Game of Thrones: Knight's Honor-Chapter 353: The Bargain

Lynd's so-called solution left Stannis and the Dragonstone vassals visibly grim-faced.

Everyone knew the sort of men that filled the ranks of the Night's Watch. Though some knights and sellswords had joined in recent years thanks to the efforts of Lynd and Willas, the bulk of the Watch was still made up of criminals. To them, being named Lord Commander was little more than becoming the leader of a band of outlaws.

To Stannis and his men, Lynd's offer felt like an insult.

But Lynd ignored the anger on their faces and went on calmly.

"Lord Commander Jeor Mormont was recently assassinated by traitors within the Night's Watch. No successor has been chosen yet, because none of the current candidates are fit to lead the Watch against the wildling tribes beyond the Wall—let alone the White Walkers now moving south. That's why the next Lord Commander must be someone capable and responsible—someone who can truly defend the Wall.

"When I left the Wall, I appointed Samwell Tarly as acting commander. He's competent, but not strong enough. He's been able to manage day-to-day matters, but with the wildlings stepping up their assaults, he clearly isn't suited to lead in wartime. So I need to choose someone new, and quickly.

"Lord Stannis, out of all the candidates I've considered, you are the one best suited to become the next Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."

"You've considered candidates?" Stannis's anger began to cool as he listened. He looked to Lynd and asked, "Who have you considered for the role?"

Lynd replied, "Lord Tywin Lannister, Lord Brynden 'Blackfish' Tully, Lord Yohn 'Bronze' Royce—and myself."

"You included yourself?" Stannis raised a brow. "Why would you be on the list?"

Lynd shrugged. "Why not? Holding back the White Walkers is no small matter. I'll certainly be at the Wall when the great war begins—I won't sit out a battle that will be written into legend. So yes, becoming Lord Commander and leading the Watch against the White Walkers isn't out of the question."

"In that case," Stannis pressed, "why don't you take the position yourself?" freewebnøvel.com

"Because I have more important matters to attend to," Lynd said seriously. "The White Walkers are only one of the disasters we'll face. When the true catastrophe comes, even the Wall won't be enough to stop it. I must prepare for that—while there's still time."

Stannis frowned. "What kind of disaster could even the Wall fail to hold back?"

"The Long Night. The Eternal Winter." The answer didn't come from Lynd, but from Melisandre. She stepped forward and stood beside Stannis. "Your Grace, do you remember the visions I spoke of—the revelations from the Lord of Light? You are destined to become Azor Ahain, the one who will stand against the servants of the god of eternal winter. The turning point has come. Becoming Lord Commander of the Night's Watch is your destiny—it was always meant to be."

Stannis hesitated, looking between Melisandre and Lynd.

"You mentioned a turning point," he said dryly, "and then he showed up. Are the two of you in league?"

Lynd blinked in surprise and turned to look at Melisandre, clearly caught off guard.

"These are the Lord's revelations," Melisandre replied cryptically, implying that even Lynd's arrival was foretold and guided by the Lord of Light.

Stannis turned to the vassals standing behind him.

"What about the rest of you? What do you think of Prince Lynd's offer?"

"We will follow Your Grace," they replied.

Most of the Dragonstone bannermen gave that answer, though only a few noble knights from the Stormlands did—and Salladhor Saan was conspicuously silent.

"I am willing to fight and die for Your Grace, no matter who stands against us," said Davos, the Onion Knight, standing tall.

A flicker of disappointment crossed Stannis's face. It wasn't that so few still pledged to follow him—it was what they said.

What he had wanted to hear was defiance. He had hoped they would stand firm, declare loudly that they would die to defend Dragonstone Castle. But instead, their words betrayed fear. They had been cowed by Lynd. They no longer wished to resist him, and in their hearts, they had already accepted his offer.

Only Davos, a knight of humble birth, gave the answer Stannis had longed to hear. But he was just one onion knight—only one.

After his disappointment faded, Stannis turned to Lynd and said sternly, "You think you can take Dragonstone from me with just a few words? That's far too easy."

"What if I trade you Storm's End?" Lynd replied with a smile.

"What?" Stannis was stunned, not understanding what Lynd meant.

Lynd explained, "I'll take Shireen as my adopted daughter. When she comes of age, I'll give her Storm's End and name her the Lady of Storm's End and Warden of the Stormlands. What do you think?"

Stannis froze where he stood, his expression too complex to describe.

There was no doubt—Storm's End had always been his deepest source of resentment. During the war, he had earned great merit, holding Storm's End for Robert and stalling the forces of the Reach, while Renly had been nothing more than a weeping child.

And yet, after the war, the title of Lord of Storm's End and Warden of the Stormlands didn't go to him. Instead, he was made Lord of Dragonstone, while Storm's End—ancestral seat of House Baratheon—was handed to Renly, who had done nothing during the war. How could he not bear a grudge?

Perhaps the only moment of real joy he'd felt was hearing that Robert—the man who had humiliated him for over a decade—had been gored to death by a boar. He had mourned Renly's death, yes, but when Robert died, Stannis had actually allowed himself a rare indulgence: a bottle of wine.

So when he heard Lynd's offer, his reaction was one of shock.

"Are you serious?" Stannis asked, regaining his composure.

"I don't joke about matters like this," Lynd answered firmly.

Stannis thought for a moment, then turned to the Onion Knight. "Go. Bring Shireen."

Davos nodded and quickly made his way back into the castle. Not long after, he returned, leading a young girl.

With her came Shireen's mother, Selyse Florent, several servants, and Patchface, the jester with a face painted in multicolored patterns.

Lynd's gaze passed over the group before resting on Patchface.

