Outside Winterfell, the Kingsroad was a mire of mud and melting snow.
Robb Stark escorted Lynn a long way.
He said little, simply having his men stuff a dozen heavy coin purses into Lynn's carriage.
"The North is not rich, but this is all we can spare."
Robb's tone allowed no refusal.
"You will need coin on the road. Do not be frugal."
The purses were heavy in Lynn's hand, filled with gold dragons.
This wasn't just money. It was an investment from Robb, and indeed the entire North, in him. It was a token of their faith.
"Very well. I accept."
Lynn did not decline. He looked Robb solemnly in the eye.
"I will await your safe return."
Robb nodded heavily, his eyes full of absolute trust.
Without further words, Lynn turned his horse and led his hundred guards onto the road south.
The sound of hoofbeats faded into the distance until they disappeared at the end of the road.
---
As they crossed the snow line of the North, the chill in the air faded day by day.
When the column entered the Neck, warm, humid air washed over them. This was the domain of the Crannogmen—a land of dense swamps, towering ancient trees, and roads that appeared and vanished in the thick fog.
Most of the Northmen in the company, born and bred in the snow, were seeing such sights for the first time and appeared somewhat uneasy.
Lynn, however, was calm.
Through his sharpened perception, he could even sense the short figures hidden deep in the marshes, watching them vigilantly with poisoned blowdarts.
Crannogmen.
Lynn paid them no mind, simply ordering his men to keep their eyes forward and march quickly.
These mysterious bannermen of House Stark would not trouble a column flying the Direwolf banner.
Past the Neck lay the fertile Riverlands.
The color of the earth shifted from grey-black to emerald green. Frozen rivers turned into rushing, living waters.
Villages and towns appeared more frequently along the road.
The customs and people of the South were starkly different from the rugged North.
The men here were not all bearded giants, and the women wore brighter, more colorful garb.
The air no longer smelled of pine needles and ice.
Instead, it carried the scent of soil, livestock, and ripening wheat.
Arya was like a bird released from a cage, finding novelty in everything.
One moment she was shouting and pointing at fishing boats in the river; the next she was pestering Lynn to buy honeycakes from a roadside peddler.
Lynn indulged her rarely shown childishness.
For most of the journey, he remained immersed in his own world.
By day, while riding, he mentally rehearsed Arthur Dayne's dual-wielding swordplay over and over.
Every movement, every technique of force application, was disassembled and reassembled in his consciousness until it became instinct.
By night, in camp, he would light an oil lamp and study the ancient High Valyrian texts left by Maester Aemon alone.
Under the boost of his 25 points of Spirit, the ancient and complex language became less obscure.
[Detecting your Night's Watch squad completed a clearing mission...]
[Experience +21]
[Experience +15]
...
System notifications rang in his mind periodically.
The "experience harvesting machine" at the Wall was providing him with steady nourishment for growth, just as planned.
Lynn opened his attribute panel.
Name: Lynn
Strength: 9 (89%)
Agility: 8 (47%)
Constitution: 7 (38%)
Spirit: 25 (0%)
[One-Handed Sword (Expert) 852/1000]
[Light Sword (Mastery) 483/500]
[Dual-Wielding (Arthur Dayne Style) (Mastery) 21/100]
[Riding (Proficient) 57/100]
...
Remaining Experience: 588
A month of travel had allowed him to accumulate a considerable amount of experience.
He decided to hold onto these remaining points for now.
He could add them to One-Handed Sword or Light Sword, or they would be equally useful for Greensight and Skinchanger.
Physical training had allowed his Strength, Agility, and Constitution progress bars to grow slowly but steadily.
His dual-wielding and riding skills were also becoming more refined with daily practice.
But these were not his biggest gains.
The company stopped to rest at an inn by the Trident.
This was the crossroads of Westeros, bustling with merchants, sellswords, and messengers traveling north and south.
The common room of the inn was noisy and lively.
The topic on everyone's lips was the upcoming Hand's Tourney in King's Landing.
"Have you heard? The King is holding the grandest tourney the Seven Kingdoms have ever seen to celebrate Lord Eddard Stark becoming Hand!"
"The champion's purse is forty thousand gold dragons!"
"Gods, I've never seen that much coin in my life!"
"The Lannisters will surely enter. Lord Tywin's purse strings are never tight."
"And the Knight of Flowers from Highgarden! Loras Tyrell!"
"His lance work is unmatched under heaven!"
"He unhorsed Ser Jaime Lannister at Riverrun just last year!"
