Game of Thrones: Knight’s Honor
Chapter 379: A Sharp Blade for a Tangled Knot

“I expect an explanation.” Back in the command room, Stannis looked at Jon with stern eyes.

Jon was silent for a moment before speaking. “A month ago, during a patrol, I got lost and crossed the Ghost River. Ygritte captured me and brought me to her camp. Their Free Folk leader wanted to kill me, but she protected me. When I escaped, she deliberately missed when she shot at me. Now that she’s become our prisoner, I can’t just let her die.”

Stannis stared at him for a long time, silent. Then, in a low voice, he said, “Take her to the dungeon. Then report to the First Ranger. In the next battle, I want to see you leading the charge. If you survive and distinguish yourself, I’ll pardon her. If you die, she’ll be executed and buried with you.”

“Yes, Lord Commander.” Jon gave a crisp salute and turned to leave. But at the doorway, he paused, looked back, and said, “It’s been an honor serving under you. I hope I’ll have the chance to do so again.”

Without another word, he walked out.

Stannis watched him go, his hands slowly curling into fists. He closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath to steady himself.

He knew full well that today’s events were aimed squarely at him. Jon was just caught in the crossfire. The claim that no one had seen the Free Folk coalition sneak through the lines had nothing to do with magic. It was sabotage—plain and simple. Someone had tried to derail his battle plan. If he’d died in the chaos, it would’ve suited them just fine.

Too bad for them Jon had caught the infiltrators in time and routed them before they could do real damage. That the routed forces fled eastward said it all—there was no way they hadn’t had help from the inside.

Had Stannis insisted on punishing the two castle commanders, half the room would’ve jumped in to defend them. The entire command structure might have collapsed into disarray.

As for the woman in Jon’s quarters—everyone already knew. It wasn’t news. The fact that it was suddenly being brought up now only proved one thing: they were looking for an excuse to punish Jon and strip away one of Stannis’s closest allies.

Stannis could understand why. Without him, many among the Night’s Watch had the credentials to become Lord Commander. But then he appeared out of nowhere and claimed the title. And thanks to Lynd Tarran’s influence, none of them dared object openly. Instead, they were forced to cooperate while scheming behind his back.

But this time, they’d gone too far. Their petty moves now threatened the entire front. If this continued, not only would Stannis fail to complete the mission Lynd had entrusted to him, but the Night’s Watch itself could be torn apart by internal strife.

A cold glint flashed in his eyes. It was time to take decisive action.

He strode from the room, crossed the square, and followed a narrow path into a patch of forest beside the fortress. Nestled among the trees was a small, rough cabin—once built by the Free Folk, now repurposed.

He approached the door, pushed it open, and stepped inside.

Melisandre was there, preparing a potion over a small flame. Stannis said nothing. He simply stood to the side, waiting.

She didn’t look back. From a small box on the table, she poured powder into a glass vial, then placed it over the fire. After a moment, white mist began to rise from the mouth of the bottle. Only then did she remove it from the flame and hand it to him.

“Drink.”

Stannis took the vial without hesitation and downed it in one gulp.

What surprised him was the temperature. He’d seen it come straight off the fire, yet the liquid wasn’t even warm—it was cool, almost like ice water.

But his thoughts quickly turned from the strange chill to the visions that followed.

He saw the frozen wastelands far to the north, where massive ice dragons—large enough to swallow King’s Landing whole—were awakening from their ancient slumber. As they stirred, savage blizzards roared to life, wave after wave of deadly cold sweeping southward.

The vision came in bursts—brief, fragmented images—then vanished.

He blinked, and once again saw the cabin and Melisandre standing silently before him.

“What did you see?” Melisandre asked eagerly.

Stannis recounted the vision he had just experienced.

After listening, Melisandre paused for a moment, then said, “What you saw was likely a vision of the extreme cold moving south. The Ice Dragons represent the freezing power of the far northern ice fields. That force is already forming, and it won’t be long before it begins pushing past the Wall. Lord Commander, we don’t have much time.”

“Can you tell how long it will take for the cold to reach beyond the Wall?” Stannis asked with concern.

“From your description, I’d estimate a month or two,” Melisandre replied solemnly.

“A month or two... That’s enough.” Stannis nodded, then looked at her and said, “The plan you mentioned to me last time—can you guarantee its success?”

Melisandre shook her head. “I’m sorry, Lord Commander. No one can guarantee success. All I can promise is that I’ll do my best.”

After a moment of silence, Stannis gave the order. “Then do it. Use the list you compiled. I need results—and soon.”

“Don’t worry, Lord Commander,” Melisandre said with confidence. “Two days at most...”

Just as she was speaking, footsteps sounded outside. Melisandre immediately stopped talking and gestured silently to Stannis.

He opened the door and saw a clerk hurrying over. The man bowed the moment he spotted Stannis and handed him a sealed letter.

“Lord Commander, this is a letter from King’s Landing. It bears His Grace Lynd’s private seal. It should contain news from him.”

Stannis opened the letter and read it carefully. After a moment, he turned and handed it to Melisandre.

“His Grace Lynd is coming. Halt the plan. Send the compiled information back to Castle Black and let His Grace handle it.”

