Karas Snow, the scout of House Karstark, galloped back from the front with a bright smile plastered across his face. "Young Master Aed!" he shouted breathlessly, urging his horse to slow. "It's bandits! About thirty to forty of them—three to five archers, six or seven riders, and the rest are just insignificant rabble."
Eddard, mounted on his black warhorse, glanced toward the scout with a faint smirk. "Insignificant, you say?"
Karas grinned. "Yes, my lord, but there's good news. They've actually helped us load the grain onto the wagons. They didn't even bother hiding it."
"Really?" Eddard raised an eyebrow, turning to Sir Lyman Walder, who had been following quietly. "Our luck seems to hold today."
Sir Lyman forced a smile. Indeed, a few ragged bandits, even if outnumbering Eddard's men by three or four times, posed little threat. What mattered more was that Eddard had recently acquired new magic abilities and urgently needed a large amount of Soul Power to exchange for them. If bandits were nearby, it was the perfect opportunity to put his warriors to use and reap additional rewards.
Eddard drew his longsword and raised his shield, shouting to the men behind him. "Warriors of House Karstark! Charge with me! Eliminate the bandits, reclaim what is ours, and let none escape!"
Without waiting for Sir Lyman to object, Eddard spurred his horse forward. Mud splashed under hooves as his cavalry formation surged, a thundering wall of black armor and steel.
---
At the village entrance, two archers guarding the settlement spotted the approaching charge. "Cavalry!" they shouted, drawing their bows. Two arrows flew, but Eddard's shield, emblazoned with a sunburst, deflected them with ease.
In a blur of steel, Eddard's sword flashed, and blood erupted from the first archer's throat. The second archer barely had time to react before a javelin, hurled by Karas, struck through his chest. The battlefield erupted in chaos.
Eddard's warhorse reared, trampling a scythe-wielding bandit who tried to resist, while he swung his shield, smashing another attacker's head. With a flick of his longsword, a third bandit fell instantly, the blade piercing his neck. Bodies fell to the muddy path as the cavalry pressed forward.
"Damn it, can't even screw a woman in peace!"
A gruff voice erupted from a farmhouse. A burly man with a bushy beard emerged, rusty iron armor clinging to his frame, a golden lion painted on his chest plate. His left hand held the severed head of a young girl, her face frozen in terror, while his right clutched a blood-stained cleaver.
Eddard's eyes narrowed. The man rushed toward him, swinging the cleaver with deadly force. With lightning reflexes, Eddard deflected the strike with his longsword, the cold steel clanging with a ringing sound. Then, with a precise thrust, he drove the tip into the bandit's left eye, and crimson blood erupted across the battlefield. The man collapsed, screaming, before succumbing to his wounds.
Mounted bandits from the outskirts charged to support him, but Eddard's men intercepted them effortlessly. One or two cavalry charges were enough to scatter the attackers, and the remaining rabble, seeing their comrades crushed, abandoned their stolen grain and valuables, only to be swiftly killed by the pursuing Karstark warriors. No bandit was left alive.
From the moment Eddard's charge began until the final skirmish ended, less than five minutes had passed. The village was silent except for the distant cries of terrified villagers peeking from doorways.
---
Eddard wasted no time. He approached the villagers and began negotiating a fair exchange for the grain. "You will continue to supply food and provisions regularly," he instructed. "House Karstark will ensure it is transported safely."
The villagers, grateful and relieved, agreed. Seven or eight wagons, each laden with grain, were prepared for transport. Eddard did not take the food without compensation; he ensured contracts were drawn, promising protection in exchange for their support. The grain problem, at least for the next few weeks, was resolved.
On the return journey, Sir Lyman continued his tiresome chatter, describing in great detail which tavern girls had the prettiest faces, the softest lips, and the most shapely bodies. Eddard ignored it, focusing on the wagons and the muddy road. By nightfall, the contingent returned to Twin River City without further incident.
---
Inside the Frey hall, chaos awaited. A large bowl of fish soup shattered against the floor as Marquis Walder berated his grandson.
"Useless!" he shouted, furious. "You were sent to learn about Eddard Karstark, his friends, his enemies, even the family of his fiancée! And what did you do instead? Take him on a bandit hunt!"
Sir Lyman, nursing a cut from the shards, muttered defensively. "By chance! Young Master Aed wanted to buy grain, but the usual routes were blocked. We had no choice but to try Water Mill Town. And, well… we encountered bandits."
Marquis Walder's face darkened. "That many?" he growled. "And what of casualties?"
"Almost none," Sir Lyman admitted. "One cavalryman's warhorse sprained its ankle. Minor scrape. His name was… Lando, I think."
"Not a single death among your men?" Marquis Walder's surprise was evident.
Sir Lyman nodded stiffly. "None."
Marquis Walder's frown softened slightly, though he continued muttering under his breath. "Our Young Master Aed is truly brave. His subordinates, skilled warriors. Hmph… very good."
After a pause, he beckoned his grandson closer and whispered instructions that made Sir Lyman flinch. The slap that followed was sharp, a reminder that uselessness was not tolerated in the Frey household.
---
Later, Eddard sat with a cup of wine, watching Sir Lyman's stiff posture across from him. "Marquis Walder wants me to exterminate bandits? One silver moon per head, one gold dragon per bandit leader? Are you certain?"
"Yes," Lyman replied, forcing a smile. Though annoyed, he had to deliver the message.
Eddard's mind worked quickly. A simple bandit hunt was easy money. His soldiers, newly returned from the battlefield, would gain experience. Several recruits had already leveled up to Descendants of the First Men. Strength came in numbers, and these encounters were an opportunity for more.
Still, suspicion lingered. Could this be a trap? House Frey was notorious for petty grudges and schemes. Eddard considered the possibilities:
1. His previous suggestion to King Robb about ending the engagement with House Frey could have leaked, creating a motive for ambush.
2. He had refused Old Frey's marriage proposal recently; resentment could lead to cunning traps.
3. Using Karstark soldiers to attack bandits in Frey territory meant he could be blamed if anything went wrong.
Yet the plan seemed crude, almost insulting in its simplicity. If Old Frey truly intended harm, it was poorly executed.
Eddard chuckled softly. Let him try. Better to play along and observe than to speculate wildly.
"I accept this mission," he announced, voice calm. "But the payment is too low for House Karstark's warriors. For each bandit head, ten silver moons. For a bandit leader, five gold dragons."
Sir Lyman's expression soured. Too high? Perhaps. But it wasn't his money. He only cared that the old man wouldn't see it wasted. Eddard's terms were clear, and no negotiation would change them.
---
Thus, House Karstark prepared to take on the bandit threat, their numbers well-trained, their leader cautious and clever. Eddard Karstark knew that success would bring not only profit but experience, a chance to hone his soldiers and sharpen his own strategic mind.
The bandits, scattered and unaware, would soon learn the difference between petty theft and challenging a force led by a Karstark. The mission ahead was clear: suppress the bandits, secure the surrounding villages, and expand Eddard's influence in Twin River City, all while keeping one wary eye on the ever-treacherous House Frey.
The North had trained Eddard for harsh winters, unforgiving landscapes, and the brutal whims of battle. But even in the south, surrounded by fertile fields and greedy lords, he understood that true strength came not from mere numbers, but from skill, strategy, and unyielding resolve.
And Eddard Karstark intended to show every bandit, every lord, and every would-be schemer that House Karstark's warriors were not to be trifled with.
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