"What happened?"
Aldric walked over quickly, frowning at the scene.
Basque, who had been chatting happily just moments ago, lay on the ground covered in blood. Eddie knelt beside him, pressing on the wounds on his chest and abdomen, asking anxiously, "Commander, can he be saved?"
Aldric quickly tore open Basque's clothes to check.
On his abdomen, Aldric found two stab wounds, clearly piercing the intestines, and another stab wound right next to the heart. Critical condition.
At this time, a lean, wiry man with withered yellow curly hair was pinned to the ground. Beside him lay a bloody dagger.
Even controlled like a pig waiting for slaughter, Yellow Hair shouted defiantly, "Let me go! You bastards! Dare treat me like this, Lord Roose Bolton won't spare you!"
Hearing this, a short, stout man kicked Yellow Hair in the stomach, scolding angrily, "I don't know if Lord Bolton will spare me, but you stabbed Basque, so Lord Medger Cerwyn definitely won't spare you."
Situation critical, Aldric had no time for their rights and wrongs. He shouted to people nearby, "Go, get strong alcohol."
The Cerwyn warriors reacted quickly, bringing a large mug of strong spirits immediately.
Aldric took it and poured it onto Basque's wounds without hesitation, trying to wash away the filth.
However, even after washing, blood still gushed from the wounds. The severity was evident.
Aldric pressed both hands tightly on the wound on Basque's left chest, praying loudly with deep and anxious emotion:
"Oh Sun, your brilliant radiance illuminates every corner of the earth, like a beacon of hope, guiding our way in darkness."
"Your warmth sprinkles the earth, dispelling cold, bringing vitality. All things grow strong under your shine, blooming with incomparable brilliance."
"You are the source of light. Your existence fills the world with vigor. Your power inspires us to move forward, fearless of hardship, fearless of death!"
"Awaken, Warrior Basque!"
With Aldric's prayer, a faint golden light flashed in his hands. The ensuing intense pain made the previously unfocused Basque struggle violently like a fish on a chopping board.
Seeing this, Aldric grew more anxious. He turned to Eddie urgently, "My power alone cannot fully summon the Sun God's grace. Quick, call your friends to pray with me!"
"Oh Sun, your brilliant radiance..." Aldric's prayer sounded again, firmer and more powerful this time.
Cerwyn warriors hesitated upon hearing this divine name for the first time.
However, seeing Basque lying on the ground—a comrade and brave warrior critically injured—their doubts vanished instantly.
If an outsider could try so hard, how could they stand aside?
Thus, led by Eddie and Rennel, Cerwyn warriors joined the prayer. Their voices converged into a force not to be underestimated.
This force not only shocked everyone present but also infected warriors of other families watching.
Moved by the solemn atmosphere, they couldn't help but join the prayer.
After three solemn recitations, Aldric shouted with all his strength: "Awaken, Basque! Under the Guardian Sun's radiance, awaken!"
This time, Aldric cast Holy Light. The light, dazzling as outdoor daylight, instantly obscured everyone's vision.
When the light faded and everyone recovered, Basque had miraculously come back to life, twisting his body on the ground covered in cold sweat, gasping for air.
Aldric swayed as he stood up. Though exhausted, he didn't forget to instruct Eddie, "Eddie, find clothes for Basque quickly. Don't let him die of something stupid like a cold right after I snatched his life from the Death God."
"Understood, Commander." Eddie nodded, moving quickly.
Then, Aldric added: "Also, though Basque is your friend, he isn't a Silver Hand member. By rules, the ten Gold Dragons treatment fee cannot be waived. Remember to hand this money to the Quartermaster after returning."
Eddie froze, muttering internally: There wasn't this rule before, and isn't the Quartermaster me?
But thinking briefly, he understood Aldric's intent and answered solemnly, "I understand, Commander. I'll hand the money to the Quartermaster after returning, ensuring everything follows rules."
Aldric nodded satisfactorily, gently pushed aside the shocked Cerwyn warriors blocking him, and left the tavern slowly with Rennel's support.
Reaching a deserted alley, Aldric straightened up, returning to normal.
Rennel, who saw through everything, wasn't surprised but frowned slightly. "Ten Gold Dragons, isn't it a bit high? Not a small sum; ordinary people can't afford it."
Aldric shook his head. "If just saving a life, one Gold Dragon is enough. But for full recovery, naturally at least ten Gold Dragons."
"As for those who really can't pay, free is fine, but they must pay a price I deem appropriate."
"After all, treating people costs me too."
"Today Eddie pulled this suddenly; I was indeed caught off guard."
"However, I foresaw this day would come, so might as well set the price now to avoid wrangling later."
