Interesting.
Duncan looked down at Clegane, who was kneeling before him. The man had five or six whip scars on his body, and bullet wounds on his bare chest, appearing every bit the seasoned rider who had been through many battles.
Despite still bearing wounds, he was as fierce as a wolf.
The Sarmatians are indeed formidable!
Duncan seemed to have thought of something, ignoring the hesitation of the others, and with a clang, drew the Oathkeeper from his waist. Under the bright moonlight, the blade forged from Damascus steel was intimidating, its edge sharp and menacing. Duncan placed the blade flat on the shoulder of the Sarmatian rider who was kneeling on one knee.
"Humility, mercy, bravery, sacrifice, honor!"
Duncan only uttered five words, then stared into Clegane's eyes with a gaze as deep as the abyss. That intense gaze inspired awe in this fierce rider, but he still bravely lifted his head, chest out, and stood straight, trembling slightly as if he realized something.