The Throne Room was completely out of control.
The screams of the noblewomen almost tore the roof off the Red Keep.
Several timid courtiers even collapsed to the ground, a foul stench emanating from their breeches.
Even the arrogant Lannister Guards, usually so formidable, were now pale with fear, their swords almost slipping from their grasp.
They had never seen such a bizarre monster!
Its arm was severed, yet its ferocity remained undiminished!
The severed hand on the ground continued to claw at the hard stone slabs, making a "scratching" sound, as if the limb had a life of its own!
They had never seen such an eerie creature and were all terrified.
"Burn it! Burn it with fire, quickly!"
Ned, who had learned how to deal with these dead men from Lynn, was the first to react. He drew his sword, shielding Robert, and roared at the surrounding Guards.
However, fear had already robbed those Guards of their ability to think.
"Everyone, move aside."
Lynn pushed aside the Guards in front of him and took a burning torch from The Wall.
He slowly walked towards the wight that was still frantically crashing against the iron cage.
The wight seemed to sense the threat of the flames; its eerie blue eyes fixed on Lynn.
It suddenly thrust its remaining hand through the gaps in the bars, reaching for Lynn's face!
Lynn did not dodge.
He simply poured the pre-prepared lamp oil onto it.
Then, he gently extended the torch in his hand.
Hiss—!
The moment the flames touched the wight's dry skin, it ignited like hot oil meeting a spark, burning fiercely!
Black flames quickly spread along its arm, engulfing its entire body!
The wight let out a chilling shriek, not unlike a human's, twisting and rolling frantically in the cage.
A sickening smell, a mixture of burnt flesh and decay, instantly filled the entire hall.
Lynn remained expressionless, and then brought the torch closer to the still-moving severed hand on the ground.
Under the licking flames, the severed hand quickly turned into a lump of charcoal, finally ceasing to move.
A few minutes later, the shrieking in the cage gradually subsided.
The former wight was now just a charred, foul-smelling skeleton.
The entire Throne Room was deadly silent.
Everyone looked on with awe, their gaze shifting from the smoking iron cage to Lynn, who held the torch, as if he had anticipated all of this.
The smell of wine and the rage on Robert Baratheon's face had vanished without a trace.
In their place was a look of utter shock and bewilderment, his understanding of the world completely overturned.
His corpulent body trembled slightly on the cold Iron Throne.
"What... what in the seven hells is that thing?"
The imperious tone in Robert's voice was gone.
"This is the common threat to all living beings."
"Wights."
Lynn reinserted the torch into The Wall, turned around, and met everyone's gaze.
"Soldiers of the dead, resurrected by creatures we call Others."
"They feel no pain, know no fatigue, and ordinary swords cannot kill them."
"Only fire, or dragonglass."
"They are the vanguard of the Long Night, the harbingers of Winter."
"Your Majesty, this is our true enemy."
"Nonsense!"
Grand Maester Pycelle shakily stood up, his old face flushed red with excitement.
"Others... wights... these are just ancient legends to scare children!"
"They are baseless tales long disproved by The Citadel!"
"The Citadel in the South is qualified to disprove?"
Lynn chuckled, pointing at the charred skeleton in the cage.
"You really should go see for yourselves beyond The Wall in the North."
"Grand Maester, since you say so, can you explain with the knowledge of The Citadel why this 'baseless tale' of yours was moving just now?"
Pycelle's lips trembled, unable to utter a single word.
"Your Majesty."
Lynn no longer paid attention to the old fool; his gaze returned to Robert.
"Beyond The Wall, every person who dies, whether by sword, freezing, or starvation, is turned into one of these monsters by the Others."
"Even mummies buried for hundreds of years, even just a pile of bones, can be resurrected!"
"They are not just killing, Your Majesty, they are conscripting."
"For every warrior we lose, their army gains a soldier."
"How can we win this war?"
Robert's breathing grew heavy.
He was a warrior; he immediately understood the terrifying implications behind these words.
An army that grows with every kill!
"What does this have to do with the wildlings?"
Renly Baratheon frowned, unable to help but ask.
"Of course it does." Lynn's gaze swept over him.
"Because those wildlings are not our enemies."
"They are merely refugees fleeing this disaster."
"I let them through The Wall for four reasons."
Lynn held up his first finger.
"First, if I didn't let them in, they would die beyond The Wall. Then, these dead wildlings would become part of the wight army."
"Every wildling I bring in means we will have one less unkillable monster to deal with in the future, and one more helper to fight against the dead."
"This is a matter of give and take."
A suppressed gasp echoed through the hall.
This logic was simple and brutal, yet no one could refute it.
Lynn held up his second finger.
"Second, what did we gain?"
"I gained eighty thousand warriors accustomed to fighting in ice and snow."
"They understand the Others better than we do; they have fought these monsters for hundreds of years."
"When the Long Night descends, when the wight army is at our gates, they will stand by our side, fighting for Your Majesty, fighting to protect this land!"
Robert's eyes lit up.
An army of eighty thousand!
Lynn held up his third finger.
"Third, Your Majesty, the North is harsh, and the Gifted Lands have been barren for hundreds of years."