Even without using his enhanced sight, Lynd could sense the sea-salt-tinged aura of mysterious power radiating from Patchface. He wasn't a god's chosen one—he simply bore the imprint of some ancient power, much like Willas and Garth Greenhand. That same power preserved his life unnaturally, making him, in many ways, similar to a wight—or more accurately, a White Walker.

As the group approached, the normally cheerful Patchface suddenly grew timid, shrinking behind Shireen to avoid Lynd's gaze. But her small frame was far too slight to conceal his bulk, making the sight rather absurd.

Stannis's face darkened at Patchface's behavior, clearly embarrassed. But when his gaze shifted to Shireen, a rare softness crept into his expression.

To help Nymeria win over Chroyane of Heartbreak Ridge, a research base had been set up by Black Cave at the edge of the region to study greyscale. With the aid of sacrificial stone tablets, draconic runes, and other forms of rune magic, the base had quickly developed potions to suppress the disease. These treatments could halt early-stage infections, slow its spread, ease patients' suffering, and—most notably—help restore mental clarity.

Once the potions proved effective, Nymeria succeeded in subduing Chroyane. When word of the cure spread, Stannis personally sent men to Summerhall to find Lynd and, at great cost, purchased a batch for Shireen.

During treatment, the formula went through three refinements, gradually shifting from suppression to actual cure. Now, the greyscale on Shireen had faded from a thick, keratinized crust to a thin, hardened shell. In some places, new skin had even begun to grow. Though her appearance was still uneven—and perhaps even more unsightly than before—for the patient, it brought real relief.

The moment Shireen stepped out of the castle, her eyes locked onto Neltharion, the lava dragon lounging in the square. Her gaze lit up with curiosity and excitement. If someone hadn't held her back, she might have rushed straight toward the dragon.

"Shireen, come here. I'd like to introduce you to someone," Stannis said, waving to her with a tone so gentle it was barely recognizable.

Shireen started toward him, but Patchface, timid as ever, clung to her clothes from behind. She turned, patted his head reassuringly, and motioned for him to let go. Only then did she step forward, bowing politely to Stannis, the gathered nobles of Dragonstone, and Lynd.

"Father. My lords. Prince Lynd."

"Looks like I don't need to introduce you," Stannis said, affectionately patting her head. He nodded toward Lynd. "He will be your foster father from now on. Go greet him."

Shireen froze for a moment, confused. She looked at Stannis, then at Lynd.

Lynd stepped forward, knelt down, removed his helmet, and cradled it under one arm. He gave her a warm smile.

"For a while, you'll live in Summerhall as my adopted daughter. Of course, if you don't like it there, you can stay in Ny Sar in the Kingdom of Lorne—that place is very pleasant. And if you'd like, you're welcome to travel with me when I inspect my lands across the world. I promise it's far more interesting than staying cooped up on Dragonstone."

"Travel the world?" Shireen's eyes lit up at once. Scenes from the stories she'd read sprang to mind. "Can we go to Qarth? I read in a book that it's the easternmost city in the world."

Lynd chuckled. "Qarth? That's far from the easternmost. The furthest known city is Asshai, a place carved entirely from a single massive slab of black stone. It's five or six times the size of King's Landing. I've already taken the city. The dark sorcerer known as the King of Asshai has sworn allegiance to me. But it's not the best time to visit—monsters from the Shadow Lands, demons and vampires and worse, have been rioting and attacked the city. We've pushed them back, but it's still not entirely safe."

Shireen's eyes went wide with awe. And she wasn't the only one—Stannis and the others were equally stunned. They had known Lynd controlled vast lands in Essos, but none of them had imagined that his influence now reached the legendary city of Asshai.

Stannis had only heard of Asshai as a name from far-off tales, but Melisandre had lived there for many years. It was where she had learned the dark arts of the Shadowbinders. She knew exactly who Lynd was referring to when he mentioned the King of Asshai—and that made her all the more shocked.

She couldn't stop herself from asking, "You mean the dark sorcerer Jaben of Asshai has submitted to you?"

"That shouldn't be so hard to believe, should it?" Lynd said, turning slightly to Nymeria.

Melisandre shook her head. "It's impossible. Jaben is not the kind of sorcerer who would ever kneel to anyone. Even if your power was stronger—strong enough to kill him—he still wouldn't submit."

Lynd smiled. "You're right. Being stronger isn't enough to bend a man like him. But if your strength exceeds even his imagination, then that pride he clings to will be erased by fear."

"What did you do to crush his pride?" Melisandre asked, unable to hide her curiosity.

"I destroyed Stygai," Lynd replied calmly.

Melisandre froze in place.

She had never imagined Lynd would claim to have destroyed that city—the city of the dead, the one place even she dared not go near. She considered whether he might be lying, but she quickly dismissed the thought. Lynd wouldn't lie about something like this, not when she, of all people, could easily find out the truth.

While Lynd and Melisandre spoke, Stannis and the others listened in utter confusion. They didn't understand what was being discussed—only that Lynd had destroyed something called Stygai.

"What is Stygai?" Stannis finally asked Melisandre, curiosity getting the better of him.

"A city," Melisandre said, her voice low and solemn. "One of the most dangerous places in the world. It lies upstream of the Ash River, deep in the heart of the Shadow Lands, at the base of the Black Abyss. It's said to be a gateway to the seven levels of hell. Countless demons, ghouls, and unimaginable monsters dwell there. Even the most powerful Shadowbinders dare not approach it lightly."

A chill rippled through everyone who heard her words.

After finishing her explanation, Melisandre suddenly paused as something occurred to her.

"You said earlier that monsters from the Shadow Lands rioted and attacked Asshai. Is that... connected to your destruction of Stygai?"

"Maybe," Lynd replied vaguely.