The winter wind showed no sign of letting up.
Two guards held Lynn, one on each side.
He stumbled through the snow-covered land.
The cold touch of chains spread from his wrists, traveling up his arms and throughout his body.
With every breath, he inhaled air as sharp as knives, stinging his lungs.
Lynn's physical condition was terrible.
The original owner, a Night's Watch deserter, had traveled south from The Wall, already at the end of his rope.
Hunger and cold had drained his last ounce of strength.
The outburst at the execution ground earlier had consumed almost all of Lynn's energy.
Now, Lynn could only be passively dragged forward.
At the very front of the procession was Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell.
He rode a tall warhorse, his broad back as steady as a mountain.
Ice, his Valyrian steel greatsword, was sheathed and slung across his back.
Yet, an invisible pressure still enveloped the entire group.
His sons followed behind him.
The elder Robb and Jon Snow rode side by side.
Both were conversing in low voices, their expressions serious.
Theon Greyjoy appeared much more relaxed, even finding time to tease his horse.
The youngest, Bran Stark, rode beside his father as instructed.
A trace of pallor still lingered on his tender face.
Lynn's gaze swept over those young figures before returning to the monotonous snowscape before him.
He knew he had only temporarily survived.
Ned Stark was no fool.
A story about white walkers would, at best, earn him an interrogation.
If he failed to provide more valuable information, or if his story was deemed a lie,
Ice, the Valyrian steel greatsword, would once again be at his throat.
And this time, there would be no more luck.
"Bran."
Ned Stark's deep voice carried on the wind, clearly reaching Bran's ears.
Ned did not turn back, only slowed his horse to allow his son's mount to follow more steadily.
"Do you understand why I brought you today?"
Bran's small hands gripped the reins tightly. He looked up at his father's profile.
"Jon said I'm old enough to witness executions."
"It's more than that."
Ned Stark's voice held a teaching tone.
"Do you understand why I had to execute him?"
"Because he was a Night's Watch deserter."
Bran answered quickly.
"Yes."
Lord Ned nodded slightly.
"But he was also a man."
"Our laws are ancient; deserters must be executed."
"I never enjoy this process, Bran."
"But my duty does not allow me to shrink from it."
Ned's gaze drifted towards the distant, grey horizon.
"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword."
"If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his last words."
"If you cannot do that, then perhaps he does not deserve to die."
He spoke these words not only for Bran but for every Stark child behind him.
"Bran, remember, one day you will become Robb's vassal."
"You will govern your own lands for your brother and the king, and upholding the law is something you must do."
"Then, you must never take pleasure in killing, nor shirk your responsibilities."
"Face it, and never run away!"
"Otherwise, you will quickly lose reverence for life."
This was the law of House Stark.
It was the law of the North.
Lynn listened in silence.
He knew this conversation.
This was Ned Stark's initiation into honor and duty for his children.
A man so noble he was almost pedantic.
But precisely because of this, he had won his gamble.
Bran was silent for a moment, seemingly processing his father's words.
But his young mind was clearly unable to fully grasp the profound meaning behind them.
He was more concerned with something else.
"Father."
Bran's voice held the curiosity peculiar to children, and a hint of unconcealed fear.
"What that deserter said... is it true?"
"White walkers... do they really exist?"
As soon as this question was asked, the atmosphere of the group instantly became somewhat subtle.
Robb and Jon stopped talking, both looking over.
Even Theon Greyjoy's frivolity faded a little.
Everyone's gaze, intentionally or unintentionally, fell on the prisoner being escorted at the back of the group.
Lynn kept his head down, as if unaware of these stares.
Eddard Stark did not answer for a long time.
The wind and snow whipped his cloak, making it flap loudly.
"A long time ago, during the Age of Heroes, The Long Night descended."
He finally spoke, his voice distant and profound.
"The First Men fought alongside the Children of the Forest to drive those things back to the Lands of Always Winter in the far north."
"Brandon the Builder erected The Wall, and the Night's Watch was established to guard against their return."
"These are stories written in history books."
Bran's eyes lit up, but then quickly dimmed.
"So, they are just stories, right?"
Eddard Stark fell silent.
He could not give a definitive answer.
As Warden of the North, he knew the weight of those ancient legends better than anyone.
The North was different from the warm South.
Here, people revered the Old Gods and believed in the existence of Magic.
"We haven't seen white walkers in thousands of years," Ned finally said.
This answer was ambiguous, neither affirming nor denying.
But the gravity it contained made Bran's young heart feel a pang of unease.
Just then, Jon Snow, who was at the front, suddenly reined in his horse.
"My Lord!"
His voice held a hint of surprise.
The entire group stopped.
Lynn, shoved by the guards, also came to a halt.
He looked up, following Jon's gaze forward.
In the snow not far away, lay a giant black shadow.
It was the corpse of a beast.
Its size far exceeded that of an ordinary wolf, almost as large as a small horse.
Its dark grey fur was stained with congealed black blood, and a broken antler was deeply impaled in its throat.
A fatal wound.
"It really was a Direwolf!"
Robb Stark's voice was filled with shock.
Ned also turned sharply to look at Lynn.
He quickly dismounted and went to examine the wolf's carcass.