The room reeked of mold and wet stone.
The only window was set high up.
It was just a narrow slit, casting a pale, feeble shaft of daylight.
Lynn leaned against the corner, every muscle in his body protesting.
The weakness woven from hunger and cold clung to him like a festering wound, refusing to leave.
Lynn had gambled on Ned Stark's honor and won.
He had bought himself some time using the omens of the Old Gods.
But this was only a temporary reprieve.
One lie required countless others to cover it.
A prophecy required an even more shocking prophecy to prove it.
He was now like an acrobat on a tightrope, a bottomless abyss beneath his feet.
Any misstep would shatter him to pieces.
He had to increase his value quickly, making Ned Stark feel that killing him would be a loss.
An immeasurable loss.
Lynn's mind raced, piecing together fragments of his past life's knowledge about this world.
The warning about the White Walkers was just the beginning.
The omen of the direwolf was the second step.
Next, he needed to drop a real bombshell, news heavy enough to shake the entire North, perhaps even the Seven Kingdoms.
A tragedy that was about to happen and could not be stopped.
The current king, Robert Baratheon, and Ned Stark were sent to the Vale's Eyrie as children to be fostered by the Lord of the Eyrie, Jon Arryn.
Ned arrived eight years later than Robert.
The two brothers spent seven years together.
This forged a deep bond between Ned and Robert.
Ned's sister, Lyanna, was betrothed to Robert, further cementing their ties.
Their foster father, Lord Jon Arryn, was then the Lord of the Vale.
Old Jon Arryn was in his forties at the time and had no children, so he treated Ned and Robert like his own sons.
When the Mad King's son, Rhaegar, took Lyanna, Robert's betrothed, and then killed Ned's father and brother, he demanded that Jon Arryn hand over Robert and Ned.
These two young men were threats to House Targaryen.
Jon Arryn naturally refused and called his banners, sparking Robert's Rebellion.
It could be said that Jon Arryn was the benefactor of both Robert and Ned.
Lynn's hope now rested entirely on Jon Arryn.
Heavy footsteps sounded outside the door, interrupting Lynn's thoughts.
Creak.
The heavy wooden door was pushed open.
It wasn't a guard who walked in, but an old man in grey maester's robes.
Around his neck hung a chain forged from different metals, each link representing a field of study he had mastered.
Maester Luwin.
The "brain" of Winterfell.
He was also one of Ned Stark's most trusted advisors.
Maester Luwin's gaze was calm and sharp, carrying a scholar's prudence.
He didn't speak immediately, just quietly observed Lynn.
From his pale face to his tattered black clothes, to those eyes that remained bright even in the dim light.
"They say you prophesied the appearance of the direwolf."
Maester Luwin's voice was gentle, betraying no emotion.
"I made no prophecy."
Lynn's voice was somewhat hoarse.
"I merely interpreted the warning of the Old Gods."
"Old Gods?"
Maester Luwin chewed on the word, his grey eyebrows raising slightly.
"You claim to have seen White Walkers, and now you mention the Old Gods."
"Young man, do you know what you are saying?"
"I do."
Lynn met his gaze without flinching.
"I know that Winter is Coming."
Maester Luwin fell silent.
He walked to the only table in the room and set down the items he had brought.
A piece of bread, a bowl of hot soup, and a small cup of medicine.
"Lord Stark asked me to check on your health."
Maester Luwin's tone remained flat.
"And to hear what else you might interpret."
Lynn didn't move.
He knew that Maester Luwin's real interrogation was just beginning.
Maester Luwin represented Ned Stark's reason and skepticism.
"Maester, do you believe in the existence of White Walkers?"
Lynn asked in return.
"I believe in the records of history."
Maester Luwin's answer was watertight.
"History says they were driven back thousands of years ago."
Lynn shook his head.
"History also says direwolves haven't appeared south of the Wall for two hundred years."
Lynn's words made Maester Luwin pause.
Lynn continued.
"A mother wolf, dead on the road, throat pierced by a stag's antler, marks of a lion's claws on her body."
"The stag is Baratheon, the lion is Lannister, the wolf is Stark."
"This is no coincidence, Maester."
"This is the coming storm."
