Training the personal guard was Robb's most urgent task at the moment. Don't be fooled by the fact that this soon-to-be-born unit numbered only three hundred men—every single one of them was a fully armored cavalryman, carefully selected from the various noble houses.
As long as cavalry could build momentum and spirit, a single charge was enough to shatter the enemy's morale. These three hundred men could chase down and slaughter tens of thousands of ordinary infantry.
Armored cavalry, in this era, were an almost unsolvable killing weapon.
"Anyone shorter than the horse's neck—out. Anyone who can't lift this stone—out. Anyone who can't ride a horse around Karhold Bay for one full lap—out. Too old—out. Anyone trying to cut corners—out…"
As the army advanced, nobles along the route continued to join them. Robb's forces had grown from fifteen thousand at departure to eighteen thousand. There were around three thousand cavalrymen in total. Selecting one out of every ten left plenty of room to choose, so the standards were naturally very high.
Even so, the combat strength of soldiers from the North was generally above average. Despite Robb's harsh requirements, two hundred and ninety-four cavalrymen ultimately met the standards and were successfully selected.
Greatjon's son, Smalljon, two sons from House Karstark, and one son from House Cerwyn were all among them.
There was no shady business here. Robb strictly followed the rules in selecting every member of the personal guard. But noble-born sons had grown up well-fed and well-clothed, their bodies naturally stronger than those of common farmers' children. On top of that, most of their fathers had participated in the campaign against the Mad King and had begun training their sons from a young age.
Robb's requirements were simply daily routine to them. Passing was effortless.
On the training ground, two hundred and ninety-four cavalrymen stood neatly arranged in a square formation. Most of them were sturdy young men in their twenties or thirties, each holding a long spear. The spearheads glimmered with a cold sheen under the sunlight. Their armor varied—some new, some old—but all of it was solid and reliable.
What truly set them apart from ordinary craftsmen or farmhands was their eyes—firm, sharp gazes filled with loyalty, honor, greed, and ruthlessness. This was a unit with tremendous combat potential.
Robb, clad in brown leather armor, rode his horse along the front of the formation, inspecting them. He nodded in satisfaction. This was the unit he needed—but they were still missing something. And what he had to do was supply that missing piece.
"Back then, the ancestor of House Targaryen, Aegon, rode three giant dragons from another continent to Westeros," Robb said, recounting the history of the continent. "He swept across the land and conquered the other kingdoms, eventually unifying it. In that process, six of the original Seven Kingdoms either surrendered or were roasted into barbecue by dragonfire."
He paused, then continued, "But only the southernmost Kingdom of Dorne—their lords and their people—when facing such a powerful enemy, neither fought blindly nor surrendered. When the dragons came, they hid underground. When the dragons left, they took up arms again under their lord's command."
"In the end, they were the only kingdom not conquered by House Targaryen! Instead, they joined the realm through marriage—on relatively equal terms—and became a principality."
"They are warriors. Not because of anything else, but because when facing a strong enemy, they had the courage to draw their swords—and absolute trust in their lord!"
"I hope you can become warriors like them as well. As my personal guard, you must possess courage beyond ordinary men, and complete trust in me. If you can do that, then I—Robb Stark, son of the North—swear here that I will never betray your loyalty. You will receive the rewards you deserve."
At that moment, Theon, whom Robb had arranged within the personal guard, shouted loudly, "For the North—loyalty!"
Led by Theon, the rest of the guards were infected by the atmosphere and began shouting as well. At first it was scattered, but gradually it merged together, forming a unique and powerful momentum.
"Loyalty!!"
"Loyalty!!"
"Loyalty!!"
The soldiers roared three times in unison, each shout louder and more orderly than the last. The final roar shook the heavens, echoing so far that the entire Karhold Bay could clearly hear the soldiers' cries.
Of course, this was only the heat of the moment. Everyone was a bit fired up. If you really expected most of these people to offer true loyalty right now, even the dogs by the roadside would probably stick their asses out and take a dump to show how impossible that was.
Robb waved his hand, signaling his men to bring out a sack.
Hearing the clattering sound of metal colliding inside, some of the poorer knights instantly widened their eyes. That sound—there was no way they could mistake it!
Gold dragons!
A whole sack of gold dragons!
Robb reached into the bag and grabbed a handful at random. More than a dozen gold dragons glittered in his palm, with several slipping through his fingers and falling back into the sack, producing the most beautiful sound in the world.
Gulp.
Quite a few cavalrymen swallowed hard. Just that handful in Robb's hand was enough for a soldier to buy a good horse, have a top-quality set of armor forged by a blacksmith, visit the most expensive girl—and still live the rest of his life without worrying about food or drink!
Money truly stirred the human heart. That saying was absolutely correct.
Seeing their expressions, Robb smiled and said, "That's right. Just as you're thinking—the money in this sack belongs to you."
The soldiers below felt their breathing stop and their hearts race. Wasn't this lord a bit too generous? How long would it even take to spend so much money?
"But—" Robb loosened his grip and let all the gold dragons in his hand fall back into the sack. "If you want this money, you'll have to pay a price. Just as I said earlier—you must trust me, and during the upcoming recruit training, obey orders completely."
"My lord, do you mean this little bit of money is enough for us to sell our lives to you?" one knight asked, gathering his courage.
"Of course not," Robb shook his head. "This money is your pay. Take one gold dragon from me, and you work for me for one month. During that month, my military orders are absolute. If you violate them, I will cut off your head. Of course, once that month is over, if you still want gold dragons, you may stay. If you want to leave, I won't stop you."
"I've made myself very clear. If you're unwilling and want to leave right now, there are silver stags in another sack. Take one, and you can go."
Hearing this, many of the cavalrymen felt reassured. Even those who betrayed Young Lord Robb were given a silver stag—if they followed him properly, how could they possibly be treated unfairly?
Back when Robb was still at Winterfell, he had already established a series of military laws and set up a military police unit to oversee their enforcement. Maege and Robb had personally ordered the execution of quite a few people according to the law. Yet everyone accepted it, because Robb and his military police always upheld four words:
Impartial and selfless.
The lord's actions were plain for all to see. What kind of lord Robb was—everyone had their own judgment in their hearts.
They believed Robb was someone worth following.
Some of the hedge knights didn't really care about Robb's character. They only cared about money. They came to war for gold, and before any fighting had even started, the gold dragons were already in hand. This lord was generous—very generous.
As for the other noble-born sons, they didn't care about money, nor about whether Robb was fair. What they needed was Robb's friendship. Not a single one of them even considered leaving.
In the end, only four people with lingering doubts took the silver stags and slunk away under the scornful gazes of the others. The remaining two hundred and ninety men chose to stay—by Robb's side.
Robb looked at them, feeling a surge of emotion. He grabbed another handful of gold dragons from the sack and tossed them into the sky, letting a rain of gold fall upon every soldier.
"From today onward," Robb declared, "you will be called the Wolf Cavalry."
(End of Chapter)