Outside Winter Town.
On a patch of grass near the main gate of Winterfell, dotted with faint traces of green, Glover soldiers and the Skagosi formed a wide circle.
At its center stood Galon and Sparta.
From the outer wall, Jon Snow stood beside a tense Sansa and Asha, all three looking down at the duel below.
Sparta, one of the fighters, fixed his gaze on Galon. There was a flash of ferocity in his eyes, but even more so, the thrill of being challenged.
"Since I became chief, no one has dared to challenge me."
"And you... are the first."
He let out a low roar and seized a massive warhammer beside him, its head carved from obsidian.
Galon remained calm. Both hands gripped his greatsword as he leaned forward slightly, ready to strike.
The two locked eyes.
The tension thickened, almost solid.
Even the previously laughing Skagosi fell silent, holding their breath.
Above them, a crow circled from the walls of Winterfell. After several passes, it let out a sharp caw, as if urging the fight to begin.
With that cry, Sparta moved first.
He charged forward with a roar, like a charging mammoth, his warhammer swinging with crushing force.
It was a blow that could shatter stone.
Galon did not meet it head-on. He stepped lightly to the side and back, narrowly avoiding the strike.
The hammer slammed into the ground, sending frozen dirt and snow flying.
At the same moment, Galon counterattacked.
In the instant Sparta's strength had been spent but not yet recovered, Galon lunged forward.
His sword did not slash—it thrust like a striking serpent, aimed directly at Sparta's wrist.
The strike was fast and precise.
Sparta instinctively pulled back, nearly losing his grip on the hammer.
He stumbled back two steps, surprise flashing in his eyes.
He had not expected this lord, similar in size to himself, to possess such speed and technique.
"Hmph. Northern men lack strength, but they scurry like rats."
Annoyance flared in Sparta's eyes. His attacks grew more ferocious, trying to force Galon into a direct clash.
But Galon quickly showed him what true strength was.
Calm and focused, Galon met the next charge head-on. His greatsword swung cleanly and collided with the hammer.
The clash rang out sharply.
In the stunned gaze of the Skagosi, Sparta was driven backward by overwhelming force. He staggered and fell onto the grass.
"Ahhah!"
Furious and humiliated, Sparta grabbed his hammer and charged again with everything he had.
At that moment, he had forgotten this was only a duel.
There was only one thought in his mind.
Kill him.
'Savages are still savages. No sense of restraint. If I want to subdue them, I must make them fear.'
Galon's expression hardened. Killing intent flashed across his face as he raised his sword and met Sparta's attack head-on.
Steel met stone with a deafening clang.
Sparta blocked the blow, grinning fiercely.
"Now that's more like it! Again!"
He shoved Galon's blade aside and swung his hammer down with crushing force.
This time, Galon did not dodge.
He answered with equal strength, bringing his sword down in a powerful strike.
For a time, their weapons collided again and again, deadly intent weaving between them.
One mistake would mean death.
It became clear to everyone watching—this was no longer a simple spar. It had become a real fight.
On the wall, Sansa's hands tightened. Her face was tense as she silently prayed to the old gods.
"Please... let Galon win."
Beside her, Jon noticed and smiled. "Sansa, don't worry. Galon won't lose."
"He killed Victarion in single combat amid thousands. What's one Skagosi compared to that?"
At those words, Asha—standing on Sansa's other side—froze in shock.
'So that's how Uncle Victarion died...'
She looked back at Galon, who still fought with ease, and her eyes shimmered.
She felt no anger over Victarion's death. To her, dying in battle like that was an honorable end.
Instead, her heart stirred once more.
'If he were mine... what would the North matter?'
She sighed inwardly, then glanced subtly at Sansa, who was still watching anxiously.
'Perhaps... I can try to win him over. Whatever the Stark girl can give him, I can give as well.'
'If he serves me, then when I take the Seastone Chair... marrying him would not be impossible.'
While Asha plotted, Galon had already grown tired of the duel.
'Time to end this.'
His crimson eyes burned.
He deliberately revealed an opening, his breathing appearing heavy.
Sparta's eyes lit up. He took the bait and swung his hammer.
Galon sidestepped smoothly.
His blade flashed, cutting across Sparta's arm with perfect precision.
Blood sprayed instantly. Sparta cried out in pain, his grip failing as the hammer slipped from his hand.
The weapon hit the ground.
Galon followed up immediately, swinging the flat of his blade.
Bang!
The massive Sparta was struck and sent crashing to the ground, dirt spraying outward.
Before he could rise, the tip of Galon's sword rested lightly against his throat.
Silence fell across the field.
The Skagosi stared in disbelief.
Their chief—who they had seen as immovable as a mountain—had been defeated so cleanly by a Northern lord.
Their pride shattered in that moment.
From the wall, Jon raised his voice.
"Bearslayer!"
At once, the Glover soldiers lifted their weapons and roared.
"Bearslayer!"
"Bearslayer!"
Asha pressed her lips together, resisting the urge to join in. But the excitement in her eyes betrayed her admiration.
The thunderous chant echoed across Winterfell.
Sparta lay on the ground, struggling to accept defeat.
Then Galon withdrew his sword and extended a hand. "Do you wish to continue, Chief Sparta?"
Sparta looked at the hand, then at his stunned tribesmen.
The anger and humiliation on his face slowly faded, replaced by something else.
Respect.
He ignored the blood still flowing from his arm and stared at Galon for a long moment.
Then he grasped Galon's hand and stood.
In full view of everyone, the Skagosi chief stepped back, clenched his fist, and struck it hard against his chest.
A deep, resonant thud echoed.
It was the highest gesture of submission and respect among the Skagosi.
"You win."
His voice was no longer arrogant, but hoarse with respect.
"You and your blade have earned the loyalty of the Skagosi. Until that cursed Euron is crushed, we follow you."
He lowered his head in formal submission.
Then he turned to his people and shouted.
"Bearslayer!"
"Bearslayer!"
Five hundred Skagosi warriors struck their chests and roared in unison, pledging their loyalty.
In that moment, the savage Skagosi were subdued by greater strength.
Galon smiled faintly as he looked over the cheering crowd. 'Now begins the real work... breaking them in, until they obey completely.'
As his gaze swept upward, it landed on Asha atop the wall.
Seeing the strange look in her eyes, his smile deepened.
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