14th Day of the First Moon, 282 AC – Near Maidenpool, Riverlands
The camp sprawled outside the ruined walls of Maidenpool, a sea of banners and fires against the chill night. The town had suffered badly under loyalist raids — its gates shattered, its market square blackened by fire. The stink of burned grain and dead fish hung heavy on the air, and the harbor lay eerily quiet, the masts of sunken ships jutting from the water like broken spears.
The Stark host had claimed what shelter remained. Soldiers patched roofs, herded the surviving townsfolk into safer quarters, and raised their own tents along the road. The men were weary but steadier than when they first marched; the lessons Jin Mu-Won taught them — breathing, balance, laughter — had seeped into their bones. They moved with more calm than most rebels, more unity than most lords expected.
And yet, unseen eyes watched them.
---
Jin sat cross-legged beside the campfire, his staff across his knees, repairing a torn cloak for one of the boys who had followed the host from Saltpans. His hands moved steadily, each stitch neat and even. Around him, soldiers laughed quietly, some sharing salted fish, others simply watching the flames.
One soldier leaned close, lowering his voice. "Master Jin, did you see them?"
Jin glanced up. "See what?"
"Strangers," the man whispered. "Two men came into camp this morning. Said they were merchants. But their boots were too clean, and they kept asking after you. After the Shield."
Murmurs stirred among the men. Another muttered, "Spies. Crown or lion, makes no difference. They sniff for weakness."
Jin's gaze was calm, his needle pausing. "And what did you tell them?"
The soldier flushed. "That you were only a sellsword who took pity on us. That you aren't what they say."
Jin gave a faint smile. "Wise. Truth often travels faster than lies, but lies give it slower legs."
The men chuckled nervously. But even laughter could not wholly hide their unease.
---
That night, Jin walked the edges of camp, his steps silent, his breath steady. The air was cold, the stars sharp above. His qi spread out like ripples in a pond, brushing against lives around him — men breathing in sleep, horses stamping in stalls, the faint scurry of rats in broken walls.
And there — shadows moving too carefully, steps too measured. Not soldiers, not townsfolk. Spies.
Jin flowed toward them. He found two men near the broken market square, cloaks drawn, daggers at their belts. They froze when he stepped from the shadows, his staff in hand, his gaze calm.
One spat, trying for bravado. "We're only merchants."
Jin's voice was quiet, steady. "Merchants do not carry poisoned blades. Nor do they ask for the Shield by name."
The man cursed and drew steel. His companion followed, lunging. But Jin's staff moved like water. A twist, a sweep — and both were disarmed, their blades clattering to the stones. He tapped one man's wrist, and the bone cracked. The man screamed, dropping to his knees.
Jin stood over them, staff steady. "Who sent you?"
The wounded man whimpered. "Lions… Lannister gold. They said to watch, to measure, to send word if the Shield was real."
Jin's gaze was cold. "And what did you see?"
The man trembled. "That you are… no man at all. A demon. A god. I don't know—"
Jin struck the staff into the earth beside his head, silencing him. His voice was low, edged with steel. "I am a man. Remember that. And remember also that men bleed when fools spill blood for crowns."
He bound them and left them for Ned's judgment.
---
At dawn, the lords gathered. Brandon Stark laughed at the spies, his fire untamed. "So Tywin stirs at last. Good. Let him watch, let him fear."
Ned was more grave. "It is not fear that troubles me. It is patience. Tywin waits always until the last moment. When he moves, it will be ruin."
Jin listened in silence, then said, "A sword held too long grows dull. A lion that waits too long grows hungry. Both will cut deeper when loosed."
The lords looked at him strangely, but Ned nodded.
---
Meanwhile, among the smallfolk huddled near the camp, children played by the fires. One boy tugged at Jin's sleeve as he passed. "Master Jin? When you stood against them last night… you didn't kill them. Why?"
Jin paused, kneeling so his eyes met the child's. "Because their lives weigh the same as yours. If I kill every man who lifts a blade, then I am no shield. I am only another sword."
The boy frowned. "But what if they come again?"
Jin's gaze softened. "Then I will stand again. And again. Until the day I cannot. That is what it means to shield."
The boy did not fully understand, but he smiled, comforted. The mothers whispered blessings under their breath.
---
That night, Ned joined Jin again by the fire. He studied him for a long time, his face lined with care. "You never sleep. You never tire. What are you truly, Jin?"
Jin looked into the flames, his voice slow. "A man who failed his world. A man who swore never to fail again."
Ned was silent, but in his heart, he felt both kinship and sorrow. For he too knew what it was to carry burdens one could never set down.
---
Far from Maidenpool, whispers spread.
In King's Landing, Varys heard of the Shield defeating spies without bloodshed. He smiled faintly, his little birds singing. "A dangerous man. Too dangerous for Robert, too dangerous for the lions."
In Casterly Rock, Tywin read the report in silence, his golden eyes gleaming. "So the Shield lives. Then let him shield. It will make the breaking sweeter."
In Sunspear, Oberyn raged, hearing that Lannister spies sought the Shield. "Let them try. If they harm him, I will flay them myself."
And in Elia's chamber, she held her children close, whispering as she always did. "Shield us. Shield us still."
---
And so, as the rebellion deepened, Jin Mu-Won's shadow spread further across the realm. Not as a king, not as a conqueror, but as a man who bent storms, who spared lives, who made men stand where they would have fallen.
The Shield.
And spies or no spies, his vow endured.
---