(Third-person perspective)
The five knights chosen by Lord Stark carefully circled Walton Wall. Walton's plate armor gleamed in the gentle sunlight. The lifelike red and white weir tree on his chest drew the attention of the onlookers, as if it were a living tree.
A gasp swept through the hall as Walton drew his sword. The lords rose from their seats, their eyes fixed on Lord Drasil. Greatjon Umber was the first to speak, his voice filled with curiosity.
"My lord, is that Valyria sword?"
Aermir shook his head and offered an explanation. "No, sir. This is called Damascus steel, a new invention of the skilled the Smith of Moat Cailin. It's not magical, but because of its flexibility, it's more durable than ordinary steel."
Indeed, Damascus steel, a blend of hard and soft steel, slightly enhances the sword's flexibility and durability compared to ordinary steel. However, unlike Valyrian steel, it does not imbue the swords with magical properties. The true uniqueness of these swords lies in the subtle infusion of magic that Aermir and Tobho Mott skillfully infused into their meticulously crafted blades.
Aermir's tone carried a hint of arrogance. "My lord, I do not wish for your knights to be injured before battle. Shall we use training swords?"
Lord Stark Lord Stark's gaze shifted between the Damascus sword and Aermir. Not entirely convinced the sword was ordinary steel, he nodded and replied, "That seems wise. It's best not to let your knights take any unnecessary risks before the battle begins."
With their consent, all the contestants laid down their sharp swords and donned dulled training swords. Five Karstark knights, wielding their dulled training swords, confronted Walton Wall, Drasil Knights. Unbeknownst to the Karstark, Walton Wall wore magical armor and had received a powerful buff from Aermir, transforming him into a formidable force, comparable to the strength of the Mountain and the agility of Oberyn Martell, renowned warriors of the Seven Kingdoms. Normally, Walton's strength was 14 and his speed 13, but with Aermir's enhancement, his strength reached 18 and his speed 17. The fastest Karstark knight had a speed of 15, and the strongest had a strength of 15. Based on their stats and equipment, they were all significantly inferior.
The Karstark knights initially adhered to the code of chivalry, attacking Walton Wall one by one. They understood that a group attack was against their chivalrous principles. When the first knight thrust forward with his training sword, Walton displayed his extraordinary speed and agility, dodging the attack and counterattacking with a precise strike.
However, as the match progressed, Walton's strength became increasingly apparent, and the Karstark Knights began to feel frustrated. They didn't want to be defeated in such a one-sided manner. The knights nodded in unison, abandoning their strict adherence to the code of honor, and were ordered to launch a coordinated attack from the very beginning.
In a series of attacks and parries, five Karstark knights simultaneously launched an assault on Walton. Their swords danced in unison, their attacks aimed at overwhelming their opponent. Despite the combined assault, Walton remained relentless.
His magical armor absorbed their impact, and the increased strength and speed allowed him to withstand their attacks. Walton countered with a series of attacks, forcing the Karstark knights to retreat and defend themselves.
They tried to surround him, but he grabbed one of them and tossed him around like a rag doll. As time went on, his astonishing strength and agility overwhelmed the knights. One by one, they found themselves disarmed or on the defensive.
Finally, the last knight yielded, his training sword falling to the ground. After the match, all the soldiers, knights, and lords present stared in astonishment, mouths agape. A shared thought flashed through their minds: this was not a contest between six well-trained knights, but a battle between five children and one knight. Walton's domineering presence had left a deep impression on everyone.
As the match unfolded, Walton was clearly toying with his opponent. His movements were effortless; when he casually lifted a knight and tossed him onto the others, it was as if watching a Giants play with a child. Despite his unassuming appearance, Walton's strength was not to be underestimated.
Lord Stark couldn't help but wonder if he had simply chosen an elite knight by chance. Aermir seemed to read Lord Stark's mind and spoke, his voice carrying confidence and a hint of challenge.
"Would you be willing to repeat this with another knight to prove that this is not luck, but proof of the qualities of all my men?"
Lord Stark shook his head, declaring with a sense of honor, "No, a bet is a bet. Even if I'm unlucky, the Karstark never go back on their word. In this battle, you are the commander. We Karstark, with our 300 soldiers, will obey your command."
In response, the other lords rose to their feet, placed their fists over their hearts, and answered in unison, "Yes!" Even if it was just for this battle, their voices filled the air, a resounding oath of loyalty to Aermir's command.
Under the cover of Nightfall, the people of the Three Sisters advanced towards Moon drift port. Unwilling to let anything of value slip through their fingers, they planned a multi-pronged attack. They landed on both flanks of the town, targeting the heart of Moon drift port. Their plan unfolded with precision and ruthlessness.
An army of about 3,000 men assembled at the port, while 7,000 raiding troops from the Sister Islands launched a fierce attack from two other directions, plunging the town into impending chaos. The port, which should have been bustling with ships, was deserted, but the lords of the Three Sisters paid no heed, their gaze instead fixed on the town, now filled with warehouses. Lord Sunderland licked his lips; this slumbering town was about to awaken from the Three Sisters ' brutal onslaught. At least, that's what they thought.
Triston Sunderland stood on the deck of his ship, filled with anticipation for wealth and prosperity. He came from a family of pirates, hiding beneath the guise of Vale lord. Though their reputation was fleeting, they had managed to gain some allegiance through their cooperation with the Faith of the Seven.
But this adventure, this daring raid on the prosperous North House under Aermir Drasil, was destined to change Sunderland's fate. He could almost taste the riches that awaited him. The wealth from this conquest was just the beginning, for he also planned to plunder everything Aermir Drasil possessed. The fire of ambition burned fiercely within Lord Triston, igniting his insatiable thirst for wealth and power.