As a modern Chinese young man who had never served in the military and had only undergone three rounds of compulsory military training (junior high, high school, and university), Ethan had never actually drilled soldiers before.
His closest experience was leading a progression raiding guild in Azeroth—explaining boss mechanics, assigning positions, and coaching teammates through wipes.
Fortunately the Silver Hand was still very much a makeshift outfit at this stage.
Ethan paid their wages provided food and drink and possessed overwhelming personal strength.
So even though the training was both intense and rushed the men gritted their teeth and persevered—bolstered by veteran Conrad's steady presence—and no one openly complained.
Over the next two days Ethan taught the recruits to recognize front/back/left/right and master stationary facing turns.
He spent another full day explaining the core combat principles of the "Duck Formation": he didn't expect every man to fully understand it—four out of ten grasping the concept was enough.
The real goal was simple: prevent the group from scattering in battle and ensure everyone fought according to their assigned role.
On the fourth day he ordered both squads to gear up and run a mock engagement.
Perhaps because they shared the same instructor neither side could break the other's line as spear tips clashed and clanged.
With no other choice Ethan called Jon and Eddie over and personally played the role of the "enemy" alongside them.
To his pleasant surprise although the recruits' movements were still clumsy reactions slow and coordination awkward—when he restrained himself to ordinary bandit strength and did not unleash Lich-King-slaying power—he couldn't even approach the formation properly.
While the small number of "attackers" was certainly a factor the squads' defensive cohesion using the adapted Swan Formation was genuinely impressive.
Elated on the final afternoon before departure Ethan handed each squad leader and vice-leader two silver moons and told them to take four men each into Winterfell for an evening of fun.
Meanwhile he Eddie and Jon returned to the blacksmith courtyard to inventory travel supplies.
Considering the distance and mission requirements Eddie had bought large quantities of dried meat hard bread and dried cheese—all good solid fare.
To better organize and protect supplies Ethan had earlier given Brother John some coin asking him to have carpenters install weatherproof decking on both wagons.
With proper decking and canvas covers goods stayed dry even in rain so long as everything was loaded and secured.
This way even if Wisteria Village or the surrounding area could provide no food the company would still have enough rations to last a considerable time.
After finishing the supply check Ethan squatted in the yard scratching the now-purring bear cub under its chin (the little beast was begging for another apple) and asked Lennar:
"Lennar—are you coming with us on this job again?"
Lennar had accompanied Ethan to the Wall before.
Though they had seen one of the wonders of the world the two-month absence had also meant no income—which Ethan felt somewhat guilty about.
Lennar wasn't worried about the money but still asked:
"What would I do if I went along to suppress bandits? Sing battle hymns?"
Ethan nodded seriously.
"Exactly—you'd boost morale during fights and tell stories at night when things are quiet.
Didn't you say the Tobacco Tavern cut your pay?
Why not come work for me instead?
It may not match tavern singing money but it's far more stable."
Lennar hesitated.
"I'm a bard—not a soldier."
Ethan explained:
"Even in a mercenary company not everyone fights on the front line.
I formally invite you to join the Silver Hand as liaison officer—responsible for dealing with nobles merchants and local authorities across the realm.
Your pay will be captain-level: ten silver moons per month."
"That's not much."
"With the Silver Hand behind you at least no one will dare break your fingers again so easily."
Those words seemed to strike something deep in Lennar.
He extended his hand.
"All right—I'm in."
Thus of the original four who had settled together in this little Winterfell courtyard three had now joined the Silver Hand—leaving only John somewhat on the outside.
Ethan had also sounded out John's intentions.
After all a skilled craftsman could play a huge role in the company's future plans.
Siege ladders battering rams stone-throwing catapults anti-cavalry stakes—if overseen by John even if the men built them themselves Ethan would feel far more confident in the results.
Unfortunately John was a man of faith and had no desire to make his living in the mercenary world.
Ethan didn't push.
Everyone has their own path—one cannot force it.
Besides constantly praising "the Sun God is supreme" or "praise the Sun forever" in front of a Seven-pointed-star devotee would probably be awkward for both of them.
On the morning of the fifth day after signing the bandit-suppression contract Ethan led the fledgling Silver Hand out on their first true mission.
At this point the company roster stood as follows:
- Commander: Ethan Cole
- Vice-Commander / Quartermaster / Chief Scout: Eddie
- Vice-Commander / First Squad Leader: Conrad
- Liaison Officer / Second Squad Leader: Jon Snow
- First Squad Vice-Leader: Vitaly
- Second Squad Vice-Leader: Kevin Turner
The commander drew three shares vice-commanders and the liaison officer drew two shares ordinary soldiers drew one share each.
