Outside Winterfell, the snow on the Kingsroad had just melted, leaving it muddy and impassable.
Robb Stark personally escorted Lynn a long way.
He didn't say much, only had a dozen heavy coin purses placed into Lynn's carriage.
"The North isn't rich, but this is all we can spare."
Robb's voice brooked no refusal.
"You'll have many expenses on the road; don't be frugal."
The coin purses were extremely heavy, filled with golden dragons.
This was not just money; it was an investment from Robb and the entire North in him, and also their heartfelt sentiment.
"Alright, I'll take it!"
Lynn didn't decline, simply looking into Robb's eyes with solemnity.
"I'll wait for your safe return."
Robb nodded heavily, his eyes full of complete trust.
Without further words, Lynn turned his horse around and, with his hundred Guards, embarked on the journey south.
The sound of hooves gradually faded until it disappeared at the end of the road... Crossing the North's snow line, the chill in the air lessened day by day.
When the Team entered the Neck, moist, warm vapor assailed them. This was the territory of the crannogmen, with dense swamps, ancient towering trees, and roads appearing and disappearing in the thick fog.
Most of the native Northerners in the party, seeing such a sight for the first time, seemed a bit uneasy.
Lynn, however, was calm.
He could even perceive, through his keen senses, the small figures hidden deep in the swamps, cautiously observing them with poison-tipped blowdarts.
They were crannogmen.
Lynn paid them no mind, merely restraining his subordinates and passing quickly without looking left or right.
These mysterious Stark vassals would not trouble a party flying the Direwolf banner.
Beyond the Neck lay the fertile Riverlands.
The color of the earth changed from grey-black to emerald green, and frozen rivers transformed into rushing, living waters.
Along the roadsides, villages and towns gradually became more numerous.
The customs and scenery of the South were starkly different from the ruggedness of the North.
The men here no longer had full, curly beards, and the women's clothing was more vibrant.
The air no longer smelled of pine needles and ice and snow.
Instead, it carried the scent of earth, livestock, and wheat.
Arya was like a bird released from its cage, finding everything new and exciting.
One moment she was pointing at fishing boats in the river and shouting, the next she was pestering Lynn to buy honey cakes from a roadside vendor.
Lynn indulged her for once.
Most of his time was spent immersed in his own world.
During the day's march, he rode his horse while repeatedly rehearsing Arthur Dayne's dual-wielding sword techniques in his mind.
Every movement, every force application technique, was disassembled and reassembled in his consciousness until it became second nature.
At night in camp, he would light an oil lamp and privately study the ancient Valyrian texts left by Maester Aemon.
That ancient and complex language, aided by his 25 points of Mental power, no longer seemed so obscure and difficult to understand.
"[Detected: Your Night's Watch squad has completed the clear-out mission...]
[Experience + 21]
[Experience + 15]"
...The system's notification sounds occasionally echoed in his mind.
The experience harvester on the Wall was, as per his plan, steadily providing him with nourishment for growth.
Lynn opened his attribute panel.
Name: Lynn
Strength: 9 (89%)
Agility: 8 (47%)
Constitution: 7 (38%)
Mental: 25 (0%)
[Single Handed Sword (Expert) 852/1000]
[Light Sword (Mastery) 483/500]
[Arthur's Dual Single Handed Sword (Initiate) 31/100]
[Riding (Proficient) 57/100]
...Remaining Experience: 588
A month of travel had allowed him to accumulate a considerable amount of experience.
He planned to save these remaining experience points and see how things developed.
He could add them to Single Handed Sword and Light Sword, which would also be useful for Greensight and warging.
Physical training allowed the progress bars for Strength, Agility, and Constitution to grow slowly and steadily.
Dual-wielding swordsmanship and Riding also became more proficient with daily practice.
And these were not his greatest gains.
The party rested at an inn by the Trident River.
This was a major thoroughfare in Westeros, with merchants, mercenaries, and messengers traveling north and south in an endless stream.
The inn's common room was noisy and bustling.
The most talked-about topic was the Hand's Tourney soon to be held in King's Landing.
"Did you hear? The King is holding the grandest tourney in all Seven Kingdoms to celebrate Lord Stark's appointment as Hand!"
"The prize money is as high as forty thousand golden dragons!"
"My goodness, I've never seen so much money in my life!"
"The Lannisters will definitely participate; Duke Tywin's purse is never stingy."
"And the Knight of Flowers from Highgarden! Loras Tyrell!"
"His lance Riding is unmatched!"
"Last year, he unseated Ser Jaime Lannister at Riverrun!"
