fists and feet.
The difference between fully armored and unarmored opponents allowed the guards to hold back in this way.
"Crunch!"
The sound of bones breaking was exceptionally clear amidst the screams.
A bandit's arm was brutally smashed, and he rolled on the ground, clutching his arm.
Another bandit's knee was shattered by a kick, and he fell to his knees, unable to stand again.
In less than a moment.
All the bandits lay on the ground.
They wailed and struggled, yet none of them died.
The battle was over.
Lynn quickly walked into the camp.
He did not look at the rescued merchants, but walked directly towards a bandit who was still writhing on the ground.
The bandit looked at him in terror, trying to inch backward.
Lynn drew the valyrian steel dagger from his waist.
The dragon bone hilt was cold to the touch.
"Thud."
The dagger cleanly and swiftly plunged into the bandit's neck.
Blood gushed out.
The bandit's body twitched continuously, and in less than a minute, he was silent.
[Killed 1 enemy, Experience +1]
[Current Experience: 8]
Lynn, expressionless, walked to the next one.
He was like a tireless farmer, harvesting ripe crops in his field.
Hand up.
Blade down.
[Killed 1 enemy, Experience +1]
[Current Experience: 9]
Jon stood at the edge of the camp, watching this scene.
He watched Lynn end one life after another with that dagger.
No anger.
No pity.
Not even the slightest emotional fluctuation.
It felt as if he was dealing with something trivial.
Jon felt a chill, rushing from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head.
He had also witnessed executions.
But killing so many people at once, Jon had never seen before.
In the camp, there was only the dull sound of the dagger piercing flesh, and the bandits' last gasps before death.
[Killed 1 enemy, Experience +1]
[Current Experience: 10]
When the last bandit fell into a pool of blood, Lynn slowly straightened his body.
His experience had now reached 25.
"Increase Light Sword to Proficient, and put the rest into Single Handed Sword."
[Experience -9, Light Sword (Beginner) 1 → 10, Level Up]
[Experience -16, Single Handed Sword (Proficient) 18 → 34]
Name: Lynn
Strength: 5 (Normal)
Agility: 5 (Normal)
Constitution: 5 (Normal)
[Single Handed Sword (Proficient) 34/100]
[Light Sword (Proficient) 1/100]
[Riding (Proficient) 1/100]
[Unarmed Combat (Proficient) 84/100]
Remaining Experience: 0
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