After loading the camp supplies the entire force of twenty-four men marched in disciplined formation through Winterfell's streets drawing considerable attention.
When this column of twenty-odd men plus two loaded wagons appeared before Roland the old soldier narrowed his eyes and exclaimed:
"Captain Ethan—your soldiers look quite impressive!"
Ethan was puzzled—the tone didn't sound entirely like praise.
Because he had ordered the men to march in proper "swan formation" the company did indeed appear disciplined at first glance.
Ethan replied modestly:
"Of course—they're all good men."
Roland nodded.
"Then follow me."
Wisteria Village lay on the southern slopes of the Northern Mountains.
From Winterfell the route ran five days north along the Kingsroad then three days west.
The long chain of the Northern Mountains formed a natural shield northwest of Winterfell blocking the worst arctic winds and allowing crops to grow across the vast North—sustaining the descendants of the First Men.
But because of their proximity to the Wall wildlings who crossed below the Shadow Tower and intended to remain south long-term often chose these mountains to build strength.
When their numbers grew large enough they would sweep down like a tide flooding nearby villages—only to be crushed by Stark Umber or Karstark forces.
The cycle repeated endlessly.
Jon Snow—who had been riding as Ethan's messenger—asked Roland:
"Then why didn't you wait for Lord Stark to send troops?"
Roland glanced at him pursed his lips and said:
"Children raised in summer don't understand the terror of winter.
Yes—the duke will certainly send men.
After a glorious battle he will eventually annihilate the wildling raiders who crossed the border.
But by then our village will likely be ashes our homes overgrown with weeds."
Since joining the Silver Hand as a Night's Watch representative Jon had been forbidden to mention his status as Lord Stark's bastard son in front of the men.
Only Ethan and his senior brother Kevin knew his true identity.
Everyone else hearing his name simply assumed Ethan had picked up some unwanted noble bastard.
Roland's words sounded like a slight against the duke's authority—yet the logic was so ironclad it was difficult to refute.
Jon—who was determined to defend his father's dignity—found himself speechless.
Having seen how the Redfort garrison commander had reacted to the pirate raid Ethan noticed the same passivity here.
He asked:
"If it's only a few dozen wildlings couldn't Garrison Commander Geigar simply lead his own men into the mountains?
I imagine other garrison commanders nearby are also being harassed.
Couldn't they combine forces and sweep the area together?"
Roland gave a helpless sigh.
"Ah—you'll understand when you meet Geigar.
There's more to the story."
Ethan didn't press further and silently followed Roland toward Wisteria Village.
Wisteria Village sat at the foot of the Northern Mountains along a winding river.
Roughly one hundred households—four or five hundred souls—made it a fairly large settlement by northern standards.
After settling the company in a sheltered woodland outside the village Ethan accompanied by Jon and Lennar followed Roland to Garrison Commander Geigar Solag's residence.
The commander's house stood on high ground in the village's northwest corner—a square enclosure of thick logs surrounding a two-story timber-and-stone keep complete with stables and a small drill yard.
While waiting outside the gate for Roland to announce them Ethan studied the village layout.
Apart from the commander's fortified residence all outer houses were built wall-to-wall with no gaps between them.
A single main road ran through the center protected by a sturdy gate.
If Ethan had to assault this place he would have few easy options.
Could wildling bandits really break into such a settlement?
With that question lingering he followed Roland into the keep's hall.
Geigar Solag was in his fifties but looked closer to seventy.
When he appeared he wore a heavy black bearskin coat and sat in the high seat flanked by a slightly plump woman.
His thin frame seemed almost swallowed by the oversized chair.
Beside the short plump woman stood a tall capable-looking middle-aged man with brown hair and dark eyes.
Though he appeared competent a quiet melancholy clung to his gaze.
Seeing the guests enter Geigar pointed at Lennar in a weak voice:
"Roland—cousin—is this the reinforcement you brought me?"
Roland followed the pointing finger and shook his head.
"No Geigar.
The tall young man beside him is the leader of the Silver Hand."
Geigar chuckled hoarsely.
"Hahaha—I should have guessed.
But alas—I'm too old now."
Ethan immediately gave him an out.
"It's fine Commander.
Every morning when I look in the water and see this youthful face staring back I can hardly believe he's the commander of the Silver Hand myself.
But fate has placed us here—so there must be a reason."
"Yes…"
Geigar nodded slowly.
"Fate always arranges things best.
Sit—let's talk.
Klein—have Martha bring bread salt and fruit wine for our guests."
