"The Light Warriors…" Howard curled his lip. "That name sounds like a makeshift outfit."
"Isn't it nice?" Ethan thought for a moment and realized it did carry a bit of adolescent flair, so he changed his mind. "Then let's call it the Silver Hand."
"Why not the Golden Hand?"
Ethan gestured vaguely eastward. "Isn't there a Golden Company across the Narrow Sea? If we call ourselves the Golden Hand, people might think we're some branch of theirs. I don't want to be a stepping stone for another group."
"Fair enough… The Silver Hand—swearing loyalty to silver and carrying out silver's will—actually suits a mercenary company quite well."
Howard pulled out his notebook and jotted down the name. "If the Golden Company weren't so infamous, I'd still push for Golden Hand. Gold simply looks better than silver."
He tapped the cover with his wooden pen. "What are your requirements for the new recruits this time?"
"No lazy, gluttonous, or scheming types. They need to be brave. As for the rest…" Ethan couldn't think of anything else on the spot, so he shrugged. "We'll see how they feel in person. Let's start with eight people."
"Eight? I don't think you can manage that many yet. I'll recommend five to begin with. If they work out, I'll send more. Same place as before?"
"Yes," Ethan nodded. "Still the blacksmith's courtyard south of town."
Howard closed the notebook. "Referral fee: one silver stag per warrior. Once they join your crew and fight in one battle, you pay me—no excuses."
"No problem."
Having dealt with Howard several times, Ethan trusted the man's character. After settling the deal he drained his barley wine in a few quick gulps, said goodbye, and left.
Since he had promised to treat Eddie, Conrad, and Juan to dinner that evening, Ethan went alone to the market district. He bought carrots, lettuce, and other vegetables, five pounds of mutton, plus some sauce and honey, then returned to the courtyard to prepare the feast.
The blacksmith's courtyard sat at the end of a quiet, secluded alley in the southern part of town. The lane usually felt deserted and carried an eerie atmosphere—hard to believe no one had ever died there.
But today was different. The moment Ethan stepped outside the gate he saw dozens of strangers coming and going, their faces a mixture of horror, fear, satisfaction, and relief.
Brother John stood on a makeshift wooden platform beside the giant spider, one hand clutching an old copy of *The Seven-Pointed Star*, the other resting on the head of a brown-haired boy in prayer.
Kevin and Juan stood nearby keeping order between the curious visitors and the corpse.
When Kevin saw his teacher return he started to wave—but Ethan stopped him with a quick look from a distance.
Ethan disguised himself as an awkward tourist, strolled casually to the door of the small house, then suddenly flung it open and darted inside.
He found Eddie and Conrad playing cards on his bed.
Dropping the ingredients on the floor he asked: "You two came early?"
Conrad tossed an archer card without looking up. "Yeah—we came to help, but there wasn't even room to stand, so we hid in here."
"Come on—deal me in."
Ethan rubbed his hands, pulled out a handful of coppers, and joined the game. They played straight through until the sun stood high, but the game showed no sign of stopping. Finally Ethan had to shuffle his losing hand, walk out into the courtyard, and politely ask the last lingering visitor to leave.
Once the gate was closed and locked Brother John slumped onto the wooden platform muttering wearily: "This is too much… If this many people show up every day I won't survive."
Ethan shook the donation box beside him, listening to the clink of coins. "How much did we take in today?"
"Haven't counted yet—maybe a few silver stags."
"You lot rest first. I'll prepare the food and call you when it's ready."
Brother John looked utterly drained. Kevin and Juan were also exhausted. So Ethan ended up helping Eddie and Conrad with the cooking.
Fortunately the two were competent in the kitchen and often prepared meals. Before long they had sliced the mutton coated it in sauce and set it to roast over the campfire. They chopped vegetables and added them to a pot with potato cubes and cheese to make soup.
When full night fell and stars filled the sky a simple but hearty feast of roast mutton vegetable-cheese soup and ale was laid out.
