Game of Thrones: Winter Lord

The rabbit meat was sprinkled with onions, giving it a mellow yet crispy texture. Jon Snow couldn't stop eating after taking his first bite. The Night's Watch brothers weren't particularly fussy about food. They simply ate the roasted meat, savoring its natural flavor enhanced by the onions. In this desolate place, just having something to eat was a blessing.

The method of roasting the rabbit until crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, combined with the rich blend of onion juice and honey, was simply remarkable.

The honey had come from Tyrion Lannister. Among his servants was a cook who often used honey to sweeten Tyrion's drinking water. To obtain it, Cole had traded half a rabbit. A greedy Lannister, indeed.

The food seemed to bridge the gap between Jon Snow and Cole. After all, Jon was only around fourteen years old—still young enough to be tempted by good food despite his somber nature.

He muttered, "I thought the Night's Watch would be like my uncle Benjen, and you too."

"Are you a little disappointed?" Cole asked.

Jon Snow nodded. This place was awful. It was filled with the kingdom's exiles—a haven for filth and outcasts.

"It's not as bad as you think," Cole said. "You're only seeing what they were in the kingdom. But here, they've left everything behind—their wives, parents, and children.

"Maybe they're not men of honor, not knights, not humble, not even good people—but they are the Night's Watch. When the Long Night comes, they will stand as humanity's strongest line of defense."

"Choosing the Night's Watch isn't wrong, Jon Snow. It is an order that accepts both criminals and nobles alike, standing as proud and unyielding as the Wall itself. If the White Walkers return, humanity will have no choice but to stand together."

Jon listened in silence, until another voice suddenly interrupted.

"You're quite the alarmist, little cook."

Tyrion Lannister stood by the table, only slightly taller than its surface, his head just visible over the top.

"Those old men are so dull," he remarked, nudging Cole aside to make space for himself. With a nimble jump, he settled in.

"The old nanny's tales can only scare seven-year-olds," he said with a smirk. "You don't even plan to take the black, yet here you are, trying to convince others to spend their lives in this frozen wasteland."

The White Walkers were nothing more than stories, the kind used by old women in castle halls to frighten children.

Jon Snow hesitated, turning his gaze to Cole, as if silently asking: Is that true?

It was rare to find someone in the Night's Watch who was actually interesting, only to realize they weren't truly one of them. It felt like meeting a man holding a fishing rod, only to discover he was catching dragonflies instead of fish.

For a moment, resentment flickered in Jon's eyes.

"I've never been beyond the Wall, so who's to say there aren't White Walkers out there?" Cole said. "Maybe it's not just White Walkers. Perhaps all kinds of strange things lurk beyond the Wall."

He knew they wouldn't believe him without proof. Talking about the White Walkers now was like talking about legends—like trying to convince someone that heroes from old tales were real. Believing in the light wouldn't make you a madman, but believing in the White Walkers would surely make you a fool in Westeros.

Tyrion seized the moment to change the subject. He began discussing the White Walkers in the context of history and lore. He had read extensively, nearly every book in the royal library and at Casterly Rock.

In his words, the stories became vivid and compelling. He effortlessly wove in historical secrets and forgotten legends.

Sometimes, you had to admire how much knowledge was packed into that small frame.

As Tyrion spoke, Jon's exhaustion and melancholy faded. Since arriving at the Wall, he had never felt so at ease. It was like sitting around a fire after dinner, chatting and jesting with friends. It reminded him of Winterfell—of the days spent with Robb and the others.

Back then, his foster brother, Theon Greyjoy, would also share stories like this. Though Jon had never liked Theon much, he had to admit—the man could tell a good tale, almost as well as Tyrion Lannister.

The three of them laughed and talked late into the night. As the sky darkened, Night's Watch brothers began returning to the tower in pairs and small groups to rest.

The Lord Commander, who had been seated at the main table, finally rose and walked toward them. It was time for him to retire for the night.

"What are you all talking about?" he asked.

Cole and Jon Snow immediately stood up. This was the leader of the Wall, after all.

A rare smile appeared on the Old Bear's stern face, and he waved for them to sit back down. Tyrion, ever informal, remained lounging with one leg crossed over the other, offering no salute.

Mormont took a seat beside Jon and studied Cole. In a way, the boy had grown up under his watch. As a child, the mischievous Cole had no understanding of rank—he had even once pulled at Mormont's beard. Back then, Mormont had not yet been Lord Commander.

"I grant you leave to go," Mormont said. "The Night's Watch may not be rich, but you will have armor and a sword to take with you. Go and pursue your dream of knighthood. I hope that in the legends of the future, the name Cole will be remembered."

Cole was stunned. He didn't recall telling the Lord Commander about his desire to leave, though the thought had been in his heart.

The Night's Watch was a place outsiders shunned, but for Cole, it was home. He had lived here for fourteen years, and many of the brothers had treated him well.

Looking at the old man—who, Cole knew, would one day be betrayed and murdered by his own men—he felt a pang of guilt. These were the people who had raised him, yet he could do nothing for them in return.

"I—"

Mormont raised a hand to silence him. "As Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, I formally expel you, Cole. From this moment on, there is no place for you here."

His expression was firm, as though banishing a criminal. But everyone knew the truth.

Some of the Night's Watchmen in the hall looked at Cole with envy. This was the first time someone had been allowed to leave. Of course, Cole had never sworn the oath—he was not truly one of them.

Once a man swore the oath, he was bound until death. Jon Snow had only left later because he had already died once. And yet, in the end, he had chosen to return.

Scattered applause broke out. Cole had always been well-liked. As a child, he had been teased by the older recruits. Now, he was popular for his cooking skills.

Someone sighed dramatically, "Where will I find good broth now?"

The hall erupted into cheers and laughter, as if they were sending off a soldier on a grand journey.

Only Virgie looked saddened. Cole was his only friend, and now he was leaving—perhaps never to return.