The plump woman sighed.
"Father—I'm not Klein.
I'm Anya.
Klein married into Wind-shelter Valley long ago."
Geigar blinked in sudden recognition.
"Anya? Oh yes.
I attended your wedding not long ago.
Has that rascal Nik been treating you well?"
"Nik is standing right behind you Father—and we've been married nearly fifteen years.
Please—sit down."
Anya gave Ethan and the others an apologetic smile.
"My father's memory hasn't been good these past few years.
He often confuses people."
Then to the middle-aged man beside her:
"Nik—have Fina hurry with the food for our guests.
It's rude to keep them waiting."
"Right."
The man turned and left the hall.
After Anya helped Geigar settle back into his chair silence fell again—the atmosphere grew awkward.
Roland cleared his throat.
"Geigar—the Silver Hand is the mercenary company I hired from Winterfell.
With Howard as witness—they are very capable and can help us eliminate the North Mountain bandits."
After another long pause Geigar—as though waking from a dream—said:
"The North Mountain bandits?
Weren't they crushed by young Lord Brandon and his men?
Afterward I even went with them to Winterfell to pay respects to Duke Rickard."
Ethan was stunned.
Brandon was so formidable he led troops against bandits at age seven?
"Father—Duke Rickard has been dead for sixteen years."
"Ah yes—the duke died in King's Landing—"
Moments later Geigar suddenly clutched Anya's hand excitement flashing in his eyes.
"Don't let the duke go to King's Landing!
He'll die!
Lyra—hurry—send someone to warn the duke not to go!"
A wet slurping sound suddenly filled the hall accompanied by an unpleasant odor.
Anya flushed and said to the guests:
"My father isn't well—I'll take him to rest.
Nik—you speak with them."
Nik—now accompanied by a maid who had brought bread salt and fruit wine—gave a helpless nod.
"Yes—take Father to rest."
After Anya and a guard helped Geigar leave the hall the strange smell slowly faded.
Nik sat opposite Ethan and the others took a few sips of fruit wine and said:
"I'm sorry—my father-in-law has been confused for several years.
Let's discuss the matter first.
When he's lucid I'll report everything to him."
Finally someone who could communicate normally had appeared—Ethan breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
"All right Mr. Nik—please tell me everything you know about these bandits."
"What aspect?"
"Everything—anything at all."
Nik thought back.
"They appeared more than two months ago—"
After listening to Nik's account Ethan gained a rough understanding of the situation.
Two months earlier shortly after King Robert's royal party left Winterfell villagers in Wisteria were harvesting turnips in the outer fields during a break in the snowfall when a dozen or so men suddenly charged down from the mountains.
They stole all the gathered food and tried to abduct several young women working in the fields.
Fortunately it was daytime.
The villagers heard the screams rushed out with farm tools and drove the raiders off.
Thanks to the quick response the bandits took only the food—the women were too troublesome and were left behind.
After the rescued villagers returned home the nearly abducted women tearfully described two of the attackers speaking with southern accents and wearing black clothing while the rest were northerners with very strange accents.
Their clothes were made of stiff untanned leather and gave off a foul smell.
Hearing this Ethan immediately understood.
The two southerners in black were almost certainly deserters from the Night's Watch.
The rest—strange accents raw furs—were most likely the wildling raiding party Benjen had mentioned.
Ethan asked:
"And then?"
"After that raid the village increased its vigilance.
Women stopped going to the fields—the men did all the farm work.
When the men labored they kept weapons and tools close at hand.
Several veterans who had fought in past wars laid down their own work to stand permanent guard over the fields."
But this was no long-term solution.
The veterans had families to feed—the women could not remain indoors forever.
And the bandits hid in the vast mountains.
If not completely destroyed they would surely descend again when their food ran out.
No one knew whether they would strike by day or by night—or how many would come.
Even for the Solag family alone the bandits were a major headache.
The land at the foot of the Northern Mountains bordered the northern edge of the Wolfswood and teemed with game.
As garrison commander of Wisteria Village Geigar Solag and his family needed only to surrender half their catch to Winterfell to gain exclusive hunting rights on several nearby peaks.
The pelts and meat of deer goats and rabbits formed a vital part of the Solag family's income.
With bandits lurking in the mountains hunters dared not go out—no catch meant a sharp drop in family revenue.
If the wildlings could not be quickly eliminated or driven off the Solags would soon face ruin.
Hearing all this Ethan asked the question that had been bothering him:
"Then why doesn't Commander Geigar simply lead his own men into the mountains?"
Nik could only offer a helpless bitter smile.
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