Game of Thrones: Knight’s Honor

At the moment, only Lynd, the Faceless Man, and a young albino Shadowcat remained in the meadow.

"I still don't know your name," Lynd said, turning toward the Faceless Man.

"My former name was dedicated to the Many-Faced God along with my face," the Faceless Man replied, pulling the hood of his cloak back over his head. "You can call me Bovo. That's my new name."

Lynd hesitated before asking, "Can you tell me what happened between you, Joel and Vortimer?"

Bovo shook his head. "There's nothing to tell. These are all things of the past, and since I'm leaving this time, I won't be coming back. You don't need to worry about anything."

It was clear that Bovo had misunderstood something, but Lynd decided not to press the issue. Instead, he pointed to the wound on Bovo's chest. "Do you need any help? In your current condition, with this weather, you might not be able to make it out of the forest."

"The magic potion of Spark can be called a miracle," Bovo said, lifting his shirt to reveal the wound on his chest.

What should have been a severe, gaping injury was completely healed, leaving only a faint scar. Upon closer inspection, it was almost impossible to tell there had ever been a life-threatening wound there.

Seeing the miraculous effect of the potion, Lynd was astonished. Bovo wasn't exaggerating—this medicine was extraordinary. For someone like Lynd, who expected to face battles frequently in the future, such a potion was invaluable, a potential lifesaver.

As he pondered this, his gaze drifted toward the spot where Spark's tree house had once stood. He wondered how he might gain Spark's favor and obtain the potion for himself.

"You don't need to look—Spark has already left," Bovo said, as if reading Lynd's thoughts. "Her tree house can move underground. She won't stay in one place for long, especially now that humans have discovered it."

Though it seemed unbelievable, Lynd sensed that Bovo wasn't lying. "Then how do you contact her?" he asked.

"My method isn't one you could use, and even if you could, it might not work now." Bovo shook his head, dashing Lynd's hopes. But then he added, "However, from Spark's reaction earlier, it seems she appreciates you. Otherwise, she wouldn't have given you the Shadowcat cub. She might even take the initiative to meet you in the future."

Lynd looked down at the cub curled in his arms, a relieved smile spreading across his face. Even without the potion, he felt he had gained much from this journey. There was no need to obsess over it—things would unfold as they were meant to.

Bovo noted Lynd's serene expression, surprised by his maturity. In his experience, it was rare for someone as young as fifteen or sixteen to display such equanimity. Such a mindset was typically found in seasoned adults or the elderly, who had long since made peace with the world.

After a moment, Lynd said with curiosity, "Spark's abilities are very different from the stories I've heard about the Children of the Forest. I've never heard of them being able to move their homes underground at will."

As he spoke, an image of the Children of the Forest came to mind—one shaped by tales and depictions from a certain series. But the Spark he had just encountered was entirely different from those portrayals. The disparity was as vast as that between a beggar and a nobleman; they hardly seemed like the same species.

On reflection, Lynd wondered if this difference stemmed from the gap between fiction and reality. Perhaps, in the true world of ice and fire, the Children of the Forest were all like Spark.

"Spark is very special. She is one of the few Children of Nature among the Children of the Forest," Bovo said, his tone making it clear he was reluctant to elaborate further. After this brief explanation, he showed no intention of continuing the conversation.

He wrapped himself tightly in his cloak, then glanced at the Shadowcat cub nestled in Lynd's arms. "I'll warn you—no matter how close this cub seems to you, it's still a beast. You'd better find a rope to tie it up. Otherwise, it'll hurt someone sooner or later. If it injures an ordinary person, it might not matter, but if it harms a noble lord, such as Garlan Tyrell, your fate might end up like mine."

Without waiting for Lynd's response, Bovo turned and walked into the woods, quickly vanishing from sight.

Lynd didn't attempt to stop Bovo or probe further into his identity based on the hints he had dropped. He could sense that the Faceless Man's words carried a touch of goodwill, even if that goodwill might have been intended for someone else.

Still, Bovo had a point. Lynd had initially planned to raise the cub freely, letting it hunt and roam on its own. However, now he realized such a plan was risky. A leash would indeed be necessary to keep the Shadowcat in check.

Reconsidering his approach, Lynd lifted the small cub in front of him. The creature, no larger than a kitten, seemed to think he was playing and meowed, pawing at the air as if trying to hug Lynd's face.

Lynd chuckled at the cub's antics, then tucked it under his shirt, holding it snugly as he began walking toward the Howling Forest post.

In the post hall of the Howling Forest, the servants of House Tyrell had set up a small tent for Garlan, giving him a private space away from the crowd outside.

Initially, Garlan had opposed the arrangement. He preferred to stay with the Tyrell knights and nobles or, better yet, sit among the soldiers and listen to their stories—rain or no rain. However, Maester Seric, who accompanied him, advised against it.

Some soldiers, Seric noted, were showing signs of illness. While a common cold or flu might not be an issue, if it was something contagious, Garlan's close contact with them could pose a risk.

After hearing Seric's reasoning, Garlan reluctantly agreed to the tent. He instructed his servants to take some medicine from his personal supply and asked Vortimer to ensure it reached the sick soldiers. Whether the medicine would help or not, he felt it was his duty to try.

Inside the tent, Garlan picked up a book chronicling the adventures of Ser Duncan the Tall and Aegon the Fifth as knight-errants. It was the fifth collection of their stories he'd read, each edition containing familiar tales as well as newly added ones.