Rennel nodded in agreement. "Good. People often don't cherish things obtained too cheaply."
Leaving Eddie entangled at "Smoke & Fire," the two returned to camp.
Not long after arriving, a messenger from Winterfell rode into camp. Carrying Robb's password, he found Aldric, who was rolling up sleeves forging weapons for his men.
The messenger said respectfully: "Commander Aldric, Lord Robb invites you to a banquet in the city tomorrow evening."
Aldric put down the hammer immediately, stuffed a Silver Stag into the man's hand. "Just me? Anyone else?"
Accepting the coin, the messenger explained, "Lord Robb invited commanders of House Stark's direct troops, mainly Sheriffs guarding various places, and a small number of mercenary captains."
"You'd better bring an attendant. I heard Lord Robb had the kitchen prepare lots of wine."
Aldric considered his messenger Marvin, a Free Folk not suitable for noble gatherings.
And Jon's face, clearly written "I am a Stark," wasn't suitable to appear before Sheriffs either.
Finally, Aldric decided to have Kevin drop his work and come along.
Next afternoon, Aldric and Kevin changed into their best clothes, strapped on swords, mounted horses, and rode to Winterfell.
Passing through Winterfell's open gates, led by servants, master and student prepared to enter the bustling Great Hall.
Inside, voices of various tones rose and fell. Men shouted around tables filled with food, the atmosphere heated enough to lift the roof.
Guided by a waiter, Aldric sat at a table near the back. Beside him sat several tough-looking men: a bald old man with a white beard, a youth with messy red hair like a chicken nest, a tall but thin middle-aged man with sharp eyes... Aldric nodded politely to them, then found an empty seat on the left.
After a while, led by two servants, Robb entered the hall and sat at the high table. Bran was carried by servants to a chair on his right.
Robb stood up, scanning the crowd majestically. Behind him lay a huge Grey Direwolf.
Gradually, the noisy hall quieted down.
"Loyal Sheriffs of House Stark!" Robb raised his goblet, red wine glowing blood-red in the sway.
"Eleven days ago, black ravens brought shocking news from King's Landing—my father, your leader, the rightful ruler of the North, was imprisoned for treason by that foolish little King on the Iron Throne!"
"Joffrey Baratheon disregarded the long friendship between our two houses and my father's huge contribution to the realm, forcing my father to admit a non-existent treason crime, and detaining my two sisters, Sansa and Arya!"
"This is naked betrayal, a great insult to Northern loyalty! We absolutely cannot tolerate such injustice happening in Westeros!"
"Gentlemen present are House Stark's most loyal and powerful warriors. Are you willing to raise the banner of revenge with me and seek justice from that foolish child on the Iron Throne?"
The hall boiled over instantly. Sheriffs raised goblets shouting:
"Willing!"
"Eye for an eye!"
"Another Hour of the Wolf! Let Lannisters and Baratheons know Northerners aren't to be trifled with!"
Northern hearts filled with desire for revenge. Direwolves thirsted for blood baptism.
The Sheriffs present were direct administrators of towns and villages on House Stark's direct lands.
They lived in the settlements they guarded, acting as House Stark's hands and eyes, coordinating disputes, protecting villagers, and collecting taxes.
From taxes, they kept a part as remuneration, handing the rest to House Stark as military funds and wealth.
When House Stark summoned, these Sheriffs would unhesitatingly raise the Winter Wolf banner, leading their soldiers to fight bravely wherever the Wolf banner pointed, until death.
Currently, these fifty-plus Sheriffs and their troops constituted the core power controlled by House Stark, the true pillar of their dominance in the North.
As the saying goes, "Lord humiliated, subject dies." When their liege Eddard Stark suffered injustice in King's Landing like his father sixteen years ago, what they could do was pick up weapons like sixteen years ago, kill all the way to King's Landing, and overturn the tyrant on the Iron Throne!
In the fanatical atmosphere, Robb officially ordered the banquet to begin.
Warriors who could become Sheriffs were all veterans following House Stark for years, very familiar with each other.
Rarely gathering under the Stark Wolf banner to march again, Sheriffs temporarily put aside revenge thoughts and started drinking heavily.
This was Aldric's first time attending a banquet organized by the Lord in Winterfell's Great Hall. As a mercenary captain personally recruited by Robb, Aldric seemed somewhat out of place among these Sheriffs.
Kevin was arranged at tables outside the hall with other Sheriffs' subordinates, so Aldric could only hide in a corner alone, eating cut pork thigh pieces and tasting wine from the Arbor.
After drinking alone for a while, a familiar voice suddenly sounded in Aldric's ear. "Commander Aldric, you're here too?"
