In the wan light of the northern sky, the dagger in Lynn's hand glinted with a cold, spectral light.
Following his gaze, everyone's eyes fell upon the new recruits—Grenn, Pyp, and the others.
The faces of the young men turned as white as the snow beneath their boots. They began to tremble uncontrollably.
"Grenn."
Lynn's voice was calm, yet it carried an authority that brooked no refusal.
The burly boy, who had once tried to teach Jon Snow a lesson with his fists, flinched violently. He looked up, meeting Lynn's abyssal gaze.
"Do you recognize this dagger?"
Grenn's lips quivered.
He wanted to shake his head. He wanted to deny it.
But Lynn's stare was like two sharp blades, piercing through every lie he could muster.
He knew that if he uttered a single word of denial, the Valyrian steel sword, Longclaw, would take his head without mercy.
In the face of absolute power and authority, hope was a foolish thing.
"I... I..."
Grenn couldn't form a complete sentence.
"Pyp."
Lynn turned to the lanky boy next to him.
Pyp was even worse off than Grenn. His legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees with a thud.
"My Lord! Lord Lynn! It wasn't me!"
He cried out, tears and snot running down his face.
"It was... it was Ser Alliser! He forced us! He made us do it!"
The accusation struck the courtyard like a lightning bolt.
Instantly, the yard erupted into an uproar!
"You lie!"
Alliser Thorne's eyes went red in an instant. Like a cornered beast, he lunged at Pyp, raising his boot to kick the boy.
"You baseborn gutter rat! How dare you slander me!"
But before he could land the blow, two massive figures blocked his path.
Torrhen and Jason.
They stood like iron towers, shielding Pyp between them. Their longswords were already drawn, the cold steel pointed directly at Thorne's throat.
"Ser Alliser!"
Torrhen's voice was as biting as the northern wind.
"Show some respect!"
"Lord Lynn is conducting an interrogation!"
Thorne froze mid-step.
He looked at the two blades leveled at him, then at the undisguised killing intent in Torrhen and Jason's eyes.
A chill shot from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head.
Only now did he realize, with dawning horror, that the "deserter" he had looked down upon possessed the power to crush him like an insect.
No!
He probably could have crushed me long ago!
It's all my fault for provoking him...
The hundred Northmen under Lynn's command obeyed him without question. The unruly Rangers had been cowed into submission with a single strike. Even the Lord Commander had become his staunchest supporter!
And what did Thorne have?
He was surrounded by a few useless lackeys who could do nothing but jeer.
The tide has turned.
The thought echoed in Thorne's mind.
Or perhaps... the tide had never been with him to begin with.
"Pyp, continue," Lynn said, ignoring Thorne's outburst. His voice remained perfectly even.
Pyp knelt on the ground, shaking like a leaf. He glanced at the ashen-faced Thorne, then at the composed Lynn, and finally summoned every ounce of courage he possessed.
"It was... it was Ser Alliser."
"Ser Alliser is cruel. He humbles us in the training yard, beats us..."
"That night, Ser Alliser called us recruits to him."
Pyp's voice was thick with sobs, halting and broken.
"He said... he said you were dangerous. A restless deserter. That keeping you at Castle Black would only bring ruin."
"He told us to go to your room at night..."
"He said that if any one of us could kill you, he would make us full brothers of the Watch. He even promised to recommend us for the Rangers!"
"The one who died... we didn't really know him well. But he was blinded by greed... and he agreed..."
"Thorne gave him silver stags right in front of us!" Grenn dropped to his knees as well, shouting his defense.
"It was Thorne! He forced us!"
"He said after the deed was done, he'd have your body thrown from the Wall for the shadowcats and direwolves, and blame it all on the Wildlings!"
"He said he had it all arranged. It would be foolproof!"
"We wanted to tell the Lord Commander," Grenn added desperately. "But Thorne only gave verbal orders. We had no proof. He would have turned it around on us."
"And he's the Master-at-Arms. If we failed to bring him down, he would have made our lives a living hell..."
Mormont stood among the crowd, his face darkening with every word.
Thorne is a beast!
To order the assassination of a brother right under my nose...
Lawless. Absolutely lawless.
The truth was laid bare for all to see.
Every brother of the Watch looked at Alliser Thorne with a mix of contempt and fury.
Inciting recruits to turn on one another.
Hiring assassins to kill a sworn brother.
Framing the innocent.
Every single act was a violation of the Night's Watch's most sacred laws!
Was this the conduct of a Master-at-Arms? Of a so-called anointed knight?
It was lower than the crimes of the poachers and rapers they looked down upon!
"Thorne!"
Jeor Mormont's roar echoed through the courtyard.
The Old Bear's body shook with rage. He marched up to Thorne, his sharp eyes burning with a fire that could turn a man to ash.
"What do you have to say for yourself?"
"I... I didn't! They conspired to frame me!"
Thorne was still making a desperate last stand.
"Lord Commander! You cannot trust the words of these bastards!"
"They are in league with Lynn!"
"Is that so?"
Lynn let out a cold laugh.
From his tunic, he pulled out a small coin purse.
He upended it over the snow.
A dozen silver stags spilled out, glinting harshly in the sunlight.
"These were found on the assassin my guard killed."
Lynn turned his gaze to Bowen Marsh in the crowd.
"Lord Steward Marsh. I recall that all financial expenditures for Castle Black pass through your hands, correct?"
The round-faced steward blinked, startled, then nodded.
"Yes, Lord Lynn."
"Then let me ask you."
Lynn pointed to the silver coins on the ground.
"Recently, has any officer of the castle requested such a sum for 'extra expenses' from you?"
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