"Stop! What do you think you're doing?!"
Greenbeard was startled. They were inside Robb's military camp right now—outside stood tens of thousands of troops in strict formation. If chaos broke out, the ones who would suffer were definitely them.
But his voice was too small, his authority too weak. He could only watch helplessly as the Tyroshi mercenaries grew more and more furious.
Someone had already deliberately slammed his chest into Little Jon's chest, openly provoking him.
Robb watched the farce before him with great interest. He knew Little Jon was holding back because of his orders, otherwise he would have already fought these mercenaries.
After a moment's thought, Robb walked up to a viewing platform and leisurely sat down.
"Interesting. Remove your armor."
Even while clashing with the others, a large part of Little Jon's attention had been on Robb. The moment he heard those words, he immediately roared,
"Remove your armor!"
"Remove your armor!"
"Remove your armor!"
Several wolf cavalrymen of noble birth, just like Little Jon, followed suit and shouted. Every wolf cavalryman heard Robb's command.
They did not hesitate in the slightest, directly removing the leather armor from their bodies.
Armor worn in wartime was extremely heavy; during daily training, they all wore leather armor instead.
Seeing the almost perfectly synchronized movements of the other side, the Tyroshi mercenaries—who had been hurling curses just moments ago—were suddenly at a loss, unsure what the other side was up to.
Clearly, none of them had heard Robb's order.
A brief silence fell over the camp.
By the time the wolf cavalry had all removed their leather armor and put away their weapons, the Tyroshi mercenaries were still in a daze, weapons in hand, glancing left and right. No one spoke. Greenbeard felt a chill in his heart at the sight.
Seeing that the others still hadn't moved, Little Jon spoke first,
"Remove your armor!"
The more than two hundred men behind him roared in unison,
"REMOVE YOUR ARMOR!"
The shout thundered into the sky. Some mercenaries were so frightened that the weapons in their hands fell straight to the ground.
Greenbeard looked at Robb seated above. That unfathomable smile still hung on his face, and panic began to rise in Greenbeard's heart.
His life—and the lives of all these mercenaries—were firmly in the hands of this teenage boy. If Robb wished it, by tomorrow the moat of Riverrun would hold three hundred more corpses.
Greenbeard reacted quickly enough. Before the situation spiraled completely out of control, he understood Robb's intent.
He immediately ran around the mercenary formation, shouting as he ran,
"Take off your leather armor! Put down your weapons! His Majesty orders us to fight them bare-handed!"
Greenbeard was drenched in sweat, afraid that someone might not hear him.
Hearing his voice, most of the mercenaries glanced at the wolf cavalry before them. Anger had long been bottled up in their hearts, and now that they were told they could fight, they followed along and quickly stripped off their leather armor.
But there were also some mercenaries who were used to being unruly, grumbling loudly.
"What bullshit 'His Majesty'? He's just a brat."
"Only idiots cursed by the Seven would fight bare-handed. I'm a knight—I will never take off my weapons and armor!"
"Draw your swords! Let those wolf pups see what a real battlefield is!"
"I'm a Tyroshi mercenary! Even if he gives me a gold dragon, so what? I don't feel comfortable staying here anymore. I'll mount my horse and leave—what can he do about it? Who cares about this little brat!"
Crack—!
Just as those mercenaries still wearing leather armor continued shouting arrogantly, a sudden peal of thunder exploded in the sky.
Crackle! Bang!
A bolt of golden lightning suddenly descended from the heavens, smashing straight down onto the head of a Tyroshi mercenary. It appeared without any warning—this was a cloudless sky, and no one had time to react.
The mercenary didn't even manage to let out a scream before collapsing stiffly to the ground.
[Precise Lightning Strike][Summons a lightning bolt above the target's head. Can be cast consecutively.]
Crack—!
Crack—!
Crack—!
Robb sat in his chair, expressionless, looking at every mercenary who still hadn't removed their armor. Golden light flickered endlessly in his hand.
In midair, bolts of lightning appeared out of nowhere, again and again, striking with absolute precision at every mercenary who disobeyed the military order.
Robb showed no mercy. Their bodies were instantly charred black, hair standing on end, collapsing to the ground without the slightest trace of life.
After more than a dozen mercenaries fell in succession, the Tyroshi finally realized where the lightning was coming from—and who it was targeting.
"Quick, quick!"
"The Wolf King of the North is enraged! He's calling down thunder to punish those who disobey!"
"Take off your armor, now!"
Seeing his subordinates and friends fall one after another, Greenbeard was frantic, shouting at the top of his lungs.
After more than twenty mercenaries had fallen, Robb finally stopped.
Only then did the mercenaries who still hadn't finished removing their armor feel what it meant to survive a catastrophe. Cursing how hard the armor was to take off, they frantically yanked and tore at it.
"No more spiritual power left. Otherwise, all of these people should've been struck dead."
Robb sat in his chair, propping his chin with the same hand he had just used to cast prayer spells, looking utterly bored.
His indifference filled Greenbeard below with terror.
This Majesty was truly frightening. With a casual gesture, he had taken more than twenty lives—and with such a detached expression. Thinking about how his future life would be spent serving this king, Greenbeard felt a deep chill of despair.
"Fight."
Robb spat out a single word.
The moment the order was given, the wolf cavalry—silent as still water just moments ago—erupted. Before the Tyroshi mercenaries could even react, they lunged forward like ferocious wolves.
The wolf cavalry were all elite warriors personally selected by Robb from the armies of the North, many of them sons of nobles who had trained in all kinds of battlefield combat since childhood.
On top of that, having been tempered by two world-shaking battles, they had already completed their transformation.
They fought in silence, eyes firm, locked onto their enemies.
Their minds were filled with scenes from Robb's training—on encounters like this, the side with better teamwork would claim final victory.
They instinctively formed small squads, sometimes spreading out to intercept, sometimes merging together to overwhelm the few with the many. They focused their strength to knock down small groups of mercenaries, and in the end, not a single person on their side was even seriously injured.
In less than twenty minutes, every Tyroshi mercenary had been beaten to the ground, faces smeared with blood, groaning as they lay there.
The wolf cavalry, meanwhile, stood tall in the camp, looking down from above at the opponents they had defeated.
If any mercenary continued to curse after being knocked down, someone would immediately swarm over and punch and kick him until he shut up—or until he no longer had the ability to speak.
"Your Majesty, please… show them mercy…" Greenbeard looked at Robb nervously. "If this continues, some of them will die."
Robb glanced at him. That gaze held no emotion at all, yet it made Greenbeard feel ice-cold all over, unable to continue speaking.
Then he heard another calm sentence, one that made his limbs turn even colder.
"If I remember correctly, your identities are surrendered soldiers. In my place, do you really think you can come and go whenever you please?"
...
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Here are a few fan-fic titles that I've recently uploaded on my Patreon:
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" Game of Thrones: From the Elden Lord to the Young Wolf"
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(End Chapter)