"That will be a show to watch!"
Lynn sat alone in a corner, quietly sipping his ale, taking in everyone's discussion.
The Hand's Tourney.
He knew of it, of course.
It wasn't just a celebration; it was a stage for the great powers of King's Landing to flex their muscles and show off their skills.
Heading south, besides protecting Ned and laying his hidden plans, he needed an identity.
An identity that would make those arrogant nobles look him in the eye, an identity that would qualify him to place his pieces on this great board.
Being merely Lord Commander Mormont's envoy was far from enough.
After all, no matter what envoy he was, he was still just a man of the Night's Watch—an existence often looked down upon.
He needed fame.
And the tourney was undoubtedly the fastest shortcut to fame.
For the melee or sword duel, Dark Sister shouldn't be revealed; Robert would burst a vessel if he saw it.
But he still had Longclaw, and Arthur Dayne's sword techniques as his foundation.
Moreover, after a month of constant strength training in the carriage, his Strength and Agility had reached 9 and 8 respectively.
He was confident he wouldn't lose to anyone.
But to make a name for himself in a single battle and shock the Seven Kingdoms, the best stage was the joust.
That was the glory of knights, the performance nobles loved most.
Lance riding...
Lynn's eyes flickered slightly.
To participate, he first needed to fudge a knighthood, otherwise, he could only join the melee.
Loras Tyrell.
The "Knight of Flowers" who had charmed countless maidens with his godlike lance skills.
A thought surfaced clearly in his mind.
Since Arthur Dayne's swordsmanship could be "watched" and learned, why not Loras's riding?
Taking advantage of his fully recovered Spirit after a month of rest.
That night, Lynn returned to his room at the inn and locked the door.
He sat cross-legged on the bed, his mind focused as never before.
Greensight!
His consciousness detached from his flesh once more, sinking into the river of time composed of light and memory.
This time, his target was explicitly clear.
Loras Tyrell.
He constructed this keyword in his mind, like lighting a beacon in a pitch-black ocean.
His consciousness traveled at speed.
The scenery of the Riverlands receded, the silhouette of King's Landing flashed by.
Finally, a vast, emerald-green plain appeared before his "eyes."
The Reach.
The white marble castle of Highgarden shone like a jewel in a garden under the sun.
Lynn's consciousness passed through the walls, locking directly onto the knight's training grounds outside the castle.
He saw him.
A young knight in splendid silver armor, a golden rose of House Tyrell etched on his breastplate, riding a magnificent white destrier, charging at a quintain again and again.
Every charge was like a carefully choreographed dance.
His body and the horse moved in perfect unison, the lance in his hand steady as a rock.
In the instant before impact, his wrist would make an incredibly subtle twitch.
That's the move!
It allowed the lance tip to strike at a tricky angle, precisely tearing through the opponent's shield defense and transferring the massive impact in the most effective way to unhorse them.
This wasn't just a contest of strength and courage; it was an art precise to the millimeter!
[Detecting host observing legendary riding skills...]
[Attributes sufficient. Analyzing riding techniques of "Knight of Flowers" Loras Tyrell...]
[Analysis complete!]
[Congratulations, Host. You have learned a new skill: Lance Riding (Novice)]
[Congratulations, Host. Your skill "Riding (Proficient)" has gained significant insight. Proficiency greatly increased!]
Done!
Lynn withdrew his consciousness abruptly and opened his eyes.
He immediately opened the System, without hesitation.
[Consume 10 Experience Points to upgrade "Lance Riding (Novice)" to "Lance Riding (Proficient)"?]
"Yes."
[Consume 100 Experience Points to upgrade "Lance Riding (Proficient)" to "Lance Riding (Mastery)"?]
"Yes!"
[Lance Riding (Mastery) 1/500]
Remaining Experience: 478
A massive stream of information flooded his mind.
The memories of Loras Tyrell's thousands of training sessions from childhood to adulthood were instantly branded into his brain.
If Loras knew, he'd probably die of anger on the spot.
Now, Lynn only needed a warhorse and a lance to become another "Knight of Flowers."
In fact, with his superior Strength and body control, he could do it even better.
Lynn exhaled slowly, suppressing the thrill in his heart.
He walked to the window and pushed it open.
The southern night wind was exceptionally mild, carrying the fragrance of grass and flowers.
In the distance, the Kingsroad wound like a black dragon, stretching toward the heart of the continent.
The month of dull travel was nearly at an end.
King's Landing was right before his eyes.
---