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The next morning, while the sky was only beginning to grow light, Robb had already finished a hearty breakfast and, fully dressed, left the main keep for the training yard.
As soon as he passed through the stone gate, he saw that the yard — lined with archery targets and weapon racks — was occupied by a group of soldiers wearing standard leather armor. They stood motionless, watching him in silence.
His father, Eddard, and Ser Rodrik Cassel, likewise fully equipped for combat, were waiting for him on the wooden platform at the front of the yard.
Seeing the formation, Robb quickened his pace, and within moments he was standing beneath the platform.
"These warriors are the sons of many of the North's bannermen. From this day on, you will live, train, and fight alongside them."
The moment Robb came to a stop, Eddard spoke with a solemn expression and a firm voice.
Hearing this, Robb quickly swept his gaze across the ranks and saw that, indeed, most of them were young faces.
Eddard pointed at Robb with his right hand and continued, turning toward the warriors.
"Robb Stark, the next Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. You were born in the North, and one day, you will also be buried in the North.
From this day on, he will entrust his life to you, and in return, he will share honor and glory with you.
All of you will be brothers with whom he may speak openly from the heart, and comrades worthy of trusting with his back in battle.
The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives!
You are his pack!"
"Loyal unto death to Lord Stark!"
The moment Eddard finished speaking, a cry rang out among the soldiers, and soon the others began to answer.
"Loyal unto death to Lord Robb!"
"Loyal unto death!"
"Loyal unto death!"
Hearing the cries gradually merge into one voice, Robb felt his blood begin to stir, and a powerful surge of excitement surged through him.
In Westeros, succession traditionally followed the right of the eldest son. Even so, Eddard still had the authority to name Brandon, Rickon, or any of his other sons as his heir.
But what Eddard was doing at that moment was called the Wolf Pack Ceremony, the equivalent of officially declaring Robb as the heir to the North.
Even if Robb were to become incompetent or lead a debauched life in the future, so long as he did not commit unforgivable crimes such as murdering his father or king, no one would be able to challenge his right of inheritance.
'The wolf king should have a pack of his own.'
The Wolf Pack Ceremony was an unwritten tradition of House Stark.
It consisted of the current lord gathering a personal guard for the next Lord of the North.
Of course, when Eddard was eighteen, the Mad King had burned his father and elder brother alive without warning.
At the time, Eddard had been living in the Eyrie. As a result, he inherited his title without ever going through this traditional rite.
Even so, being a man who honored tradition, he had long been selecting suitable sons of bannermen to perform this ceremony for Robb — only bringing it forward for certain reasons.
"From here on, they are in your hands, Ser Rodrik."
Looking at the fired-up soldiers in the yard, Eddard inclined his head toward Rodrik and then turned to leave.
Once the commotion finally settled down, it was Rodrik's turn to carry out his duty as master-at-arms.
Under his instruction, the thirty soldiers present began sparring in pairs.
This was a simulated combat exercise, so all of them wore leather armor and wielded blunted swords with no edge.
Although those swords could not cut through leather armor, a powerful blow still caused considerable pain.
As for Robb, who was left without a partner at that moment, his opponent was naturally the experienced Ser Rodrik.
After a round of swordplay, Rodrik praised Robb with great satisfaction, saying he had done very well.
But Robb was not satisfied with himself at all.
When it came to combat, the original Robb could be considered quite well-rounded.
Tactics, swordsmanship, archery, horsemanship, and hand-to-hand combat — he was competent in all of them and had natural talent.
But it was precisely because he pursued being too well-rounded and spread himself across too many areas that he never reached the very peak in any one of them.
For example, the Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister.
He was not exceptional in other respects, but with a sword in both hands, he could be considered one of the greatest swordsmen in Westeros.
Another example was Jory Cassel, captain of Eddard's guard.
When they had accompanied Robb in pursuing the deserters from House Bolton, Robb had been too focused on his own fighting to observe the rest.
But according to Theon's casual remarks, Jory had ridden his horse straight into the deserters' defensive formation and cut down several men as if they were nothing.
Even so, months later in King's Landing, after killing several Lannister guards, Jory was slain by Jaime Lannister with a single stroke.
Although Jaime had been fresher, the real reason was simply that he was far too strong.
After Rodrik moved on to instruct the other warriors, Robb continued his daily sword training alone.
When he finished, he realized his swordsmanship had reached a certain plateau.
Ordinary training could only reinforce the basics, but it would be difficult to bring about any real breakthrough.
By contrast, real combat against the deserters' captain had greatly matured his swordsmanship.
Unfortunately, suitable opponents like that were rare.
Since sword training was yielding little improvement for the moment, Robb simply chose to rest where he was and began observing the men who were meant to become his personal guard.
Even knowing that they were loyal warriors chosen by Eddard, Robb had no intention of trusting them so easily.
In the world of Westeros, betrayal was far too common. Only those he personally approved of would earn his trust.
Among them all, the one who drew the most attention was a female warrior at least six feet tall.
Unlike another famous female warrior — Brienne of Tarth, whose physical strength rivaled that of many men — she possessed a tall, slender frame.
As she fought, her steps were swift and graceful, almost as if she were performing a sword dance.
Her style of combat did not seem typical of Westeros.
In fact, it resembled the Water Dance of Braavos a little.
Another who stood out was an enormous man with a thick beard, nearly seven and a half feet tall.
He perfectly embodied the fighting style of Westeros.
The training sword looked small in his hands.
Wielding it with both hands, he delivered violent blows that forced his opponent into a purely defensive posture.
Even so, the sons of the North's bannermen were all capable warriors.
Though he was under pressure, his opponent still managed to block every one of the giant's attacks.
After adapting to the rhythm, he even began to strike back from time to time, gradually disrupting the giant's offensive flow.
Robb understood immediately.
If the fight continued like this, that man would be the one to win.
And that was exactly what happened.
Unable to break through his opponent's defense, the giant eventually lost all rhythm in his attacks.
In the end, he took a strike to the left side of his waist.
Pain twisted his face, but he gritted his teeth and refused to cry out.
Unlike the usual basic training, the training continued for much longer than usual.
Only near midday, when Ser Rodrik loudly announced a break, did the soldiers who had trained all morning finally let out relieved sighs.
They began gathering around Robb.
Some declared their loyalty, while others tried to draw closer to him.
Robb did not disappoint them.
With a smile on his face, he responded to them one by one, speaking and greeting each in turn.
In doing so, he also learned some of their names.
The female warrior was called Dacey Mormont, of House Mormont of Bear Island.
The giant was Smalljon Umber, of House Umber.
His opponent was Owen Norrey, of Clan Norrey of the mountain clans.
With the exception of Smalljon Umber, whose name he had heard before, Robb did not recognize any of the others.
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