Game of Thrones: Knight’s Honor
Chapter 378: Setback in the War

“Compared to the occasional deep sea illusions, I think there’s a more pressing issue you two need to deal with,” Lynd said thoughtfully, looking at the two men who had just finished dressing.

“What issue?” they asked in unison again—then immediately turned to look at each other, startled.

“Looks like you've realized it yourselves.” Lynd turned to the Maester and spellcasters who had overseen the procedure. “Has anything like this ever happened before? Telepathy between two people with implants?”

“Never. Not once.” The group exchanged glances and all shook their heads.

An alchemist suddenly spoke up. “Could it be because their implants were cultivated in the same batch of culture fluid?”

“The same batch?” Lynd paused, frowning. “Why was the same fluid used?”

The lead Maester, looking slightly sheepish, explained, “Your Grace, you were in a great hurry. The Black Cave didn’t have enough spare culture fluid to cultivate two implants simultaneously, so we had to use a shared batch.”

Lynd didn’t scold them. Instead, he asked, “How long is this telepathic connection expected to last?”

After a brief discussion, the Maester answered, “There’s no precedent, so we can’t say for sure. But all indications suggest that the link stems from the implants. It may function like the aggression side effect.”

“In other words, it might last forever.” Lynd raised an eyebrow.

“Pfft!” Garlan let out a sudden laugh.

Everyone turned to him, puzzled.

Garlan stifled his chuckle. “I was just thinking… Prince Oberyn’s taste in lovers isn’t exactly limited by gender. If that connection runs deep... I wonder how Lord Jaime would feel.”

Lynd’s face twisted into a strange expression, and a few others quickly looked away, trying not to laugh. Red Viper and the Kingslayer, on the other hand, looked absolutely miserable.

Lynd quickly composed himself and said with a hint of apology, “This wasn't something we anticipated. You’ll just have to get used to it.”

With that, he led Garlan and the others out of the lab and back to the study in the Tower of the Hand.

“You’re my Hand of the King now. This is your office.” Lynd gestured to the room as he addressed Prince Oberyn.

“Your Grace, aren’t you worried I’ll ruin the realm?” Oberyn flopped casually into the chair Lord Tywin once used, then grimaced. “First thing I’m doing as Hand—changing this furniture. It’s stiff, dreary—like something made for a corpse.”

Jaime muttered sarcastically, “Maybe turning the place into a brothel would suit you better.”

Oberyn nodded thoughtfully. “Excellent idea. I’ll take that under advisement, Lord Jaime.”

Jaime ignored him and turned to Lynd. “Your Grace, I noticed I haven’t been assigned a position. I’d like to resume my place in the Kingsguard.”

Lynd frowned. “If you rejoin the Kingsguard, what happens to Casterly Rock?”

“I’m planning to have Tommen take the Lannister name and inherit the Rock,” Jaime replied seriously.

Oberyn smirked. “So you’re done pretending? Admitting to the world that Robert’s three children were actually yours and Cersei’s—”

“Prince Oberyn,” Lynd cut in sharply, “you are now the Hand of the King. Perhaps it’s time to restrain that tongue. Don’t forget—Myrcella is still betrothed to Augustus. That makes her your niece-in-law.”

“Apologies, Your Grace. That was out of line,” said Oberyn, straightening and bowing sincerely.

“It’s fine. Just be more mindful going forward.” Lynd didn’t expect Oberyn to change—if he did, he wouldn’t be Oberyn. He turned back to Jaime. “Casterly Rock belongs to House Lannister. How you handle its succession is up to you. My only condition is that the transition must go smoothly. And if it doesn’t, you’ll be the one to fix it. I assume you don’t want me stepping in to resolve it.”

“I understand, Your Grace,” Jaime said. “I’ll handle it.”

“As for the Kingsguard,” Lynd continued, “I’ll be reforming it. You’ll serve again as Lord Commander.”

