(Third-person perspective)
An hour before the impending raid, the lords of the North convened a war council around a large oak table. The dim light cast dancing shadows on their faces, emphasizing their serious expressions. Lord Stark expressed his concerns with a tone of skepticism.
"Are you sure, Lord Drasil?" he asked. "I doubt that 200 knights and 300 archers are enough to defend the port. If I were in place of the Three Sisters people, I would attack the port with at least two or three thousand men."
Aermir, radiating unwavering confidence, replied firmly, "Don't worry, sir. I don't mean to belittle anyone, but I must emphasize a crucial point. The Order of Drasil and the Order of Paladins are no ordinary knightly orders. I assure you, each of them is equivalent to ten ordinary soldiers or five knights. I am not exaggerating."
Aermir's imposing demeanor carried weight, but it wasn't enough to completely dispel the doubts of the North lords. Although they had witnessed firsthand the unparalleled cohesion and discipline of Aermir's army, their sheer numbers still troubled them. In their eyes, the difference between their own knights and Aermir's knights was negligible. As for the paladins, they believed they were merely using different names to disguise their knighthood. Aermir's penchant for giving unique names to various units only deepened their confusion; for example, calling his 300 archers "rangers" was a decision they couldn't comprehend.
"If you still have doubts about me," Aermir continued, his voice filled with unwavering determination, "Then let us test you, lords."
This suggestion piqued the interest of the lords. They realized it was a challenge, and that it was possible, if not possible, to reject Lord Aermir's bold proposal.
He continued, his tone unwavering. "Let us step out from the Wall. You may choose any one of my knights. It can be anyone. The chosen knight will fight against ten of your soldiers or five of your knights. If my warrior wins this contest, you must guarantee unquestionable obedience to my orders until the battle is over. However, if my knight loses, I will offer you a 20% discount on any of my goods."
When Aermir made his proposal, a murmur of curiosity rippled through the council hall. The lords exchanged glances, clearly considering the implications of the challenge. It was a gamble that could potentially sway the course of their elections, and Lord Aermir's conviction had piqued their interest.
The pragmatic Lord Stark spoke first. "Very well, Lord Drasil," he agreed. "Your proposal is fair. We will accept your challenge and test your demands. This will be an opportunity to measure the true strength of your knights."
The other lords nodded in agreement, their expressions a mixture of anticipation and curiosity. The prospect of Lord Aermir offering a 20% discount on his goods was tempting, but the outcome of this test would have far-reaching consequences. They were willing to take the gamble.
Lord Stark could not easily accept the idea that a single knight chosen by Aermir could defeat five of their own experienced warriors. In his view, Aermir's rapid rise might have instilled in him an unwarranted arrogance.
Undeniably, Lord Drasil possesses wisdom, martial prowess, and even the abilities of Warg, but in Karstark's eyes, he is still a relatively young man—a mere twenty-one-year-old. Lord Stark believes he is suffering from the same pain most young people experience: excessive arrogance.
Lord Stark didn't want to choose someone who appeared weak, lest others tacitly support him behind his back. So he chose someone of average appearance and height. His choice fell to Walton Wall, a knight from a rugged Mountain Clans who held a high position in the Order of Drasil. Walton was 1.75 meters (about 5.80 feet) tall, robust, and unremarkable in appearance.
Walton Wall strode forward, his unassuming appearance contrasting sharply with the anticipation filling the air. Aermir quickly approached him, Aermir a firm handshake and enthusiastic congratulations, thanking him for being chosen as the knight representative. Unbeknownst to the onlookers, as the chosen one's skin darkened, subtle smiles appeared on the faces of Aermir's knights and paladins.
Meanwhile, Lord Stark methodically selected four of his finest knights from among his followers to participate in the challenge. As he considered his final choices, his gaze was drawn to a figure among the paladins—a distant nephew whose name he couldn't immediately recall. This young man was a little-known member of the family and had clearly left Karhold to seek his own path and reputation.
Lord Stark smiled slyly and said, "I choose Caden Karstark." His words sent a chill down the spines of the paladins who recognized the name; their expressions darkened with worry. Aermir quickly discerned Lord Stark's intentions. He entered, his tone firm and confident.
"My lord, you cannot choose one of the paladins simply because he is your relative," Aermir warned, narrowing his eyes.
Lord Stark defended his choice, saying, "He is a man of Karhold, and I am the lord of Karhold. He is my man."
Aermir's patience wore thin, and he was enraged. "Paladin, to whom do you serve?"
Although Caden Karstark was related to Lord Stark by family, he answered without hesitation, "You, Commander."
Aermir pressed further. "Are you a knight of Karstark?"
The paladin remained unmoved. "I'm not, Commander."
"Who are you?" Aermir asked.
"I am a paladin of the Old Gods! I only obey the commands of the Commander and the Emre the Druid!"
Caden blatantly disregarded Lord Stark's orders, leaving the latter with a bitter taste in his mouth. Aermir realized the need to emphasize the command structure and intervened again. He turned to Lord Stark and issued a stern warning.
"Don't try to be clever about this, sir," Aermir cautioned. "The moment they swear their oath, it doesn't matter whether he's your son or not. They will become my subordinates. Choose one of them yourself."
Lord Stark was clearly unhappy with the situation, but he had no choice but to comply. He quickly selected the last knight, and with anticipation, five valiant warriors surrounded Walton Wall, and the match began.