Game of Thrones: Knight’s Honor

In the open space in front of the ruins of the camp, Lynd completed his daily sparring session with Nymeria. Handing the great knight's sword to Bert and Raul, he instructed them, "Maintain it with the tarpaulin, then put it back in the sheath."

"I want you to go somewhere with me," Nymeria said, taking a towel from the old Maester to wipe the sweat from her brow. She glanced at Lynd, who showed no sign of exertion, and a flash of envy crossed her face before she spoke in a low voice.

Hearing such a familiar phrase, Lynd froze. In his previous life, a woman had once said something similar to him, but the aftermath had been deeply upsetting.

Seeing his expression darken, Nymeria couldn't help but ask, "Is there a problem, Ser Lynd?"

Pulled from his memories, Lynd couldn't resist asking, "Are you going to break up with your sweetheart, and I'm pretending to be your new boyfriend?"

Nymeria's expression turned irritated. She glared at Lynd as if he had insulted her and even raised the axe in her hands, as if ready to give him a whack to bring him to his senses.

Lynd quickly explained, "Sorry, My lady. Your words triggered some bad memories."

Nymeria gave him a strange look but chose not to pursue the matter. She returned to the topic at hand. "I made a promise to the leader of the valley. I'm going to meet him."

Lynd frowned. "You shouldn't go meet those people," he said.

"I've given it a lot of thought," Nymeria replied seriously. "If the Iron Throne truly wants to get rid of me, the fact that they're stationed so close to Tumbleton would be reason enough, even without direct contact. Instead of waiting for a disaster that may or may not happen, it's better to take the initiative and remove the potential threat."

"Remove it?" Lynd hesitated for a moment before asking, "You mean to...?"

Nymeria noticed his misunderstanding and clarified, "No. I just want them to leave."

"If they wanted to leave, they would have already gone. How are you going to convince them?" Lynd asked.

Nymeria gripped the giant axe in her hand. "It's simple. Their job is to protect me. I just need to prove that I no longer need protection."

Lynd considered her words. "If you feel this is necessary, as your companion, I won't argue. Glory and I will come with you to check for any undesirables lurking around."

"Thanks," Nymeria said with a nod.

After nightfall, Nymeria left the camp. Lynd donned his cloak, took his horse by the reins, and followed.

When he caught sight of Nymeria, however, he froze. Normally, she wore leather armor or simple robes. Tonight, she was clad in a striking full suit of steel armor, with a white cloak draped over her shoulders. She looked awe-inspiring and heroic. The only imperfection was the size of her warhorse, which appeared somewhat small compared to her imposing figure.

"Try my horse!" Lynd said, leading his horse over to Nymeria.

Lynd's horse had been carefully selected to suit his tall frame. Though it still looked somewhat oversized beneath Nymeria's smaller figure, it was a clear improvement over the skinny horse she had been riding, which looked as if it might collapse at any moment.

Nymeria didn't waste words. She dismounted from the frail horse and took the reins of Lynd's warhorse. Meanwhile, Lynd fetched a new warhorse from the camp.

With a grin, Lynd remarked, "With a figure like yours, perhaps only a Dothraki Sea horse would be appropriate."

Nymeria shot him a dirty look, then nudged her horse's belly and rode off toward the nearby hill.

Lynd didn't follow immediately. Instead, he waited until she had gone some distance before setting off, leading Glory alongside him.

Trailing Nymeria, Lynd climbed over a hill, skirted a stagnant lake, and passed through a dense forest until they emerged into a relatively open meadow. Nymeria signaled Lynd to stay back before riding alone into the open space.

As soon as she entered the meadow, five warriors clad in cloaks emerged from the forest and stood before her. They bowed solemnly, and Nymeria, without rejecting their gesture, began speaking to them.

Lynd kept his distance, refraining from eavesdropping. Instead, he dismounted, retrieved his bow and arrows from the saddle, and, accompanied by Glory, began surveying the dense forest around them.