A rare smile broke across Jaime’s face.

Lynd then turned to a waiting attendant. “Summon the Small Council, the Speaker of the Council, and the other council members. Let them meet their new Hand.”

“At once, Your Grace,” the attendant replied and hurried off.

...

Not long after, the members of the Small Council and the legislative assembly arrived.

Oberyn was slightly surprised to see Margaery serving as Speaker, but not shocked. He was familiar with the parliamentary model Lynd had implemented in Summerhall and knew that a Speaker’s main role was to mediate and judge the merit of proposals—something Margaery was more than capable of.

What truly surprised him was Lynd’s decision to keep Pycelle as Grand Maester and Littlefinger as Master of Coin. After all, both had caused plenty of chaos during the Baratheon dynasty—and there were signs that they’d played a part behind the scenes in the last war as well.

Seeing the surprise on the Red Viper’s face, Lynd spoke as if addressing him directly, but his words were clearly meant for both Pycelle and Littlefinger.

“I don’t care what you’ve done in the past or what your intentions are now. I only care that my subordinates follow my orders and get the job done. Don’t break my laws. Work diligently. Understood?”

“Yes, Your Grace. We understand,” Pycelle and Littlefinger said in unison, rising to their feet.

Lynd hadn’t brought anyone from Summerhall into the Small Council. All members were drawn from the Seven Kingdoms: the Hand of the King was the Red Viper; Jaime served as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard; Pycelle remained Grand Maester; Littlefinger continued as Master of Coin; Garlan was appointed Master of Laws; Paxter Redwyne, Lord of the Arbor, was named Master of Ships; only the Master of Whisperers was an outsider—Balin.

...

Soon after, both the Small Council and members of Parliament arrived. Lynd signaled for silence, then formally introduced the Red Viper as the new Hand of the King.

“I’ll be away for a time,” Lynd addressed the gathering. “First to the Wall, then to Braavos. While I’m gone, I trust you’ll all work together to implement the plans I’ve laid out. Even if they can’t be completed in full, don’t let things fall into chaos.”

“Rest assured, Your Grace—we won’t let you down,” came the collective reply.

According to Lynd’s original timeline, he intended to spend a few more months stabilizing the political system of the new dynasty before traveling north.

But plans seldom survive contact with reality.

For reasons yet unknown, the operation to bring the wildling tribes beyond the Wall under control—something that should’ve been straightforward—had gone awry. Stannis failed to decisively defeat the wildling coalition, and instead, his actions had bolstered their morale. The wildlings were now building rafts to bypass the Wall entirely and head south.

As a result, Lynd had to depart for the Wall ahead of schedule. He would deal with the wildling threat first—then move on to Braavos to eliminate a far greater strategic threat.

...

As Lynd began his journey north, in a war council chamber at an outpost beyond the Wall, the Night’s Watch ranger captains had gathered to report on the latest developments. Stannis listened with a stormy expression, radiating fury that filled the room with tension.

“Can anyone explain why the enemy’s forces ended up behind our lines?” Stannis asked after the final report. “If Jon hadn’t discovered them in time, we would’ve been ambushed, and this outpost would be in enemy hands right now.”

His gaze swept the room and came to rest on two castle commanders.

“Lord Whalen. Lord Hosteen. If I’m not mistaken, the eastern line was your responsibility—and that’s exactly where the Free Folk army passed through. Tell me, why didn’t you detect them? Were you all blind?”

“Commander, we truly don’t know how they made it through,” the two replied quickly, rising from their seats. “Our defenses were intact. There was no fighting. Everyone was alert—no one was slacking off. But somehow, their force slipped through our lines without a sound. We were just as shocked as you when we heard reports from the rear.”

Stannis fixed the men with a silent, piercing stare. He didn’t believe they had betrayed the Night’s Watch—but facts were facts. An army of more than two thousand had somehow appeared behind them, and the tracks they left clearly indicated they’d passed through the eastern defenses.

