Brother John snatched the wineskin from Ethan's hand and frantically tried to imitate his movements, squeezing out a thin stream of water that produced only a weak mist.
In desperation he took a mouthful of water and spat it out forcefully. The fine spray caught the sunlight and scattered into a small but perfect rainbow.
Faced with this undeniable and repeatable demonstration John was left speechless. He finally dropped to his knees, muttering, "The Sun God is one of the Seven? How can that be? No one ever told me…"
Seeing his friend's distress Ethan felt a pang of guilt, yet he also knew that only if John willingly accepted the Light could his kindness be turned into a greater force.
"John—" Ethan began, but was suddenly interrupted by a voice calling his name.
"Captain Ethan!"
An unfamiliar guard hurried over. "Lord Robb requests your presence."
Ethan asked, "Am I to come alone?"
The guard shook his head. "Lord Robb did not mention anyone else."
Ethan glanced around, then said to Kevin, "Kevin, help John back to rest. He doesn't look well."
"Yes, Captain."
Following the guard Ethan arrived at the command tent.
Outside, several richly dressed, arrogant-looking warriors stood on duty, yet when Ethan approached they all nodded in greeting—quite unlike their usual haughty demeanor.
It turned out that during last night's battle, when Jaime Lannister made his final desperate charge, Torren Karstark, Daelyn Hornwood, and Eddard Karstark had thrown themselves at the raging lion with suicidal courage. Two had died and one had been gravely wounded in the effort to subdue him.
If not for Ethan's timely healing even the last survivor would likely have perished. Therefore the young nobles of Robb's honor guard—sons of the great northern houses—now held Ethan in genuine respect, admiring both his strength and his selfless aid.
Inside the tent Ethan found only Robb and a middle-aged general he did not recognize.
He placed his hand over his heart and bowed. "Lord Robb."
Robb nodded. "Captain Ethan."
At that moment the tall, broad-shouldered general with shoulder-length hair and a short thick beard strode forward, opened his powerful arms and embraced Ethan, exclaiming, "Captain Ethan! Thank you for saving my son!"
The big man clapped Ethan heartily on the back. "You will forever have the friendship of House Karstark!"
"I am honored, Lord Rickard. The friendship of House Karstark is a priceless gift."
Ethan returned the earl's enthusiasm, a touch of regret in his voice. "A pity I could save only one."
Lord Rickard nodded sadly. "Ed was unlucky… one is better than none."
After the earl calmed and released him, Robb asked, "Captain Ethan—the magic you used last night… can it be used again?"
Ethan nodded. "Yes. I can now fully restore five warriors at once, though I will need some time to recover afterward."
Since the dream-like experience the previous night Ethan had felt the Light within him stronger than ever. Not only was his mana pool far larger, his recovery speed had also increased dramatically—comparable to when he had stood on the Wall. He no longer worried about running dry; even if he exhausted his mana he needed only half a day's rest before he could cast again.
Robb pondered for a moment. "Five at once? Yet when you were enveloped by that pillar of light last night everyone around you was healed."
Ethan hesitated, then explained, "I do not know why that happened. It must have been caused by the power inside me going out of control. Afterward I fainted and only woke this morning."
"A pity," Robb shook his head. "Captain, tonight we will attack the Lannister camp besieging Riverrun. I hope you will stand at my side.
After the battle I will have a tent set up for you in a safe place. You can heal my wounded there.
However, if we only seek to save lives rather than achieve full recovery at once, you should be able to treat far more men. Is that acceptable?"
"Of course. That way the warriors will have a greater chance of survival," Ethan agreed.
Robb looked satisfied. "Then please go and prepare."
After bowing Ethan turned to leave when he suddenly noticed the grey direwolf beside Robb—Grey Wind.
Grey Wind lay on the ground, one foreleg held awkwardly, looking sickly. Ethan stopped and asked with concern, "Lord Robb—is your direwolf injured?"
Robb glanced at Grey Wind, heartache flickering in his eyes. "During yesterday's battle a Lannister knight slashed Grey Wind's left foreleg. I have let him rest today and do not plan to let him join the fighting."
Hearing that, Ethan shook his head. "Animals are not as obedient as men." He took two steps closer, wanting to examine the injury. "Let me see."
Robb hesitated, then warned, "Grey Wind is very irritable right now. It would be best not to approach."
Ethan stepped forward and spoke softly, "It's all right. A clever little animal can tell friend from foe." He held out his hand. "Little pup, show me where it hurts, all right?"
Yet Grey Wind lowered his massive body, eyes gleaming with hostility, and growled at Ethan.
At that moment a faint golden halo appeared at the tip of Ethan's raised right finger. Under the warm glow the direwolf's angry growl gradually softened into a low whimper. Though he still resisted Ethan's approach he was no longer openly hostile.
Seeing the opening Ethan pressed his advantage, scooped the direwolf up by the armpits and lifted him.
