Game of Thrones: Knight’s Honor

Lynd, already accustomed to the persistent ache in his back, stepped out of the house where he had spent the past month recuperating, leaning on the crutches crafted by Old Baine just the day before. Though his injuries would need at least another two weeks to fully heal, they no longer hindered his ability to walk.

His immediate concern, however, was acclimating to the people and events of White Holdfast as quickly as possible. He needed to avoid raising suspicion or inadvertently exposing his true identity. After all, the fragments of inherited memories he possessed were sparse. Beyond knowing his name was Lynd and that he was a hunter, the rest was a disjointed collection of images and sensations—useless in piecing together why he had been so gravely injured.

As he moved through White Holdfast, he quickly identified the modest homes dotting the area. It became clear that he was in a primitive settlement, likely from a time resembling the ancient West. Although he had already guessed this from Old Baine's clothing and the rustic furnishings in his home, he had still harbored a faint hope of being wrong.

"Bear hunter?" The village's only street soon brought Lynd face-to-face with his first encounter. A villager froze upon seeing him, blurting out the nickname with a tremor of fear before hurriedly averting his gaze and scurrying past as though Lynd were a predator.

Though curious about the odd reaction and the moniker, Lynd refrained from stopping the man. It was wiser to stay silent, observe, and avoid any actions that might betray that he was not the same Lynd the villagers remembered.

As he continued, more people crossed his path. Some greeted him by name, while others echoed the title "bear hunter." Their faces betrayed varying degrees of awe and apprehension, with only the intensity of emotion differing from one person to the next.

Despite White Holdfast's small size, the walk to the village tavern proved long and taxing for Lynd in his weakened state. He had learned during his recovery that Old Baine owned the establishment, and though the village remained unfamiliar, the tavern's location was unmistakable—it was the only one in sight.

"Your injuries aren't healed yet. What are you doing out here?" Old Baine called out the moment Lynd reached the tavern's threshold. The man's concern was evident as he emerged from inside.

Old Baine was a figure hard to miss. His barrel-like frame was crowned with a full head of thick brown hair and a matching beard. His left foot had been replaced with a wooden peg, and his right hand was missing three fingers, likely severed by some sharp weapon.

Lynd offered a faint smile. "I've been lying down for over a month. I thought a walk might help me recover faster."

Old Baine, who had cared for Lynd during his incapacitation, had earned the young man's deep gratitude. Lynd regarded him as more than a caretaker—almost a father figure to this unfamiliar body he now inhabited.

Old Baine said nothing further, simply patting Lynd's arm before gesturing for him to enter the tavern.

"Hey, bear hunter!" a chorus of voices erupted as Lynd stepped inside. The patrons raised their glasses in greeting. Unlike the villagers he had encountered earlier, these men seemed less intimidated and more enthusiastic, though a trace of reverence lingered in their tone.

Uncertain of how to respond without revealing his ignorance, Lynd simply nodded in acknowledgment. This simple reaction appeared to satisfy them, reinforcing his suspicion that the previous Lynd must have been a reserved, introverted individual.

Lynd made his way to a table by the window and settled into a chair. Shortly after, Old Baine approached with a glass of wine, placing it in front of him before returning to his other tasks.

Taking a cautious sip, Lynd was met with a sour, vinegary flavor that was difficult to stomach. Still, he forced it down without betraying any reaction on his face. The atmosphere in the tavern remained unchanged by his presence, yet the tone of the conversations subtly shifted. More and more of the discussions seemed to revolve around him, though the villagers spoke in hushed tones, careful not to let their words carry too far.

In the din of the busy tavern, it was challenging for most to pick out specific words, but Lynd was not most people. Over the past month of recovery, though his body hadn't regained its full strength, his other senses had sharpened considerably. The heightened sensitivity had taken some time to adjust to but was now proving invaluable.

By piecing together snippets of conversation, Lynd began to form a clearer picture of his situation. Despite his best efforts to maintain a neutral expression, a flicker of surprise escaped him as he processed what he overheard.

During his convalescence, he had speculated endlessly about where he might have been reborn, imagining various ancient Western settings. But the reality was something he had never anticipated: he was in the world of A Song of Ice and Fire created by George RR. Martin.

Though Lynd had never read the books, he had watched the acclaimed TV series Game of Thrones. Its massive cultural impact had been impossible to ignore, and at the time, he'd even delved into online forums to discuss certain plot points and theories. While he had engaged with the series as a casual viewer, those hours spent watching and reading now provided him with invaluable insights into this new world.

The conversations around him confirmed this revelation. Much of the talk centered on the recently concluded Usurper's War, the conflict that had placed Robert Baratheon on the Iron Throne. This established that he was living in the period before the TV series began—a realization that did little to comfort him.

The information he had gleaned from the series and discussion forums would be of limited use. Worse still, he now fully grasped the rigid nature of Westeros' societal structure, especially in The Reach, where he currently resided. The power of bloodlines and heritage dominated this land, leaving little room for an ordinary man like himself to rise above his station.