"Now, what does the addition of hundreds of thousands of wildlings mean?"
"It means that before the long Winter arrives, those barren lands will be re-cultivated, it means that the North's food production will double, it means they will provide taxes, labor, and soldiers for the kingdom!"
"They are no longer savages; they are your subjects!"
"A strong and prosperous North will only solidify your rule!"
Ned Stark looked at Lynn, his grey eyes filled with shock and relief.
He had only seen the trouble the wildlings brought.
But Lynn had already planned a future capable of changing the entire landscape of the North!
"Fourth."
Lynn held up his last finger.
"What if we don't let these wildlings in?"
"We would forever be guarding the northern frontier, wary of a hundred-thousand-strong army that could gather at any moment."
"They would constantly harass us, attempting to attack and cross The Wall, which would consume a great deal of our manpower and resources."
"Or, even worse..."
Lynn's gaze once again turned to the iron cage.
"We would wait for the Others to turn these one hundred thousand wildling warriors, and two hundred thousand wildling women and children, all into wights."
"Then, we would face an army of the dead, suddenly increased by one hundred thousand, or even three hundred thousand!"
"Oh, and these dead don't understand chivalry; they feel no fear, nor mercy, and will only turn every living, moving creature into one of their own."
As Lynn's words fell, the entire Throne Room was silent.
Everyone was awestruck by the grand and terrifying vision Lynn had painted.
The courtiers who had previously gloated, preparing to watch Lynn's downfall, now only wore solemn expressions.
They realized that what Lynn had done was not about amassing power or plotting treason at all.
He was saving the entire kingdom in his own way!
"The Seven above..." Robert murmured.
He descended from the throne, step by step, walking to the iron cage, staring intently at the charred skeleton inside.
Fear, excitement, fervor... countless emotions intertwined in his cloudy eyes.
As a warrior, he detested the intrigues of the court, the endless bills and meetings.
But now, a truly worthy enemy for him to wield his warhammer against had appeared!
"An army of the dead..."
Robert suddenly turned around, and on his corpulent face, a hint of the boldness and spirit of his youth actually emerged!
"Hahahahaha!"
He burst into laughter, his laughter echoing through the hall.
"This is the kind of war a King should fight!"
He walked in front of Lynn, and his large, fan-like hand clapped heavily on his shoulder.
"Good lad! Well done!"
"You not only brought me the head of a Targaryen bastard, but also an army of eighty thousand!"
"King-Beyond-the-Wall? To hell with the King-Beyond-the-Wall!"
Robert waved his large hand, his voice clear as a bell.
"What I promised you before."
"As long as you brought back the head of the Targaryen remnant, I would grant you a fief and release you from your Night's Watch vows!"
"I keep my word!"
"From today onwards, your Gifted Lands will be your fief!"
"You shall serve the Kingdom better as Ned's vassal!"
"I want you to be my first line of defense against the Long Night!"
"The Night's Watch vows will no longer bind you; you can marry and have children, and no one will care if you marry a hundred, and your eldest son will inherit the fief forever!"
"I heard you became the new Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, but breaking your vows will ultimately not command respect, so step down and choose someone else from the Night's Watch to take the position."
For a moment, the entire hall was stunned!
Ned Stark's mouth hung open; he couldn't believe his ears.
Duke Renly was equally dumbfounded.
A flicker of bewilderment crossed Cersei's eyes.
What immense favor this was!
Lynn knelt on one knee, and this time, a hint of a smile played on his face.
"I am willing to die for Your Majesty."
"Good! Good! Good!"
Robert said "good" three times in a row; he had never felt so invigorated as he did today.
He felt as if he had returned to his youth, when he smashed Rhaegar Targaryen's chest with his warhammer at the Trident.
However, just as the king and his subject were in perfect harmony, and the atmosphere reached its peak, an untimely voice softly spoke up.
"His Majesty the King, perhaps you should calm down."
Everyone looked in the direction of the voice.
It was Petyr Baelish, "Littlefinger," sitting in his wheelchair.
His face still wore that harmless smile, but in his flickering eyes, a chilling coldness was hidden.
"Lord Lynn's depicted vision is indeed captivating."
"However..."
Petyr changed his tone, his gaze falling on Lynn.
"Raven messages indicate that Lord Lynn, you did more than just kill Viserys Targaryen in Essos."
"You liberated Astapor, incorporated an army of eight thousand Unsullied, and forged armor for them."
"Jorah, the condemned criminal who fled Westeros, also lingers by your side, and that woman named Daenerys was also taken in by you, my Lord."
"Even... you personally hatched a dragon."
Littlefinger's voice was like cold water, instantly extinguishing the surge of heroic spirit that Robert had just ignited.
The atmosphere in the hall solidified once more.
If wights were a distant threat, then dragons and Unsullied were a sword right at their throats!
Pentos was originally a hub for intelligence, with ravens spread across the world, and when Lynn set off for Essos, countless people were watching. Littlefinger, as a high-level player, was not a fool, so it was not surprising that he received firsthand news.
The smile on Robert's face vanished.
He slowly turned his head, his cloudy eyes, once again, fixed on Lynn.
"Is what he says true?"
"Lynn."
"Where is your dragon?"