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Yoren's group joined Lynn's orderly formation.
Through their conversation, Yoren had already learned that Lynn was now following Lord Ned, so he naturally didn't dare to say much.
This made the group even more silent.
The more than thirty so-called "New Night's Watch" members stood in Stark contrast to the Northmen soldiers under Lynn's command, who were clad in iron armor and exuded a formidable aura.
The new recruits were dressed in rags, emanating the sour smell of long-unwashed bodies.
Some were timid, their eyes darting nervously, like rats accustomed to living in a gutter.
Others had fierce gazes, carrying the ruthlessness of a cornered beast.
Lynn and Arya walked side-by-side.
Arya also spoke in a low voice.
"Lynn, my father promised to help you get a lord's title. If you become a lord, will you be worthy of marrying me?"
Lynn paused.
Arya was still young and didn't deeply understand power or the issue of mismatched social standing.
She only knew that she wanted to be with whoever made her happy.
A typical Stark straightforwardness.
However, these words were clearly deliberately spoken to Arya by someone.
Lynn didn't deny it.
"Yes, as long as I become a lord, your father will definitely agree to me marrying you."
Arya's happiness made her talkative.
"It's true then, Jon didn't lie to me."
"He also told me to support you more and speak well of you to father..."
So it was Jon.
This boy had probably already discerned from the clues that Arya had different feelings for him.
After all, Jon and Arya had a very good relationship, so it wasn't surprising that he could see it.
Fortunately, Jon had no ill intentions, and Lynn's tense expression softened.
He turned and looked at Jon Snow behind him.
Jon was on horseback.
He wasn't looking at Lynn, but his gaze involuntarily drifted towards those men.
Jon saw a man with a missing ear.
He was staring intently at Arya with a pair of cloudy eyes, his gaze filled with naked greed.
He saw another man with a hideous scar on his face.
That man unashamedly licked his chapped lips, his eyes roving over the supplies of the group.
These people were his future "brothers"?
Jon's brows furrowed unconsciously.
His imagined Night's Watch was like his uncle Benjen, like Lynn, an iron bulwark composed of countless heroes defending their homeland.
Not this group of... rabble.
Calling them rabble was even overestimating this group of people.
"What are you looking at?"
A voice interrupted Jon's thoughts.
Tyrion Lannister, at some point, rode his pony next to Jon.
His mismatched eyes held a playful insight into human nature.
"Admiring your future comrades, little bastard brother?"
Jon's lips tightened into a stiff line.
"They are also Night's Watch."
Jon's voice carried a hint of defensiveness that he himself hadn't noticed.
"Oh, of course."
Tyrion nodded exaggeratedly, as if agreeing with a truth.
He took a sip of wine from the bullet-shaped flask he carried.
The spicy liquid made him squint contentedly.
"They are about to don the black and guard the realm."
"How noble."
Tyrion extended a short finger, pointing at a man with pointed ears and a monkey-like face.
"See that one?"
"I bet he's a thief."
"The kind of habitual offender who can't keep his hands to himself."
"Perhaps for a few pieces of bread, perhaps for a lady's necklace."
"The judge gave him a choice: lose his hand or go to the Wall."
"It seems he values his hand very much."
Jon's face paled slightly.
Tyrion's gaze then turned to the man with the scar on his face.
"And that one."
"Look at his walk, and those eyes."
"A murderer, no doubt."
"Perhaps for a whore in a tavern, perhaps for a bag of coins in an alley."
"The noose or going North, for him, it's the same outcome."
Tyrion's voice was not loud, but it precisely cut open the fragile layer of "honor" that Jon had draped over the Night's Watch in his heart.
"And that one, the fellow who keeps staring at Arya."
Tyrion's lips curled slightly.
"A rapist."
"The most disgusting kind."
"If not for Yoren's chains, I bet he would have pounced already."
"Castration or going to the Wall to be a celibate for life, for him, it certainly wasn't a difficult choice."
"He values his tool."
"However, I think any man would make the same choice as him."
Tyrion shrugged.
Jon's breathing became heavy.
His hand gripping the reins was white from exertion.
"Stop talking."
"Ha."
Tyrion let out a short laugh.
"Little bastard brother, what do you think the Wall is?"
"A hero's resting place?"
"No, no, no."
Tyrion shook his head exaggeratedly, as if correcting a child who had made a mistake.
"The Wall is the largest latrine in the Seven Kingdoms."
"All the dirty, stinking, unseen garbage eventually gets flushed there."
"Thieves, robbers, murderers, rapists, and..."
As Tyrion spoke the last word, his shrewd eyes fixed on Jon's face.
Jon's body stiffened on horseback.
He wanted to retort, but found himself unable to utter a single word.
What Tyrion said was the truth.
A truth he had always deliberately avoided, yet one that existed in a brutal way.
He looked up, once again at those "new brothers."
This time, what he saw were no longer future "brothers."
But specific, filthy crimes.
It was theft, robbery, murder, lust.
His long-held noble illusion of the Night's Watch was, at this moment, shattered by Tyrion in the cruelest way.
At the front of the group, Lynn reined in his horse.
He didn't look back, but he heard the conversation clearly.
Benjen still had his gentle expression, seemingly unconcerned by these things.
Seeing that everyone was silent, Tyrion lost interest.
He picked up a book and started reading it with relish again.
This also piqued Jon's curiosity.
"I noticed it before."
"You seem to be always reading."
"Why do you read so many books?"
Tyrion didn't even look up.
"Jon, I want you to look at me."
"Then, answer me, what do you see?"
Jon was a little unsure what to say.
Tyrion spoke first.
"I think you must want to say you see a dwarf."
"Indeed, I am a dwarf."
"If I were born into an ordinary family, I would probably have been drowned in a latrine by my parents long ago."
Tyrion continued to flip through the book in his hand.
"But I happened to be born in Casterly Rock, into the Lannister family."
"I am much-noticed."
"My sister is the queen."
"My nephew is the future king, Protector of the Entire Seven Kingdoms."
"And I?"
"Occupying the Lannister title, yet bearing no responsibility?"
"My brother has his sword."
"King Robert has his warhammer."
"And I, I have my mind."
Tyrion tapped his temple with a short finger.
"A sharp mind requires a lot of reading, just as a sword needs a whetstone to be sharp."
"That's why I read so many books."
Jon fell silent.
He looked at the dwarf before him.
For the first time, he felt that within Tyrion's small body, there was a strength not inferior to any knight.
Jon also thought of himself.
What would his own advantage be?
Tyrion looked up at Jon.
"I enjoy communicating with others."
"That way I can learn different ways of thinking from different people."
"What about you, little bastard brother?"
"It's your turn now."
"What's your story?"
Being called "little bastard brother" repeatedly, Jon rolled his eyes and replied ungraciously.
"Dwarf, beg me, and maybe I'll tell you if I'm in a good mood."
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