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Chapter 167: Questioning in the Council Hall
🕑 Added 2025-02-23 12:10:04 +0000 UTC“This is all I have experienced beyond the Wall.”
Lynd sat in the Hall of the Council, facing the senior members of the Small Council. Except for the Prince of Dorne, all the other Lords Paramount were present. In the gallery, the High Septon of the Faith of the Seven and several Maesters observed in silence, carefully recording his every word.
After arriving on the outskirts of King's Landing, Lynd had been escorted by courtiers waiting at the Gate of the Gods, where King Robert stood ready to greet him, surrounded by his subjects and Lords. Though they were already aware of the existence of giants, seeing one in person—standing four or five meters tall—left them visibly stunned.
King Robert then led Lynd through the Gate of the Gods, taking the final stretch of the Kingsroad straight to the Red Keep. To Lynd’s surprise, the king even permitted him to bring the giants into the city.
A vast crowd had gathered along both sides of the road, with Gold Cloaks standing guard to prevent anyone from breaking through. As Lynd passed, the people erupted into cheers for the Chosen One, showering the street with flower petals, creating a cascade of colors along his path.
The sight reminded Lynd of a scene he had once witnessed—of a devoted son returning home in triumph. He turned his gaze to King Robert, studying his expression as he responded to the crowd’s cheers. To his surprise, the king was not displeased but instead looked delighted, as if he himself were the one being celebrated.
Upon reaching the gates of the Red Keep, Lynd placed the Stone Giants and Glory in the square before the entrance. King Robert had gone so far as to prepare food and wine for the giants, ensuring that even the knights who had accompanied Lynd were well taken care of.
With the giants settled, King Robert personally led Lynd straight to the Council Chamber in the Tower of the Hand, where the senior advisers of the Red Keep and the Wardens of the Seven Kingdoms were already gathered, awaiting his arrival.
Before the most powerful figures in the realm, Lynd recounted his experiences beyond the Wall. Though he omitted many details and condensed the battles into a few sentences, his words still carried weight, drawing the listeners into the harrowing reality he had faced. The account of the battle at the Fist of the First Men, when told by Varys, had been one thing—but hearing it firsthand from someone who had been there was an entirely different experience.
When Lynd described how steel turned as fragile as glass upon contact with the White Walkers and displayed his damaged right gauntlet as proof, the expressions of those present grew increasingly grave.
Lord Tywin furrowed his brow. “Isn’t there anything that can harm those monsters?”
“Yes,” Lynd answered. “Valyrian steel and dragonglass can both wound them. Steel weapons, however, are completely ineffective. The wildling tribes sometimes use stone weapons, which may be able to injure them, but the wounds heal quickly. Only Valyrian steel or dragonglass can inflict permanent damage. The only way to kill them is to deliver a mortal strike using one of those materials. The White Walkers are far stronger and faster than an ordinary person—any knight who encounters one in battle will be slain before he even lands a blow.”
A heavy silence settled over the room, the weight of Lynd’s words darkening the mood.
“What about wights?” the High Septon of the Faith of the Seven asked suddenly. “Is there any way to destroy them?”
“Wights are easier to deal with,” Lynd replied. “Fire kills them. Their bodies ignite quickly and burn to ash once the flames take hold.”
Hearing that wights could be destroyed so easily brought a slight sense of relief to the room.
After listening to Lynd’s full account, King Robert turned to Lord Arryn and instructed him to inform Lynd about the aid plan they had devised for the Night’s Watch, as well as the discussions regarding the worsening weather and the growing threat of the White Walkers.
"I agree with Grand Maester Pycelle's deduction," Lynd nodded. "When I left the wildling tribes’ refuge, I could already feel that the weather was warming beyond the Wall. Under these conditions, the White Walkers will be unable to move south. They will remain in the Land of Always Winter, far to the north. If the Citadel's measurements are correct and a long summer truly follows, then the White Walkers should not pose a threat for the foreseeable future."
Upon hearing Lynd’s words, many in the room were visibly surprised. They had expected him to exaggerate the White Walkers’ danger as much as possible to ensure that the Night’s Watch—and he, as their champion—would be taken more seriously and granted greater resources. Yet, instead of fearmongering, he openly admitted that the White Walkers would not be a concern for a long time. His pragmatic stance made some present reassess their opinions of him.