Melisandre glanced at the letter. It was indeed a notice that Lynd was coming beyond the Wall to handle the Free Folk situation personally.

“He’s not coming—he’s already here,” Melisandre corrected. “Don’t forget, he rides a dragon. And there’s no need to send anything to Castle Black. I’d wager His Grace already knows what’s been happening and has taken steps to deal with it.”

She turned to the clerk and asked, “This wasn’t sent by raven, was it? Someone must’ve brought it. Who else came with the message?”

The clerk answered, “My lady, the letter was delivered by the Silent Men and the Sisters of Redemption stationed at Castle Black. I’m not sure what they’re doing now.”

Before he could finish, a commotion broke out in the direction of the main fortress. Something was clearly happening.

Stannis and Nymeria exchanged a look and immediately made their way toward the noise.

...

By the time they reached the main keep, the courtyard was packed. Nearly every ranger and clerk in the fortress had gathered to see what was happening.

In the center of the square, more than a dozen castle commanders and ranger captains were kneeling on the ground, bound by the Silent Men and Sisters of Redemption.

Some of the prisoners were shouting, calling out to their subordinates for help. But no one moved. Everyone understood that the Silent Men and the Sisters of Redemption only obeyed Lynd’s commands—no one else had authority over them. Their actions could only mean one thing: they were carrying out Lynd’s orders. Under those circumstances, no one dared intervene, especially knowing that even if they tried, they would likely be overpowered.

Others among the captives cried and pleaded, insisting they hadn’t betrayed anyone or ignored their duties.

Still more said nothing at all. They simply lowered their heads, accepting their fate. They understood what the others hadn’t yet accepted: if Lynd’s enforcers had found them, it meant he had proof. There would be no escape, no way to deny guilt. Resistance would only bring unnecessary pain. Far better to take the punishment than to suffer worse.

As Stannis entered the square, the crowd parted to make way for him, clearing a path to the center.

Seeing Stannis arrive, one of the leading Sisters of Redemption stepped forward and said, “Lord Commander, His Grace ordered us to seize these vermin who’ve ignored the greater cause and stirred internal strife, and to hand them over to you for judgment. He asked us to tell you—carry out your plans boldly, without hesitation. You need not worry about anything.”

Her voice wasn’t loud, but due to some special vocal technique, it cut cleanly through the wind and snow, reaching every corner of the fortress. Her words left no doubt—they were the voice of Lynd’s full support for Stannis.

“Has His Grace Lynd arrived at Castle Black yet?” Stannis asked her.

The sister shook her head. “Not yet. His falcon carried his orders to Castle Black. His Grace is expected to arrive tomorrow. He plans to inspect the castles along the Wall, then sail west to the Land of Always Winter past the Frostfangs to rendezvous with the Sisters and Silent Men, and after that, come to the front lines when the time is right.”

Melisandre remarked, “It seems His Grace Lynd is growing impatient—he intends to step in personally and settle the matter with the Free Folk tribes.”

Stannis’s expression darkened. Lynd’s actions clearly implied a lack of confidence in his leadership, and that stung.

As the realization sank in, his gaze turned with open contempt toward the bound men before him. If it hadn’t been for these troublemakers undermining his efforts, he would have crushed the Free Folk coalition in the last battle, pushed the front to the Antler River, and completed the plan to bring the tribes under control.

The memory of that failed decisive campaign made his teeth clench. He wanted nothing more than to have these men executed on the spot. But he forced the fury down, took a deep breath, and said coldly, “You will be assigned to the First Rangers. In the next battle, I want to see you leading the charge at the front. If you survive, your crimes will be forgiven. If not—then die as true men of the Night’s Watch. That’s better than being dragged out and executed for treason.”

“I volunteer for the First Rangers!” one man shouted immediately.

Others echoed him soon after. After all, going to the First Rangers offered at least a slim hope of survival. Staying here meant certain death.

As those commanders and ranger captains who had secretly defied Stannis were dealt with, the Silent Men and Sisters of Redemption appeared at other Night’s Watch outposts as well, seizing more individuals and assigning them to the First Rangers.

Word of what had happened spread quickly through the Night’s Watch, and most brothers approved of the measure. Some even felt the punishment was too light. In their eyes, what these men had done was nothing short of betrayal, and execution would’ve been a more fitting sentence.

But for Stannis, it was already behind him. He had more pressing concerns—like reestablishing stable command across the Night’s Watch forces and avoiding a total collapse of their front lines.

Most of those taken had been unit commanders and captains. Though their lieutenants remained, they were not of the same caliber. Stannis had to ensure those deputies quickly adapted to their roles, or else Free Folk scouts might identify weaknesses in the formation and exploit them.

He also had to plan the next decisive battle—one that would force the Free Folk to face him again soon and bring everything back under control.

Time was running short. As the last of the Silent Men and Sisters left, one sister had told him plainly: Lynd would not come to the frontline immediately. He expected Stannis to finish subduing the Free Folk before he arrived.

...

And so, the next day, just as Lynd arrived at Castle Black atop his lava dragon, Stannis—Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch—had already launched his second offensive against the Free Folk. Meanwhile, far to the west, on the frozen wastes, the Sisters of Redemption and the Silent Men had begun their own battle against the advancing army of wights.

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