An arrow's flight, no more than a hundred or two hundred meters, passed in an instant for a warhorse accelerating at full speed.
Following the path trampled by Earl Rickard's troops, the six riders charged straight into the center of the Westerlands formation before most of the soldiers could react. The moonlight glinted off their armor, illuminating the chaos around them.
Soon, they reached the large banner at the heart of the formation. Abel's spear twirled through the air, the steel head piercing a Westerlands soldier's chest before he could block it, halting his attempt to intercept Eddard.
Lando and Mam quickly followed, their swords flashing with deadly precision as they protected Eddard's flanks, cutting down and knocking over several enemies who tried to pounce with short swords.
Dita Kalander fired arrows in rapid succession while galloping, several streaking toward Ser Foeller's position, forcing the commander to adjust his defense.
At this moment, Ser Foeller's mind seemed trapped in a quagmire, frozen after repeated shifts in the battlefield. He was resilient and cautious, yes, but he lacked quick wit. Confronted with multiple sudden threats, especially the harassment from the Northern cavalry, his prior arrangements had already proven insufficient.
Instinct and years of training allowed Ser Foeller to raise his shield when an arrow came hurtling toward his uncovered face. His full plate and chainmail rendered ordinary arrows harmless. At the same time, he shouted, "Stop them!"
Five or six guards, armed with long spears and clad in fine scale armor, charged forward. Their sharp spearheads gleamed under the moonlight as they thrust toward Eddard.
Eddard held his military spear in his right hand, shield in his left, parrying each attack with practiced precision. The 50% bonus granted by [Lord-Vassal Unity] enhanced not just his strength and stamina, but also his eyesight, reaction speed, and movement accuracy. In mere seconds, he deflected five or six incoming spears, moving with uncanny fluidity.
"Get lost, you scum!" he shouted.
Lando and Mam urged their horses forward, knocking down guards, though their mounts were impaled by other enemies rushing to assist. Amidst the agonized neighs of their horses, the two warriors fell, rolled to their feet, and engaged the surrounding soldiers with swords. Their assistance allowed Eddard to bypass the obstruction.
His spear flashed, brushing past a shield before piercing Ser Foeller's silver-white abdominal armor, tearing through interlocked chainmail beneath, and finally impaling a soldier still clutching his shield. Abel, following closely, struck the standard-bearer next to him with his lance. The Prester family banner collapsed dejectedly to the ground.
"Avenge Ser Foeller!"
Ser Celin, bloodshot-eyed and clad in plate armor, had just raised his longsword to attack Eddard when a spinning shield struck his forehead. He fell silently, lifeless.
Eddard, lifting Ser Foeller's corpse with both hands, shouted, "Lay down your weapons! Those who surrender shall live!" The horse beneath him whinnied mournfully under the weight.
Seeing their commander dead and their banner fallen, the Westerlands soldiers at the center froze, horror-stricken. Many dropped their weapons, knelt, and surrendered.
Earl Rickard, with fewer than three hundred cavalry remaining, charged out of the enemy formation, shouting, "Everyone, rally to me! Prepare for the second charge!"
His eyes widened when he saw Eddard dragging a corpse while parrying attacks with a battle axe. The horror on his face intensified, yet he spurred his horse forward, giving orders to continue the assault.
To the west, over a thousand Northern cavalry had held back, waiting. Observing House Karstark's aggressive fight, they hesitated momentarily before sending a small contingent to reinforce the assault. To the south, archers emerged from the hillside, taking aim at any Westerlands soldier attempting to resist.
The combination of archers and cavalry forced most of the enemy to lay down arms. A few braved the arrow fire and fled into the forest, like scared, stray dogs.
House Karstark now controlled the battlefield. Soldiers collected weapons, organized prisoners, tended the wounded, and cleared the dead.
Eddard removed his military lance from Ser Foeller and smiled at Earl Rickard, who finally relaxed upon seeing his son unharmed. Eddard dismounted, searching the battlefield for his men. Abel followed closely.