Lynd continued, "When I left the Wall, I also inquired about the state of the Night’s Watch. Currently, only three castles remain manned—Castle Black, Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, and the Shadow Tower. The other fortresses have fallen into disrepair, and restoring them would require substantial funding. The passageways and elevators along the Wall also need extensive repairs, which cannot be completed in a short time. Therefore, the priority should not be expanding the Night’s Watch manpower but rather securing funding for repairs and sending scholars and craftsmen capable of restoring the fortifications. Your Grace, the support plan discussed with the Lords aligns well with the current needs of the Night’s Watch. I have no objections."
The room fell into a thoughtful silence. Many exchanged glances of approval, their satisfaction evident. No one wanted to hear that the plan they had devised was misguided or unnecessary.
"Lord Lynd, I heard you have already found the Horn of Winter. Do you have the artifact with you now?" the elderly Hoster Tully suddenly inquired.
"Yes, Lord Hoster, I have it with me." Lynd nodded, setting his backpack on the table. Under the watchful eyes of the assembled lords and maesters, he retrieved a box from his pack, placing it on the table and opening it. As he did so, he deliberately allowed the dragon egg inside his pack to be seen by the gathered onlookers.
Although most eyes were drawn to the Winter Horn, some quickly noticed the dragon egg and exchanged surprised looks, their gazes shifting between it and Lynd.
The moment the Winter Horn was revealed, Grand Maester Pycelle could no longer contain himself. Rising swiftly from his seat, he approached Lynd, carefully lifting the ancient horn in his hands and scrutinizing it intently. As he examined it, he muttered to himself, "This horn is very old—at least from the Age of Dawn, if not earlier. The runes inscribed on it... I have seen similar markings recorded in a tome on the pre-dawn era runes of the First Men. These symbols appeared only in that age and have never been seen again."
Another Maester from Highgarden stepped closer, studying the horn alongside Pycelle. "The material appears to be bronze," he observed, "but I believe it only resembles bronze. It must be a different metal, or it would have corroded long ago. Yet, it has remained as bright as gold, untouched by time."
Other Maesters quickly gathered around, voicing their own analyses and theories. Yet, despite their varied interpretations, they all reached the same undeniable conclusion—the horn was incredibly ancient.
"Damn it, you lot, stop muttering and hand it over already!" King Robert barked impatiently.
With visible reluctance, Grand Maester Pycelle carried the horn over to Robert. As the king casually reached for it, Pycelle visibly tensed, as if fearing the king might drop or mishandle it.
"So, this is the Horn of Winter—the one that can awaken the giants beneath the earth?" Robert mused, turning it over in his hands. "It looks so ordinary. I'd have thought it would be covered in jewels."
His disappointment was apparent. Then, without warning, he suddenly lifted the horn to his lips and blew into it forcefully.
"Your Grace!" Lord Eddard and several others sprang to their feet in alarm.
Yet, no sound came. Robert's breath had not passed through the horn at all. Despite the effort, his cheeks puffed out comically as the air failed to escape through the windpipe—the horn was blocked.
"Odd! Really odd! It clearly passed through." King Robert released his mouth from the horn and narrowed his eyes at its opening. He could see straight through it to the other side—there was nothing blocking the inside.
He tried again, but the result was the same.
"You’re right, this thing is really interesting!" Robert said, handing the horn to Lord Tywin, who stood nearby.
Lord Tywin took the horn and attempted to blow into it as well. When he failed, he frowned in thought, then removed the necklace around his neck and pushed it through one end of the horn, testing if something invisible was blocking the passage. The necklace passed through easily.
One by one, others took turns trying, and every attempt ended the same way.
"Lynd, did you try blowing it?" Robert asked.
"No," Lynd replied, also puzzled by the strange phenomenon. "I was standing by the Wall and didn’t dare to. If I blew it and the giants beneath woke up, bringing the Wall down, I would have been the one blamed."
"Haha! You're right!" Robert laughed heartily. He seemed pleased, as if he had personally uncovered one of the secrets of the Winter Horn, sharing in Lynd’s adventure.