Though Garlan knew the new stories were likely fabricated, he enjoyed them nonetheless. He liked imagining they were real and often wondered what it would be like to meet his own knight and embark on adventures across the Seven Kingdoms, much like Aegon V had done at his age.

For some reason, whenever he thought of knights, the image of Lynd—the burly squire—came to mind.

Closing the book, Garlan picked up a bell from the side table and rang it. When a servant entered the tent, he instructed, "Ask Lord Vortimer to come in. I have something to discuss with him."

The servant departed, and a short while later, Vortimer Crane entered, his clothes soaked from the rain. Taking the towel offered by the servant, he wiped himself off before addressing Garlan. "My lord, what is it you need of me?"

Garlan responded casually, "Nothing urgent. I just wanted to know how our Bear Hunter is faring. Is he adjusting to the scouting team?"

Vortimer smiled, recalling the positive reports from the scout team leader. He recounted what he had learned about Lynd's progress with the scouts, his tone brimming with satisfaction.

As Garlan listened, a faint look of disappointment crossed his face. While Lynd's earlier actions had nearly caused serious trouble, Garlan had genuinely admired his bold and confident nature. Now, it seemed, Lynd had subdued himself. Among the scouts, his outgoing personality and charisma had dulled, replaced by strict adherence to rules. The only trace of the old Lynd that remained was his remarkable self-discipline.

"Have I made a mistake by assigning him to the scout team?" Garlan asked hesitantly.

Vortimer shook his head. "No, your decision was absolutely correct."

Garlan frowned. "But I feel like he's become... ordinary since joining the scouts."

"Ordinary?" Vortimer looked genuinely baffled. He couldn't understand why Garlan would think Lynd's performance was ordinary. From his perspective, Lynd's achievements were anything but.

Initially, Vortimer had expected Lynd to sulk for a few days after being demoted from the knight's entourage to the scouts. Yet Lynd had shown no sign of frustration. By the very next day, he had effectively used his prior authority to bypass the scout captain's chain of command, streamline their operations, and implement new methods that greatly improved scouting efficiency.

Lynd's innovations had garnered admiration among the guard soldiers, many of whom volunteered to join his scouting team. With Vortimer's subtle support, Lynd was able to handpick capable recruits and form a highly effective unit centered around his leadership.

This kind of adaptability and initiative was extraordinary—especially in someone so young. In all of Vortimer's experience, he had never encountered a teenager with Lynd's level of competence and resourcefulness.

Garlan, however, was still only a teen. Despite his fine education, some of his views were shaped by youthful inexperience.

Unable to recognize Lynd's remarkable success within the scout team, he began to regret his earlier decision to discipline him. Tentatively, he asked Vortimer, "Should we bring Lynd back? I'm worried that leaving him in the scouts might ruin the potential of a future knight."

Vortimer was about to explain how outstanding Lynd's performance had been and why Garlan had nothing to worry about when a sudden commotion erupted outside.

Both men stiffened, their expressions turning serious. At Garlan's nod, Vortimer pulled back the tent flap. Together, they peered outside.

The knights and nobles in the post hall had abandoned their places by the bonfire and gathered at the entrance, staring out into the rain as though witnessing something remarkable. A group of scouts entered the hall, carrying piles of game: wild boar, deer, pheasants, and other animals. They placed the spoils in the center of the hall, where the game was quickly stacked into a small mountain.

"It looks like Lynd's scouts have returned from hunting, and they've done exceptionally well," Vortimer remarked, eyeing the bounty.

Garlan's mood brightened as he surveyed the haul. "The Bear Hunter has struck again. I want to know how he managed to hunt so much in this weather. Tell the attendants to leave one wild boar and one deer for us. Once the rest is cooked, distribute it to the soldiers outside."

"Yes, young master," Garlan's personal attendant replied. He swiftly relayed the instructions, ensuring the game was processed and the returning scouts informed.

Back in the tent, Garlan awaited Lynd's arrival. When the scout team's captain entered with another scout in tow, Garlan frowned. "Why isn't Lynd here? Is he still upset about being demoted and avoiding me?"

"No, my lord," the scout behind the captain replied before the latter could speak.

Garlan turned his gaze to the scout. "He's one of Lynd's men?"

The captain quickly confirmed. "Yes, this is Raul. Lord Lynd personally selected him from the guard soldiers when the scout team was expanded. He's proven to be an excellent recruit and is now one of Lynd's most trusted aides."

"Then why didn't Lynd return with you? Did he encounter danger in the forest?" Garlan asked.

Raul shook his head. "No, my lord. Lord Lynd went after the Shadowcat."

"After the Shadowcat?" Both Garlan and Vortimer were taken aback.

Raul recounted their encounter with the Shadowcat, explaining Lynd's pursuit of it. He also mentioned the growing belief among the scouts that Lynd intended to complete the Ten Hunting Trials to become a legendary hunter.

Garlan's expression shifted, his initial surprise giving way to excitement. The idea of someone attempting ancient trials to achieve legendary status was something he'd only ever read about. Now, to see such a pursuit unfold before his eyes was thrilling.

Yet beneath his excitement, Garlan felt a pang of embarrassment. Just moments earlier, he had dismissed Lynd as ordinary, only to learn that Lynd's accomplishments were far from it. His earlier judgment now seemed shortsighted and foolish.