Lando had injured his left arm and sustained a spear wound to the thigh. The gash had been bound with a blood-stained cloth. He sat quietly, smiling faintly as Eddard approached, but his lips trembled, unable to speak.
"Abel, find two men to carry Lando to Maester Reed, quickly!" Eddard ordered. Abel ran off immediately.
Mam, aside from a bloodied wound in his neck, remained relatively unscathed. He lay on the ground clutching his sword and spear, a quiet determination in his eyes. Dita Kalander had already begun collecting spoils among the corpses, asserting the battlefield rule: what is found belongs to the finder.
Karas Snow limped over to Mam, lifted him onto a horse, and nodded at Eddard, calm but tinged with sadness.
A voice interrupted the post-battle quiet. "House Karstark, truly a great victory! Perhaps not as grand as Robb's triumph in the Haunted Forest, but remarkable nonetheless."
Theon Greyjoy rode past prisoners, a cynical smile on his face. The wolf banner atop his saddle confirmed his allegiance. Only Earl Rickard and Robb Stark knew the Ironborn's role: insurance against Ser Foeller rescuing Lannister forces.
Eddard forced a smile, hiding his irritation. If not for Earl Rickard's decisive charge, he might have been forced to retreat. Theon's interference annoyed him greatly, yet he stayed silent.
Theon laughed loudly, boasting, "Karstark, I led my hundred men through the battlefield. The rest were mere horses. No one expected it!"
"Yes," Eddard replied lightly, masking his anger. The Ironborn was trusted by Robb Stark, and Eddard had no intention of openly opposing him—for now.
Theon's smile faded as he spurred his horse toward Earl Rickard, eager to claim credit.
"Young Master, it's done," Abel called, returning with a makeshift stretcher to carry Lando away. Most Karstark men had survived, as the fallen were primarily Lannister soldiers.
"Abel," Eddard whispered, "keep a close eye on Theon Greyjoy. Any unusual movement, notify me immediately." Abel nodded and went to find Dita Kalander.
As silence settled over the battlefield, messenger birds descended toward Riverrun, carrying news of the victory. Eddard muttered to himself, gazing at the cold, distant moon. Dita Kalander handed him a blood-stained pouch filled with silver stags and jewelry. "Young Master, this is Mam's share. Give it to his family when you return to Karhold." Eddard nodded, acknowledging the free rider's foresight.
By early morning, news spread of Eddard Stark's hypothetical execution—Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, friend to King Robert, and key participant in the Usurper's War. Northern soldiers mourned, some sincerely, some feigning sorrow, aware they still answered to his son, Robb Stark. Robb's victories and leadership elevated him among the lords, ensuring his place as the young King of the North, even at fifteen.
Though Eddard's strategy had been vital, the glory went to the family, not him. House Karstark gained the right to build a dam on the Last River, a reward of land and influence—but Eddard had no say.
Now, cornered in his tent by Daisy Mormont, he faced yet another challenge.
"Bang!" The slender figure in black armor fell heavily. Eddard quipped, "If all Bear Island women are this tenacious, perhaps Lord Commander Mormont should never have let Jorah take the earldom."
Daisy sprang up, fists clenched, charging at him. Though covered in grass, her speed was impressive. Eddard was faster. He sidestepped, tripped her with his leg, and pressed his battle axe against her neck.
"There have been enough deaths already: my brother, Lord Stark, Daryn, Mavin. If you want your kin to mourn for you, continue!"
The cold threat silenced Daisy. Dying over pride was shameful, worse than defeat by Eddard Karstark. She buried her head in the grass.
Eddard stood, retrieved the discarded longsword, and handed it to her. Daisy left without a word, leaving Eddard shaking his head.
Through battle and sparring, he realized his strength was considerable. Though not a master of technique, his enhanced physical attributes sufficed to overpower Daisy Mormont.
"If a dragon pledged allegiance, would I gain its power?" he mused, then shook his head. No dragon would submit to him—perhaps bears were more practical.
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