Though his voice was hoarse from preaching all day Brother John regained his energy after a short rest.
Throughout the day roughly seventy or eighty people had come to view the giant spider's remains. Several—after being frightened by its grotesque appearance—had voluntarily accepted Brother John's blessing. For John this was a tremendous victory.
Ethan asked: "Was that the brown-haired boy I saw when I came back?"
John nodded hoarsely: "Yes—he's another southerner's son. Name's Hills.
It's a pity his father died young and he's an only child. He has to help his mother with chores and can't come often.
From him I also learned why so few people visit our sept to pray—and why they're so stingy with offerings."
"Why?"
"Because the most devout followers of the Seven within dozens of miles of Winterfell all live inside the city." John pointed toward the towering walls of Winterfell. "There's a proper sept inside built by Lord Eddard for his wife Lady Catelyn. It's overseen by Septon Chayle—a northerner."
Ethan said regretfully: "You really drew the short straw."
Brother John shook his head. "Not at all. Those who can live inside Winterfell don't need to come here.
But what about ordinary folk who can't enter the city sept—like Hills? Where can they pray?
Living in the North without a temple they gradually forget the teachings of the Seven—becoming unbelievers or—like the locals—turning to the Old Gods."
Noticing the three northerners around the fire he added apologetically: "Sorry—I didn't mean we shouldn't pray at the heart tree…"
Conrad shrugged swallowing a piece of roast mutton. "It's fine. I rarely bother with those weirwood trees with faces carved in them anyway."
Eddie agreed: "Same here." He paused then continued: "When I was small I used to kneel with my father at the heart tree and pray.
I prayed our family could live in peace—but my parents still died before I came of age and my brother passed a couple years back…
Guess praying doesn't do much good for small folk like us. What god would bother noticing?"
"Then worship the Sun God!" Kevin burst out excitedly—only for his teacher to quickly cover his mouth.
Faith discussions easily turned into arguments—especially among this group: a monk of the Seven descendants of the First Men and a follower of An'she.
If they kept talking Ethan worried he'd get dragged in too—so he changed the subject and explained his plan to recruit more members and form a proper mercenary company.
After listening Conrad immediately asked: "Captain—can I join your Silver Hand?"
Ethan nodded. "If you're willing that would be excellent."
"Of course I'm willing," Eddie added. "I've wanted to join a reliable company for a long time but never had the connections."
Ethan was curious. "Can't you just ask Howard to introduce you?"
Eddie shook his head. "The North is too peaceful right now—no war. The big companies can't survive here; they've all crossed the Narrow Sea. The small outfits are all familiar faces. If a newcomer barges in they won't get much coin—and they'll be assigned the most dangerous jobs. So…"
Ethan scanned the faces around the fire and spoke firmly:
"My Silver Hand will be different.
In the future veteran members will have certain privileges—but they will also carry heavier responsibilities.
Newcomers will receive less—but their duties will be lighter.
Everything will be governed by clear rules.
Even I won't be allowed to break them.
Every decision will put the overall interests of the company first."
Ethan had led and founded multiple guilds in *World of Warcraft*. He knew well that only fair and transparent rules could hold a group together long-term.
People's hearts are fickle. Veterans leave. Newcomers age.
A team built on personal loyalty collapses the moment those people depart.
Ethan maintained his guilds by strictly enforcing rules—never sacrificing group interests to satisfy unreasonable demands from longtime friends. As a result member turnover happened but the organization endured.
Whether a real mercenary company could operate on the same principles Ethan hadn't tested and didn't yet know.
But it didn't matter.
As long as he lived—and the power of the sun remained available—this company would continue to exist.
Ethan was confident of that.
Still—what other rules would the Silver Hand need?
He hadn't worked them out yet so he said nothing. Eddie and the others didn't ask.
Actions speak louder than words.
In the Wolfswood battles Ethan had always made correct decisions always stood at the forefront always taken the hardest tasks and never deducted a single copper when dividing spoils.
Most importantly—he could save lives.