The Reach was known for its deeply entrenched traditions, and its noble houses prided themselves on ancient lineages spanning millennia. Even the Tyrells, Wardens of the South, were not among the top three families in terms of heritage—a testament to just how deeply rooted the aristocracy here was. This unwavering adherence to tradition made the social hierarchy nearly unshakable. Bloodlines determined worth, and even the rare exceptions to this rule could not topple the towering structure of conservatism.

For someone of humble origins, there were only two viable paths to prominence. One was to train at the Citadel in Oldtown and become a Maester. The other was to excel in the tournaments held by The Reach's nobles and earn the favor of a knight. A fortunate individual might even be knighted directly, much like Ser Duncan the Tall, the legendary former Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

As Lynd absorbed this information, he also learned more about his immediate surroundings. The village he was in was called White Holdfast, located on the edge of the Red Lake Forest in The Reach. It fell under the domain of House Crane, with Red Lake as its regional center.

The village's name came from the white plaster locals used to coat their buildings, giving the entire settlement a distinctive, pale appearance. White Holdfast was not merely a hunting village but served a specialized purpose. Its inhabitants were not typical hunters eking out a living from game; instead, they acted as guides for the autumn hunts hosted by the noble houses of The Reach.

The Red Lake Forest, though not the largest woodland in the region, boasted the most abundant populations of deer, bears, and other wildlife. Each autumn, House Crane invited nobles from across The Reach to participate in hunts, fostering alliances and camaraderie. White Holdfast's hunters were part of this tradition, a village established specifically to cater to these annual gatherings.

Lynd had finally pieced together the reasons behind his severe injuries and prolonged confinement to bed. Why did the villagers called him bear hunter and treat him with such reverence? The truth lay in the tumultuous events surrounding the usurper's war, which had ended the previous year.

During the conflict, House Tyrell, as the Warden of the South, had chosen the wrong side. While King Robert, who emerged as the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, chose not to punish them directly, the Tyrells were perpetually uneasy. To mend relations with the new king, they began amassing rare treasures from The Reach as offerings to curry his favor.

House Crane, an ancient but declining noble family, governed Red Lake but struggled to maintain their influence. Their alliance with the more powerful House Florent was a necessity, a buffer against further deterioration. Seizing the chance to bolster their relationship with House Tyrell, they joined the treasure-collecting efforts. However, House Crane had long since sold off its ancestral valuables, leaving behind only heirlooms too emblematic to part with. To avoid ridicule, they turned to alternative sources, seeking riches within their lands.

Their territory, blessed with abundant wildlife, offered a solution. Among these animals were the formidable mountain bears of Red Lake Forest—prized and fearsome creatures. House Crane issued substantial rewards for their capture, hoping to present them as exotic offerings to House Tyrell.

Lynd's father, a renowned hunter from White Holdfast, was lured by the lucrative reward. With the steward's approval, he ventured into Red Lake Forest to hunt a mountain bear. These creatures, far from ordinary, were colossal—twice the size of common bears—with unparalleled strength and reddish-brown fur so dense it rivaled armor. Their invincibility in the forest had claimed the lives of numerous knights, along with their squires, escorts, and mercenaries.

No one expected Lynd's father to succeed. Tragically, they were right. He perished in the forest, his body savaged by the bear. When other hunters recovered what remained—half a head and scattered limbs—it confirmed the deadly nature of his mission.

Devastated but undeterred, Lynd's predecessor—his father's son—resolved to fulfill his father's dream and avenge his death. Over the following year, he tirelessly searched for the bear, investing heavily in lethal traps. His preparations culminated over a month ago, and he ventured into the forest again.

This time, his hunt was both a triumph and a disaster. He managed to kill a mountain bear single-handedly, earning the title of "bear hunter." But his victory was hollow—the bear was not the one that killed his father, and the cost of his success was nearly his life. The bear had mauled him brutally, leaving his back flayed and his spine nearly shattered. If not for Old Baine, his father's closest friend, who braved the forest to rescue him and spent weeks nursing him back to health, he would have perished.

The aftermath brought further complications. Hunting in Red Lake Forest without House Crane's authorization was a serious offense—tantamount to poaching on noble land, punishable by death. Yet, perhaps because House Crane saw value in obtaining a mountain bear at no cost, or because Lynd was already on the brink of death, they decided against execution. Instead, they offered him five golden dragons as compensation.

While this sum paled compared to the 500 golden dragons originally promised, for common folk, it was still a fortune. However, Lynd's vulnerable state made him an easy target, and the villagers, blinded by greed, eyed his newfound wealth hungrily. Yet their ambitions were swiftly quelled by Old Baine, whose unwavering defense forced them to abandon their plans.

This explained the mix of awe and trepidation in the villagers' gazes when Lynd emerged from his recovery. They feared the retribution of a man who had survived the wrath of a mountain bear and returned stronger despite his near-death ordeal.