It wasn't long before Lynd noticed something unusual. More than twenty heavily armed warriors were moving hastily through the forest, weapons in hand. Among them, he recognized a familiar face—the leader of the remnants of the Targaryens who had surrendered. Lynd had seen him before in their valley camp, through Glory's eyes.

Realizing the potential threat, Lynd readied his bow to deal with the group in the forest. However, before he could act, Glory pressed firmly against him, transmitting a strong hunting mood through their shared mind connection.

"It's up to you, don't make a big noise," Lynd said, nodding. Since it was rare for Glory to take such initiative, he did not stop it.

Glory excitedly shook his head and then vanished with a "whoosh" into the dense forest, disappearing from Lynd's sight.

Lynd didn't remain idle, waiting for Glory's return. He continued to follow the group, prepared to intervene if Glory caused any unwanted commotion.

To Lynd's surprise, Glory's hunting was both deadly and silent. Starting with the stragglers, the group of over twenty people disappeared one by one into the dark forest. By the time the leader realized something was amiss, Glory was already upon him, teeth bared in a devastating attack.

In less than five minutes, the entire group had vanished without a trace into the dense forest.

What astonished Lynd even more was Glory's return. It wasn't until Glory reached the bushes beside him that Lynd's extraordinary senses detected his presence, and Lynd suspected this was only because Glory wanted to be noticed.

Previously, Glory had never been able to hide his movements so completely. This newfound ability to conceal himself went far beyond the natural stealth of a Shadowcat. Lynd could feel a certain force emanating from Glory, enhancing his concealment by muffling sound and blending his form seamlessly into the shadows.

Lynd recalled that during Glory's earlier attacks, there were moments when the strikes were not immediately fatal. Yet, even when the targets resisted, their movements produced no sound. Those standing only a few steps away remained oblivious.

Lynd speculated that after absorbing the energy of the vengeful souls in the ruins of Tumbleton, Glory had awakened new abilities, just as it had gained the ability to alter his fur color after absorbing the energy of the Dragonpit's resentful souls.

Glory's newfound strength was undoubtedly a boon for Lynd. In future nighttime raids, this ability would provide a significant tactical advantage. However, since he had anticipated Glory's growth after absorbing the energy, Lynd did not display overt excitement. Instead, he petted Glory's head in approval and used a handkerchief to clean the blood around Glory's mouth before continuing his patrol of the forest.

After about half an hour, Lynd completed his patrol and returned to the area near the forest meadow.

By then, it seemed Nymeria had managed to convince the personal guards sent to protect her by Prince Lewyn before his death. The five captains of the guards now struggled to stand upright, supporting each other. One of them, his head covered in blood, looked as though he might collapse at any moment.

After a few final exchanges, the five captains bowed to Nymeria once more before limping away, helping each other as they departed.

Nymeria remained standing in the meadow, appearing lost in thought.

Lynd approached quietly, standing beside her without saying a word, waiting for her to regain her composure.

After a while, Nymeria abruptly said, "The armor I'm wearing was modified from the armor he used to wear in Dorne. I've always hated the Dorne crest on it, so I've never worn it."

"If you don't like the crest, I can have the craftsmen change it for you," Lynd replied, studying her. "But... is changing the crest enough? Do you really only hate the crest?"

Nymeria frowned but didn't respond. Instead, she walked closer to Lynd, sniffed the air around him, and asked, "Did you just fight? Why is there such a strong smell of blood?"

"It wasn't me, it was Glory," Lynd said, petting the Shadowcat's head. He then recounted what had happened in the dense forest.

After listening, Nymeria asked for more details about the appearance of the man in charge, then remarked with suspicion, "The person you're describing sounds like Berrion Storm, the bastard son of Lord Armond Connington, brother of Lord Jon Connington. He once impersonated Lord Jon Connington to gain the trust of some Targaryen loyalists and attacked several nobles in the Westerlands. He's considered a staunch supporter of the Targaryens. Are you sure you weren't mistaken?"