Though the captain said he wouldn't admit it Eddie and the others had witnessed it with their own eyes. What could be more reassuring than that?
Thus Conrad Eddie and Juan became the founding members of the Silver Hand.
With the team formed they no longer needed to sit idle at the Wolf's Kiss every day. One person could stay there to handle messages while the others went about their own tasks.
After agreeing on a shift rotation at the Wolf's Kiss everyone ate drank their fill and departed—until Lennar returned from the tavern.
The moment he stepped into the courtyard Lennar seized the leftover wine from Ethan and the others and began drinking deeply.
Seeing him like this Ethan teased: "What's wrong? Working at the tavern and still this thirsty? Did Andor dock your pay?"
Lennar retorted: "The tale of the Seris warrior slaying the spider is extremely popular. I suggest you don't stay in the courtyard tomorrow—or you might not be able to get out."
Brother John's face showed a mixture of joy and worry while Ethan's remained completely expressionless.
The two quickly conferred and decided Brother John would hire someone to maintain order while Ethan and Kevin hid near the river by the courtyard to forge armor.
Ethan hadn't dismantled the abandoned forge in the courtyard—but unfortunately he wouldn't get a chance to use it until the current excitement died down.
So he sketched the forge's structure on paper and built a new one beside the river.
As the political heart of House Stark Winterfell's defenses had always been a priority for every King in the North.
To keep the area clear successive lords had encouraged residents to cut surrounding vegetation for fuel.
During warmer summer months the lords even funded public workdays in which citizens felled young saplings around the city.
Upon reaching the river Ethan and Kevin selected short straight trees about as thick as an arm chopped them into half-man-height logs piled them in a freshly dug pit covered and sealed the pile with wet clay then opened air vents to create a charcoal kiln.
After lighting the fire the smoke color showed whether the burn was progressing properly: black → white → bluish-green. At that stage the vents were sealed allowing the wood inside to fully carbonize.
One to two days later the kiln could be broken open to yield finished charcoal.
While waiting for the charcoal Ethan simultaneously finished building the forge and preparing the crucible.
Once the charcoal was ready iron smelting could begin immediately.
Although Ethan's smelting and forging skills were already at master level he still lacked much practical experience working with ordinary iron—after all the ingots he used most often were high-end materials like source ingots and cobalt-blue ingots.
Iron ingots—he had only bought them at the auction house to meet upgrade requirements and hadn't touched them since.
What material could he use to forge Kevin's armor without worry?
Ethan pondered for a long time and concluded that under current primitive conditions the best option available was pattern-welded steel.
Pattern-welded steel refers to steel with distinctive surface patterns—flowing water colorful clouds chrysanthemums wood grain—giving the metal a unique artistic appearance.
The patterns form because the steel is usually composed of two or more different types (or carbon contents) of iron/steel.
During forging these different materials are repeatedly folded hammered and welded together creating a composite structure that retains the individual properties of each layer while forming a new unified material with superior overall characteristics.
As an ancient and sophisticated metalworking technique on Earth pattern-welded steel has documented history in China dating back no later than the Eastern Han Dynasty.
Abroad the most famous examples are Middle Eastern Damascus steel blades—and Ethan could easily replicate their production process with the resources currently at hand.
The first step in making pattern-welded steel is selecting steels of different carbon contents as raw material. The chosen pieces are heated to a semi-molten or bright-red state then shaped through stacking hot-forging and other methods.
During this process the steel is repeatedly folded and hammered fusing crystalline grains of different sizes together into a distinctive layered composite structure.
After the billet is prepared it undergoes further shaping according to the desired final form followed by quenching and tempering.
These heat treatments refine the internal structure increasing strength and toughness while also stabilizing and enhancing the pattern.
Finally the piece is ground and polished to a mirror finish making the pattern clearly visible.
Sometimes acid etching is used during polishing to reveal the pattern more sharply.
For Ethan however the pattern itself was unimportant.
Saving his apprentice's life was all that mattered.
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