Aldric looked up. It was Nicholas Jenkins from Purple Wisteria Village.
"Mr. Nicholas, you came too?" Aldric asked.
Nicholas sat beside Aldric with a large cup of wine. "Yes, you know my father-in-law's health; he can't fight, so he entrusted me to come in his stead."
Then Nicholas asked curiously, "Why are you here? Did Lord Robb appoint you a Sheriff?"
Aldric shook his head. "No. I came to Winterfell for business a while ago. Lord Robb asked if I wanted to join the war; I said yes."
Nicholas asked again, "How many men do you have now?"
"Forty-something. Why?"
Nicholas explained, "Sheriffs here, some were granted more villages, two or three; few have only one; some in prosperous towns."
"So troops brought this time vary, some over a hundred, some twenty or thirty. Forty-something is comparable to mid-level Sheriffs."
Aldric understood. Though mercenaries, as an organized unit hired directly, they enjoyed direct officer treatment.
However, Aldric knew clearly Jon's face played a big role.
"Why drinking alone here? Come, I'll introduce you to future comrades!" Nicholas said enthusiastically, pulling Aldric to his table. He introduced to friends: "Sheriffs, this is the warrior I mentioned, Silver Hand Commander Aldric Seris! He took out sixty-odd Wildlings with twenty men!"
As soon as Nicholas finished, a Sheriff slapped his forehead in surprise. "So you're the one who killed an Ice Spider in Rabbit's Paw Village! Haha, the North welcomes you!"
Another Sheriff said, "I heard of you! You fought the Kingslayer to a draw before the King!"
Aldric's long-managed reputation finally showed a bit here.
Nicholas just mentioned his name, and several Sheriffs recounted his achievements, flattering him.
At this time, a short, fat Sheriff walked over with a large cup of wine, laughing: "Good martial arts, how can there be no good capacity for liquor? Come, Commander Aldric, finish this cup, let us see your capacity!"
Aldric never liked drinking since childhood. He disliked the taste and the dissolute feeling after drinking.
But at this moment, after a slight hesitation, he took the cup, raised it high, shouting: "Long live Stark! Long live the North!" Then he gulped it down in one breath.
Onlooking Sheriffs applauded and cheered: "Good!" "Good capacity!" "Real man!"
At this time, Robb, who had walked down the steps into the crowd, raised his small cup responding, "House Stark will forever remember your loyalty!"
"Long live!"
"Long live the North!"
"Long live the children of the First Men!"
The atmosphere in the hall reached a climax.
High spirits further fueled the men's drinking. Sheriffs stopped staring at Aldric alone, seizing the chance to find guys they had grudges with for revenge drinking. The banquet instantly became extremely lively, a chaotic mess.
As soon as Aldric put down the empty cup, the waiter seemed extra enthusiastic, refilling it to the brim without a second's pause.
Under alcohol's effect, Aldric got excited too. One hand holding pork leg, one holding wine cup, he wandered the hall, drinking with every Sheriff he passed or who passed him.
When feeling his bladder about to burst, he went to the corner, imitating others to "output" against the wall, then returned to fight.
When servants cleared the leftovers, in the entire venue, only Young Master Bran who hadn't touched a drop, and Aldric who drank everyone under the table, could sit straight.
Others, regardless of status or age, all lay on the ground in disorder.
Even Robb, drinking from a small cup, was now lying by a table with bleary eyes.
Seeing the banquet end, the dizzy Aldric bid farewell to the unconscious Robb. Under servants' shocked and admiring gazes, he turned and left the hall filled with pungent alcohol, sour vomit, and corner urine smells.
He found Kevin dealing with steak in the outer hall. With Kevin's help, they rode back in the shivering cold wind.
Two mornings later, all Sheriffs recovered from hangovers and gathered troops early on the open ground outside Hunter's Gate. Meanwhile, mercenaries intending to join the war gathered upon hearing news, ready to pick favored teams to join.
Fifty-eight units stood in piles by flags. Each flag represented their village.
For example, Rabbit's Paw Village's flag was a bleeding rabbit paw, Purple Wisteria Village's a hanged fox.
When Aldric led his forty-odd men into this sea of people, it was like a water drop merging into a vast ocean.
"Gods, I've never seen so many people." Squad 1's Vitaly looked at the dense soldiers on the open ground, sighing.
"Who hasn't..." Aldric responded, looking at these scattered yet murderous thousands, sighing internally.
He didn't know how many would fall on Southern battlefields in this coming war, and how many could return with glory.
Finally, when the sun was high, the Acting Lord's guard transmitted the marching order: "March!"