“Could it be magic?” Jon Snow asked. He had played a key role in intercepting the ambush, earning significant merit.

“Magic?” Stannis frowned and turned to the magical advisor Lynd had sent.

“Could magic allow them to slip through such a heavily fortified position without detection?”

The advisor considered it for a moment.

“The warlocks of Qarth are known to use illusion magic,” he said. “It can fool defenders by projecting false images. But the range of such spells is limited—effective for maybe a dozen people at most. Moving thousands like that? I’m afraid only His Grace Lynd… or the gods themselves could accomplish something on that scale.”

The mention of gods might have been a bit much for the devout followers of the Seven, but no one objected. Deep down, they all felt Lynd Tarran was already more godlike than most deities.

Stannis was quiet for a long moment. Then he turned to the gathered commanders.

“What are your thoughts?”

One after another, they voiced the same conclusion: only magic could’ve enabled an entire army to pass through such a fortified defense undetected. Under such circumstances, no commander could have held the line—so punishment would be unjust.

It was clear that the real reason everyone supported not punishing the two castle commanders was fear—fear that their own positions might one day be breached by this elusive wildling coalition. If a precedent for punishment was set, they knew they might be next.

Stannis, though he very much wanted to discipline the two, to use them as an example and pressure the others into greater vigilance, ultimately yielded to the consensus. If no one supported punishment, he had little choice but to let it go.

He couldn't help but reflect on how much he'd changed since becoming Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. In the past, not even a plea from Lynd would have spared those two commanders.

“Is there any way to counter this kind of magic?” Stannis asked, steering the discussion back to the heart of the issue and looking toward the magic advisor.

“I’m afraid not,” the advisor said, shaking his head. “I don’t even know what kind of magic was used, so naturally I have no countermeasure.” But then he added, “Still, something powerful enough to cloak thousands in illusion isn’t ordinary magic. It would require an immense amount of energy. There’s no way they could cast it again in such a short time.”

That brought a small sense of relief to the room. The idea of an army slipping silently through their defenses and striking from the rear was enough to unsettle even the most seasoned men.

“But we can’t launch another attack now,” someone pointed out. “We’ve already used our bait. The enemy won’t fall for it again. And they don’t seem interested in fighting us directly anymore. They’re building rafts to bypass the Wall entirely.”

“They can’t bypass it,” Stannis said, shaking his head. “The Miracle Fleet—”

“Lord,” Jon Snow interrupted softly, “you forget—the Miracle Fleet and the White Harbor fleet are both in Braavos.”

Stannis froze for a moment, then realized he had indeed overlooked a critical detail.

After a pause, he said, “If they refuse to fight head-on, then we’ll force them. Concentrate our forces and crush one of their coalition warbands—no survivors. Make them feel pain. Make them angry. Once they’re angry...”

“Commander,” Jon cut in again, unable to hold back, “with respect, this might go against His Grace Lynd’s intentions. He wants to bring the Free Folk into our alliance against the White Walkers, not exterminate them.”

“Jon, you care an awful lot about these wild—Free Folk,” a ranger captain suddenly called out mockingly. “Could it have something to do with that female prisoner in your tent? What’s her name again…”

“Ygritte,” another ranger spoke up loudly. “Born of fire. One of the best archers among the Free Folk. Several of my brothers were killed by her arrows!”

Everyone turned to Jon with uneasy, judging eyes. After all, keeping a woman responsible for the deaths of their Night’s Watch brothers in his tent—no matter the reason—felt dangerously close to betrayal.

Jon said nothing, head lowered, his face pale.

Stannis broke the tense silence.

“I’m the one who assigned Jon to watch her,” he said flatly. “That ends the matter. This meeting is over. Return to your companies and prepare. We’ll concentrate our attack on the Rock tribe in the west.”

With that, he rose and walked out of the chamber. Jon silently followed behind.

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