"That'll be a good show!"
Lynn sat alone in a corner, quietly drinking ale, taking in all the conversations.
The Hand's Tourney.
He knew about it, of course.
This was not just a celebration, but also a stage for the various powers in King's Landing to compete and display their skills.
His journey south, in addition to protecting Ned and secretly making arrangements, also required an identity.
An identity that would make those high-and-mighty nobles look at him with respect, an identity that would allow him to make moves in this grand game.
Merely being an envoy of Commander Mormont was far from enough.
After all, no matter what kind of envoy, he was ultimately just a Night's Watchman, a despised existence.
He needed renown.
And the Tourney was undoubtedly the quickest way to gain renown.
For sword combat, "dark sister" was not suitable to be revealed; Robert would be furious if he saw it.
But he still had "longclaw" and Arthur Dayne's sword skills as a foundation.
Moreover, a month of continuous strength training in the carriage had brought his Strength and Agility to 9 and 8 respectively.
He was confident he was second to none.
But if he wanted to make a name for himself in one battle and shock the Seven Kingdoms, the best stage was the jousting tourney.
That was the glory of knights, the performance most cherished by nobles.
Lance Riding... Lynn's eyes flickered slightly.
To participate, he must first acquire a knightly title, otherwise, he could only join the melee.
Loras Tyrell.
The "Knight of Flowers" who, with his exquisite lance technique, had charmed countless maidens.
A clear thought emerged in his mind.
If Arthur Dayne's swordsmanship could be "seen" and learned, then why not Loras's Riding?
Taking advantage of his mental power having fully recovered over the past month.
That same evening, Lynn returned to his inn room and locked the door.
He sat cross-legged on the bed, his mind more focused than ever before.
Greensight!
His consciousness once again left his body, sinking into the river of time composed of light and memories.
This time, his goal was incredibly clear.
Loras Tyrell.
He constructed this keyword in his mind, like lighting a lighthouse in the dark depths of the ocean.
His consciousness traveled rapidly.
The scenery of the Riverlands receded, and the outline of King's Landing flashed by.
Finally, a vast, boundless emerald plain appeared before his "eyes."
The Reach.
Highgarden's white marble castle, like a jewel in a garden, glittered in the sunlight.
Lynn's consciousness passed through the city walls, directly locking onto the knight training ground outside the castle.
He saw it.
A young knight, clad in magnificent silver armor with the golden rose of House Tyrell emblazoned on his chest, was Riding a splendid white warhorse, charging at a training dummy again and again.
Each of his charges was like a meticulously choreographed dance.
His body and the warhorse's rhythm were perfectly synchronized, and the lance in his hand was as steady as a rock.
At the moment of impact, there would be an extremely subtle tremor in his wrist.
It was this movement!
It allowed the tip of the lance, at a cunning angle, to precisely tear through the opponent's shield, transferring that immense impact force in the most effective way, thereby unhorsing the opponent.
This was not just a contest of strength and courage, but an art precise to the millimeter!
"[Detected: Host is observing legendary Riding...]
[Attributes meet requirements, parsing the Riding techniques of 'Knight of Flowers' Loras Tyrell...]
[Parsing complete!]
[Congratulations, Host, you have comprehended a new skill: Lance Riding (Initiate)]
[Congratulations, Host, your skill 'Riding (Proficient)' has gained a large amount of insight, and its proficiency has greatly increased!]"
It worked!
Lynn's consciousness abruptly withdrew, and he opened his eyes.
He immediately opened the system, without the slightest hesitation.
"[Do you want to consume 100 experience points to upgrade 'Lance Riding (Initiate)' to 'Lance Riding (Proficient)'?]"
"Yes."
"[Do you want to consume 200 experience points to upgrade 'Lance Riding (Proficient)' to 'Lance Riding (Mastery)'?]"
"Yes!"
[Lance Riding (Mastery) 1/500]
Remaining Experience: 288
A massive stream of information surged into his mind.
Loras Tyrell's thousands of training memories, from childhood to adulthood, were instantly imprinted in his brain.
If Loras knew, he'd probably die of anger.
At this moment, Lynn only needed a warhorse and a lance, and he could become another "Knight of Flowers."
In fact, with his superhuman strength and body control, he could do even better.
Lynn slowly exhaled, suppressing the excitement in his heart.
He walked to the window and pushed it open.
The southern night breeze was exceptionally warm, carrying the fragrance of grass and flowers.
In the distance, the Kingsroad, like a black dragon, snaked its way towards the heart of the continent.
A month of tedious travel was about to end.
King's Landing was just ahead.
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