Twin River City.
At the center of the arched bridge, early morning mist clung to the stone, and dark clouds hung low in the sky. The sun attempted to pierce through, but the gloom remained, as if the city itself held its breath. A chill wind swept across the bridge, rustling cloaks and ruffling the hair of those lined up in a long, winding queue.
Hundreds of hopefuls waited patiently for their chance to join the Second Guards Corps. Rumors had spread quickly after the Reach army's defeat: the new Lord of the Crossing had already formed a 100-man personal guard, a 300-man castle garrison, and the 300-man First Guards. Service under him promised generous pay, fine equipment, and even a mount. Skilled archers and horsemen were especially prized, and their salaries reflected their abilities.
The first two units had been filled quietly, mainly with northern warriors loyal to the Lord. Now, the recruitment of the Second Guards Corps was open, drawing men from across Twin River City and beyond.
Eddard sat at the entrance of Weishui Tower, a wooden table in front of him and a small set of upward stairs behind. Across from him stood a burly, pockmarked man who had just introduced himself.
"After signing this contract," Eddard said calmly, "you will become a member of the Second Guards Corps. For remuneration, you may choose a plot of land near Twin River City, or receive a salary at regular intervals each month."
The man's name was Randall. He swallowed nervously as Eddard placed a parchment on the table, listing Randall's age, family members, and home village, and then gestured to a quill and red inkpad.
Randall's grip on the pen was awkward, as though he were holding a sword in battle. He stared at the Lord and the scholar beside him, utterly bewildered—writing was not his strong suit.
Scholar Bennet, accustomed to such situations, asked gently, "Randall, is it money you prefer, or land?"
"Money," Randall replied finally.
Bennet guided his hand to the proper section of the contract, and with painstaking effort, Randall wrote his name, then pressed his hand into the red inkpad. Bennet handed him a thin iron plate with the number "536" etched on it. "Take this," he said sharply. "It is your identity plate. Keep it safe. Lose it, and you will face twenty lashes and pay twenty silver stags to replace it."
Randall held the plate with trembling fingers, realizing the significance. This simple iron disk ensured that even if a soldier fell on the battlefield, his identity could be verified. Death might claim his body, but his service and honor would not be erased. He felt a strange mix of apprehension and reassurance.
Eddard observed him silently. In his system, Randall's loyalty immediately jumped from Normal to Good, a new layer of respect added to his already long list of reasons for allegiance: He is your liege. He commands respect. He inspires trust. Now he feels a stronger sense of belonging to your rule.
Eddard nodded to himself. His careful organization was paying off.
"Next!" he called.
"My Lord, I am James, from—"
Each soldier approached, introduced himself, and awaited judgment. Eddard checked loyalty first. Only those whose loyalty ranked above Normal would be accepted. Physical strength mattered less; experience on the battlefield was more valuable. Training could improve fitness, but bravery and skill came from surviving the chaos of war.
Twenty, then thirty, recruits were signed up before noon. Eddard paused briefly, lifting a cup of water, when Abel approached quietly.
"My Lord," he said, "the Hill Family from Water Mill Town has arrived. Sir Bray's son has brought gifts and three fine horses. He requests an audience."
"Tell them to wait until noon," Eddard replied. Then he returned to recruiting, his focus unwavering.
By midday, over a hundred recruits had joined. The line remained long, but Eddard could spare a moment for the vassals who had come to pay respects.
In the dim Banquet Hall, Ryan Hill, son of Sir Bray, presented the details of his family holdings.
"My Lord, Water Mill Town has a population exceeding a thousand, including Free Folk and tenant farmers. We have fifteen thousand mu of arable land, an orchard, around a hundred nags, and twenty-three oxen. My father commands two retainers, I have one, and my brothers are of age to fight. Twelve armored guards, half mounted, are ready to serve, and we can mobilize about a hundred conscripts if called upon."
Eddard listened carefully, his expression unreadable. His dark beard and piercing gray-blue eyes gave him a presence that was difficult to ignore. Ryan Hill's confidence faltered; he remembered the rumors of the new Lord's ruthlessness. House Frey was gone, and those who had provoked this man now lay defeated or imprisoned.
After hearing the report, Eddard turned to Dita Kalander, who had quietly verified the numbers outside. "Is everything accurate?"
"Yes, my Lord. Largely consistent," she confirmed.
Eddard nodded, then addressed Ryan Hill directly. "You have done well. The Hill Family has shown loyalty in the past. From now on, you will temporarily manage Water Mill Town in your father's stead. Sir Bray will remain here as my guest. Any objections?"
"No, my Lord. Your will is our direction," Ryan replied, bowing deeply. Relief washed over him, though beads of sweat still clung to his forehead.
Eddard glanced at his system, noting that Water Mill Town's lord had shifted to Ryan Hill, with loyalty registering as General. Fear of Eddard's power was a primary factor. He reflected briefly on the role of fear in loyalty, deciding that while it could ensure obedience, true devotion required more than intimidation.
Once Ryan and his brothers left the hall, Eddard turned his attention to a more pressing matter: a trial.
In Westeros, even in matters of discipline, nobles were afforded certain rights. A direct execution without due process would brand him a tyrant. Eddard had gathered the lords imprisoned in the black dungeon and invited Patrick Mallister, heir of Seagard, to witness.
Dio and his son attempted feeble defenses, claiming their actions were oversights and that they had bled for the King of the North. Eddard's patience waned.
"You drew your swords in front of your liege," he said steadily. "That is a capital offense. No sophistry can excuse it."
Patrick Mallister nodded in agreement. "A vassal drawing a sword against his lord is deserving of execution. Had they shown repentance, forgiveness might have been granted, allowing them to atone at The Wall. But as they stand, unrepentant, there is no alternative."
Eddard's decision was firm. "Paine, take them to Lando. I will personally execute them tomorrow morning."
The knights and assembled guards were silent, aware of the Lord's efficiency and decisiveness. Even Niel Emford and Leslyn Haigh, who had initially opposed him, dared not speak.
Orell Smo, a hulking man in armor, protested loudly, demanding a trial by combat. His plan was calculated: force through strength what words could not achieve.
Eddard's lips curled into a cold smile. "Very well. One trial will decide their fate, here and now."
He tossed his famed longsword, "Heartbreaker," to Abel. "Carry out my will."
Abel, a Northern soldier of unmatched skill, nodded and readied himself. "Who will fight first?" he asked the prisoners.
Orell Smo drew his massive two-handed greatsword and charged the moment the command "Begin" was given. The silver blade whistled through the air—but Abel's response was faster.
With precise movement, Heartbreaker sliced through the air, bypassing the greatsword and striking true. Orell Smo fell, his gorget shattered, blood gushing from the wound.
Sir Dio, rushing to aid his son, met the same fate. Abel executed Eddard's order with unflinching precision, leaving the hall in stunned silence.
Eddard's voice cut through the tension. "Dita, take their heads and secure Hillfort's army. Any resistance is to be crushed without mercy."
Turning to Bennet, he instructed, "Announce the results throughout Twin River City. Leave nothing unreported."
"Yes, my Lord," Bennet replied, his voice trembling.
Eddard's gaze swept across the hall. Justice had been served, order restored, and the power of the new Lord of Twin River City made unmistakably clear.
The trial ended decisively, leaving the city and its people with a lesson in loyalty, fear, and the consequences of defiance.
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