"Westerlands?" Lynd pondered for a moment, then laughed. "I suppose Lord Berrion Storm attacked the nobles of the Westerlands who aren't exactly friendly with Lord Tywin, right?"

Nymeria froze, her face clouded with thought. She quickly pieced together some connections and muttered, "To eliminate opponents this way—doesn't Lord Tywin worry about being exposed?"

"Who would expose him?" Lynd countered. "Didn't you just doubt me? Who would ever suspect that a hardcore Targaryen supporter might actually be working for Lord Tywin? And even if someone did figure it out, who would believe them? Can they produce solid evidence to challenge him?"

Nymeria mounted her horse, scowling. "That's really dirty."

"Dirty?" Lynd raised an eyebrow. "This isn't dirty—it's the craft of true nobility. Achieving your goals without force? What could be more satisfying? This is the kind of strategy you should learn."

"Forget it. I can't stomach that kind of thing," Nymeria said, shaking her head. She pulled her reins and started back toward the camp. As Lynd followed, she added, "They'll leave tonight, but they didn't tell me their exact route. I don't think they'll go through The Reach to Dorne."

"Why not?" Lynd asked, puzzled.

"I don't know," Nymeria replied. "It's just a feeling."

By the time Lynd and Nymeria returned to the ruined camp, night had fully fallen. The guard at the entrance gave a wry smile as the two emerged from the trees, riding side by side.

Lynd offered no explanation. When they reached the camp entrance, he suggested Nymeria keep his warhorse. Nymeria accepted but remarked that when she found a good horse, she'd make sure to give it to Lynd in return.

Back at the camp, Lynd barely had time to rest before Scar-Eyed hurried in with a report. The scouts monitoring the group in the valley had sent word: the group had just packed up and begun moving.

After Lynd acknowledged that he already knew, Scar-Eyed added, "My lord, those people also left something behind."

"What is it?" Lynd asked.

"Some weapons, equipment, and money," Scar-Eyed replied.

Lynd thought for a moment before saying, "Take all that to Lady Nymeria and ask her what she wants to do with it."

Scar-Eyed nodded and stepped back, quickly gathering his men to head to the valley and retrieve the items.

Not long after Scar-Eyed departed, Raul came to see Lynd.

"What is it?" Lynd asked with a frown. "Is there a problem with the camp construction?"

"No," Raul replied, shaking his head. He hesitated before saying, "There's something you may not have noticed, my lord, but I feel I should bring it up. It might affect the morale of the team."

"What's so important?" Lynd asked suspiciously.

Raul hesitated again, speaking vaguely. "The barracks are full of men, with only a few women among the cooks. These men are full of energy and have some money in their hands."

Lynd was stunned for a moment, then realized what Raul was hinting at. He couldn't help but laugh. "You're not actually suggesting that I bring in prostitutes, are you? Even if I wanted to, where would I find them? And how many would be willing to risk being robbed by bandits to come to this remote place of Boulder?"

"You don't need to look for them elsewhere," Raul said carefully. "There are actually some right here. You could discuss it with the Lady and ask some of the women from Tumbleton…"

"You're insane!" Lynd stared at Raul with wide eyes. "You want me to go to Lady Nymeria and bring this up? I don't know if she'd chop me up alive, but if she finds out this was your idea, you're a dead man—and I won't stand in her way."

Raul shrank back, embarrassed, and muttered, "Actually, it's not necessary to say anything. Some of the guys down there are already doing it."

Lynd's expression grew serious. "Both parties are willing?"

"Yes, it's voluntary," Raul quickly confirmed.

Lynd thought for a moment. "Pass on my words: tell the men that if they can't control themselves, what they do is their own business. But one thing must be clear—everything must be consensual. There must be no coercion. Pay the women what they're owed, and if there's any trouble, I won't be lenient."

"Yes, my lord," Raul said, sweating profusely as he left Lynd's room in a hurry.