"Your Majesty, we…"
Greenbeard fell silent. To be honest, there was still a trace of wishful thinking in his heart.
These past few days, Robb had been busy handling matters related to his coronation. As a result, these Tyroshi mercenaries had been directly mixed in with the Wolf Cavalry, blurring their sense of identity.
We're mercenaries who cut down Lannister banners and defected to House Stark. Now we're in the employ of House Stark—we're not prisoners.
Seeing that all the mercenaries present were clinging to this same line of thinking, Robb found it rather amusing.
Perhaps other lords would turn a blind eye, or even think that the mercenaries' reasoning made sense.
But Robb did not think that way.
You were enemies at first. Then you surrendered. That makes you surrendered officers.
And since you are surrendered officers, I have the right to dispose of you.
On the continent of Westeros, any interpretation can exist—but power has never been based on legality. It has always been based on strength.
Robb's current strength and influence meant that he could deal with this group of mercenaries however he pleased.
You are clay in my hands. I can knead you, shape you, and toy with you however I want. If you're not convinced, you're welcome to try reasoning with me.
It's just that my reasoning might—perhaps—be a lot bigger than yours.
Power is authority.
"Wake them all up. Everything I'm about to say, they are to memorize before tonight."
After Robb gave the order to the Wolf Cavalry, they quickly fetched buckets of cold water and dumped them over the mercenaries' heads. The icy shock immediately restored their clarity of mind.
"First: from this moment on, you are no longer mercenaries. You belong to me. You are Wolf Cavalry."
"Second: ask the veterans beside you. Make sure you understand clearly what my orders mean—both on the battlefield and in camp."
After saying this, Robb no longer concerned himself with whether the mercenaries lying on the ground—no, the Wolf Cavalry—would remember his words.
That was no longer something a king needed to worry about.
His subordinates would handle it.
What he needed to do was manage the system and regulations of the force.
"Smalljon, Greenbeard—divide these men into squads of ten. Four Northern Wolf Cavalry and six Tyroshi Wolf Cavalry per squad. Once you're done, bring me the roster."
"Establish ranks. Each squad of ten will have a captain and a deputy. The captain will be chosen internally. The deputy will be appointed by the captain."
"Every ten squads will form a hundred-man unit. Each unit will have one centurion and two assistants. I will personally select them from among the squad captains."
"The two of you will each be responsible for one hundred-man unit. Once the organization is complete, bring those who qualify to see me."
The Wolf Cavalry did not need to be overly large. Robb planned to stop expansion once the force reached one thousand men.
But the internal structure and discipline of the unit had to reach his ideal standard.
After two hours, Robb finally met the many centurion candidates.
Following a round of assessment, Robb selected several centurions and their deputies. The centurions were mostly nobles from the North—men he understood best.
Smalljon, Eddard Karstark, Dacey Mormont (heir to Maege of Bear Island), Cley Seven—among them, only Greenbeard was a centurion of Tyroshi origin.
Among the centurions' deputies, the numbers of Tyroshi and Northerners were roughly even. Robb valued martial prowess, and those chosen were all men who had performed well in the earlier brawl.
Robb looked at the centurions and said, "Your fathers are the counts I rely on most. I hope that within the Wolf Cavalry, you can display the same valor as your forebears."
"We offer our loyalty to Your Majesty! Long live the North!"
They answered in unison, leaving Greenbeard—who wasn't familiar with the slogan—looking slightly awkward.
Robb took out several sheets of paper. "You must keep your soldiers under control. This is the training schedule I've arranged for you. Discipline must be maintained during training, and orders are to be executed strictly."
The five centurions glanced over it and discovered that, aside from basic physical training, there were actually cultural studies included—arithmetic, astronomy, geography, and the like. What use were these things?
Though puzzled, none of them voiced any objections.
If His Majesty demanded it, they would simply do it.
This training plan had taken Robb a long time to think through. In the end, he decided to adopt a modern, militarized management model, with execution intensity somewhere between university military training and a professional army.
The squad-leader system was essentially an evolution of the class monitor system. Later on, Robb also planned to introduce team evaluations to create internal competition and positive stimulation.
Robb continued refining the Wolf Cavalry's structure: "Pass this down. Northern soldiers may, after one year of loyalty to me, request to leave the Wolf Cavalry—or they may choose to continue serving me for another year. If they are willing to stay with me permanently, I will allow them to swear an oath of fealty directly to me."
"As for the Tyroshi, given their status, they must serve me loyally for three years before they may request to leave. After that, they will be treated the same as Northern soldiers."
"Anyone who runs before their term is up—behead them, just like deserters from the Night's Watch."
Greenbeard immediately dropped to one knee halfway. "Thank you for Your Majesty's mercy."
Robb waved his hand. "Enough. Pack up. We depart immediately."
Robb's destination this time was Riverrun, but along the way he planned to clear out roaming bandits and brigands in the Riverlands as training for the Wolf Cavalry.
Greenbeard stepped forward, his expression troubled. "Your Majesty, some men's injuries are quite severe. They may not be able to set out immediately…"
Robb waved again, signaling that he understood.
He stood and walked into the midst of the newly numbered Wolf Cavalry units. All eyes focused on him.
Robb bent down. A gentle yet dazzling golden light appeared in his left hand.
Two circular halos, woven from mysterious runes, formed beneath his feet. They flowed slowly, then rapidly expanded outward.
Around Robb, streaks of golden light—like tiny shooting stars—appeared, circling and drifting.
Then the dreamlike scene quietly shattered. Yet everyone present could feel a warm current flowing through their bodies.
Robb straightened, as if nothing at all had happened.
But the Wolf Cavalry quickly realized that something had changed.
"M-my wounds are healed!"
"I've stopped bleeding!"
"My arm can move again!"
"A miracle!"
"Long live—!"
[King's Restoration] [A prayer spell that includes nearby allied units, greatly restoring health.]
This was an extremely taxing prayer. Robb's earlier killing had completely drained his mental power. Only after resting for some time did he have enough strength to cast it.
The veterans of the Wolf Cavalry had already witnessed Robb perform miracles several times, but for the new recruits, this was their first time.
The shock they felt was beyond words.
In an age like this, where a single man could heal hundreds with one gesture—this was exactly what a god looked like in their minds.
From this moment on, countless Tyroshi began worshiping Robb as a god in their hearts.
If a person's deeds, abilities, and presence all match one's image of a god—
Then he is a god.
"Long live the King in the North!"
"Long live the King in the North!"
This time, the cheers in the Wolf Cavalry camp were incomparably unified.
...
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Here are a few fan-fic titles that I've recently uploaded on my Patreon:
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(End Chapter)