Maester Luwin turned around, looking deeply at Lynn.
"You seem well-versed in southern heraldry."
"A Night's Watch deserter shouldn't know these things."
Lynn's heart skipped a beat.
It was a trap.
He was acting too unlike an ordinary brother of the Night's Watch.
"I wasn't born a man of the Night's Watch."
Lynn lowered his eyelids, his tone dropping.
"Before I donned the black, I had a family, read a few books."
The explanation was weak, but it was the only one he had.
Maester Luwin didn't press further.
He simply pushed the cup of medicine toward Lynn.
"Drink it. It will do you good."
Lynn looked at the cloudy liquid but didn't move.
"Maester."
His voice dropped lower, carrying a deliberately crafted sense of mystery and unease.
"The warning of the Old Gods is not limited to the North."
Maester Luwin's brows furrowed.
"What do you mean?"
"The center of the storm is not Winterfell, but King's Landing."
Lynn looked up, staring fixedly at Maester Luwin.
"No matter how high the Falcon flies, it cannot escape fate's hunt."
Maester Luwin's pupils contracted sharply.
Falcon.
House Arryn of the Eyrie.
Jon Arryn.
Hand of the King.
Warden of the East.
Foster father to both Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon.
Throughout the Seven Kingdoms, he was the symbol of stability and order.
"What exactly are you trying to say?"
For the first time, a nearly imperceptible tremor entered Maester Luwin's voice.
Lynn knew he had captured the man's full attention.
He leaned in closer, speaking word by word in a voice only the two of them could hear.
"The Hand of the King, Lord Jon Arryn."
"Is already dead. The news just hasn't arrived yet."
"He didn't die of illness, nor of old age."
"He was murdered."
Boom!
The sentence was like a thunderclap in Maester Luwin's mind.
His face instantly turned ashen.
He subconsciously took a step back, bumping into the table behind him with a loud clatter.
"Nonsense!"
Maester Luwin lost his gentle demeanor, shouting sternly.
But the horror in his voice could not be concealed.
"Do you know what you are accusing? This is treason!"
"I am accusing no one."
Lynn leaned back against the wall.
His body trembled slightly from weakness.
But his gaze remained firm.
"I am merely conveying the warning I saw."
"Soon, a raven from King's Landing will bear witness for me."
"The King will ride North to invite Lord Ned south to take Lord Jon Arryn's place."
"And that is the beginning of all tragedy."
Lynn paused, staring dead at Maester Luwin.
"If not handled properly, Lord Ned will also die in King's Landing!"
The room fell into a deathly silence.
Only the sound of Maester Luwin's heavy breathing remained.
He looked at Lynn as if looking at a demon crawled out of hell.
Every word this deserter spoke struck precisely on the most sensitive nerves of Westeros.
From the White Walkers in the North to the conspiracies in King's Landing.
All of this went far beyond the scope of lies a deserter could fabricate.
It wasn't a lie.
It was... a prophecy.
A prophecy terrifying enough to suffocate.
After a long time.
Maester Luwin finally found his voice.
"Who else have you told this to?"
"Only you, Maester."
Lynn replied respectfully.
"Remember, do not tell anyone else."
Maester Luwin took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.
He picked up the bread and soup from the table and shoved them back into Lynn's hands.
This time, his actions were no longer indifferent but carried a force that allowed no refusal.
"Eat this."
"Live."
"Until the raven arrives, you must live."
With that, Maester Luwin didn't look at Lynn again, turning and striding quickly out of the room.
The heavy wooden door closed once more.
The sound of the lock clicking echoed in the empty corridor.
Lynn leaned back against the wall and let out a long breath.
Cold sweat had soaked his back.
He knew he had just walked along the cliff's edge again.
But he had won the gamble.
He had thoroughly entangled his fate with Jon Arryn's death, with Ned's journey south, with these muddy waters.
Lynn picked up the now lukewarm soup and drank it in large gulps.
Warmth flowed into his stomach, dispelling some of the chill.
He had to survive.
He had to get stronger quickly.
Lynn's gaze fell once again on the panel only he could see.
[Experience: 0]
Now, he needed to gain Ned's trust.
Only then could he regain his freedom.
Instead of being locked in this small room, unable to do anything.