"I think the reason it doesn’t sound has something to do with the crack on the horn," Grand Maester Pycelle said solemnly. "Your Grace, if this artifact remains here, may I be allowed to study it? Perhaps I can determine how to repair it."
"Wait, this artifact should be placed in the Sept of Baelor," the High Septon interjected immediately. The Faith of the Seven had already gained much prestige from the wight, and adding the Horn of Winter to its collection would further enhance its influence.
Lynd looked at both men and stated firmly, "I'm sorry, my lords, but I was entrusted by Lord Willas to find this artifact beyond the Wall. I must deliver it to Lord Willas in Highgarden—it cannot remain in King’s Landing."
Varys, speaking softly, interjected, "Lord Lynd, perhaps you are unaware that at the previous meeting, Lord Mace already agreed to place the Horn of Winter in the Red Keep."
Lynd paused for a moment, then bowed respectfully to both Robert and Mace Tyrell before saying, "I’m sorry, Your Grace, my lord, but my duty remains the same. I was entrusted by Lord Willas to retrieve the Horn of Winter. Now that I have found it, I must fulfill my obligation and deliver it to him personally. Whatever Lord Willas chooses to do with the artifact afterward is his decision, not mine."
A murmur passed through the room as those gathered exchanged glances, many clearly impressed. Even King Robert, after a brief silence, nodded with a smirk before speaking in a more serious tone.
"Alright! Alright! What a stubborn man!" he said. "I won’t stop you from keeping your word. Take the horn to Willas Tyrell." Then he turned to Mace Tyrell. "Lord Mace, once the artifact reaches Highgarden, see that it is returned to us."
"Yes, Your Grace." Mace Tyrell did not appear displeased that Lynd had defied his prior agreement. Instead, he seemed to admire Lynd’s unwavering loyalty to his promise.
Once everyone had taken a turn examining the horn, it was returned to Lynd, who carefully placed it back into his pack.
At that moment, Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, suddenly spoke. "Lord Lynd, is there a dragon’s egg in your backpack?"
"Yes," Lynd answered calmly, as if he had anticipated the question.
"Where did you obtain the egg?" Jon Arryn pressed.
Before Lynd could respond, Robert grinned and answered for him. "Lord Arryn, haven’t you heard the song of the Chosen One, the Ghost, and the Dragon’s Egg?" He looked at Lynd and chuckled. "The ghost of Summerhall gave you this dragon egg, didn’t it, Bear Hunter?"
"Yes, Your Grace," Lynd nodded. "At Summerhall, I completed the ghost’s trial, freed all the trapped spirits there, and, in the end, the ghost of Ser Duncan the Tall entrusted this dragon egg to me."
"May I see it?" Jon Arryn asked.
"Of course," Lynd said, retrieving the egg from his pack and handing it over.
Renly, sitting beside Robert, leaned in and examined it with a skeptical expression. "It looks like a stone… it seems fake," he remarked bluntly. "Brother Viserys, there are many legends of petrified dragon eggs on Dragonstone. You should be able to tell if this one is real."
Stannis, clearly irritated by Renly’s remark, gave him a sharp glance before looking at the egg in Jon Arryn’s hands. "It is real," he said flatly, "but it has turned to stone. The egg is dead."
"A dead dragon egg?" Robert laughed. He turned to Lynd and asked, "Bear Hunter, did you bring this thinking you could hatch it?"
"Your Grace, I did have that thought," Lynd admitted with a smile.
"Haha! You really are bold!" Robert laughed heartily, shaking his head. "But even if you do hatch it, you’d need Targaryen blood to ride a dragon. Do you have it?"
The room fell silent at once. All eyes turned to Robert, their expressions suddenly serious.
Lynd, unfazed, patted the hilt of the Banished Knight’s greatsword at his waist and said evenly, "I don’t have Targaryen blood, but I do have two greatswords. If the dragon that hatches doesn’t obey me, I’ll just kill it and roast it."
For a moment, there was complete silence. Then Robert suddenly slapped the table and burst into laughter.
"Yes! Yes! Kill it and roast it!" he roared with amusement. "And when you do, you better send me a share!"