Holy Light surged from his hands, covering the skin beneath the smooth fur and beginning to knit every wound. Ethan murmured, "Come on, let Uncle take a look at you. Tell me where it hurts."
The burning, itching sensation made Grey Wind wriggle uncomfortably. After struggling a few times the direwolf finally broke free, dropped to the ground, and darted behind Robb, barking at Ethan.
The startled "little fellow" Grey Wind tucked his tail between his legs and hid behind his master. His slightly clumsy appearance made Ethan burst out laughing. "What an adorable dog."
Seeing his battle companion react so unusually to Ethan, Robb was both puzzled and pleased.
Yet as Lord of the North he did not want people to think he valued his pet more than his warriors, so he said seriously, "Captain Ethan—I know summoning divine grace is not without cost. That power should have been used on my men."
Ethan shook his head easily. "It's all right. Grey Wind's paw injury was only minor. I will recover the mana I spent very quickly."
He looked at Robb, eyes carrying deeper meaning. "My student also keeps a large white dog, and I myself keep a snow-bear. Though they are only animals, since they have gone to the battlefield and fought beside us they are our comrades-in-arms and deserve this care."
Robb understood that the large white dog Ethan mentioned was Ghost—Jon Snow's direwolf. This was therefore a favor granted out of respect for Jon.
Since it was for his brother's sake Robb accepted gladly and said with feeling, "Is this the universal love taught by the Sun God? Truly impressive."
Ever since Ethan had demonstrated the power of Light by saving the dying he had known he would be unable to shake off the role of battlefield healer for a long time.
But that did not matter. Many retribution or protection paladins had begun as healers, and he was no exception.
He had once firmly believed that as long as he endured this period and gathered enough damage-dealing gear he could proudly tell others, "Sorry, I don't know how to heal."
But now it was difficult—because he did not want to watch his comrades die horribly in front of him from untreated wounds.
Still, healers could also become top-tier combatants.
Historically the predecessor of the German Empire that once dominated Central Europe—the Duchy of Prussia—traced its origins to the Teutonic Knights, originally founded in Jerusalem by mid-ranking knights of the Holy Roman Empire during the Crusades as a battlefield medical organization.
Later, when the Sunwalkers of the Silver Hand emerged in large numbers—wielding Holy Light to heal the wounded with one hand and spears to decide life and death with the other—there would be no place in the world they could not go.
Ethan had also figured something out: the best way to reduce the workload of post-battle healing was to unleash maximum power during the fight and secure victory for his side as quickly as possible.
That would not only cut casualties and workload but also let those with hidden ambitions witness Ethan's combat strength and understand he was not someone they could easily control.
After bidding Robb farewell Ethan returned to his own camp.
He knew that tonight's battle would be a cavalry raid across open ground. His few mounted infantry squads would be almost useless in such conditions.
Therefore Ethan assigned them all to guard and assist the female members of the medical team, then to act as stretcher-bearers once the fighting ended.
The cavalry scouts would continue charging into battle at his side, while the craftsman squad remained in camp guarding supplies under the protection of Ghost and Little Bell.
After breakfast Robb's army quickly formed up. Seeing the eager, combative expressions on every face Robb gave the order without hesitation: "Move out!"
Tonight's objective was to lift the siege of Riverrun. During the march Ethan gradually pieced together the tactical plan from the soldiers' whispered conversations—a night raid on the enemy camp.
Cavalry raids were a classic tactic in ancient warfare.
In the twentieth year of Jian'an during the Eastern Han, Cao Cao's general Zhang Liao led eight hundred elite riders in a surprise attack on Sun Quan's camp and nearly killed Sun Quan himself.
Such operations usually required the attacking side to send elite cavalry to infiltrate the enemy camp, silently eliminate sentries, dismantle obstacles, then storm inside—creating chaos through killing and arson, slaying the enemy general or inciting mutiny.
If the attack was not swift enough or fierce enough the enemy would quickly organize a defense, leaving the raiders trapped in a deadly situation.
Inside an enemy camp numerous obstacles and dense masses of troops made it almost impossible to use cavalry speed to advantage. Being surrounded would be catastrophic.
Therefore, once the enemy camp was thrown into chaos the raiding cavalry had to locate the enemy commander quickly, kill him, seize the standard, and withdraw at once—or ambush supporting infantry outside the camp and launch a general assault before the enemy could form an effective defense, capturing the camp in a single stroke.
Such tactics demanded unwavering courage and formidable combat power from the raiders.
Shortly after the army set out an elderly nobleman with grey hair and wearing black fish-scale armor came to bid Robb farewell, then led forty percent of his troops away from the main column on a separate route.
Another hour passed and dusk quietly fell. The army successfully crossed a wooden bridge to the south and concealed itself in a sparse grove on the south bank of the Tumblestone.
Only when full night had wrapped the land did the troops quietly turn westward.
When they could dimly see a tall city wall and the scattered fires beneath it they halted.
Not long afterward flames suddenly erupted from the enemy camp near the walls on the north bank of the Tumblestone, accompanied by the clamor of battle. At the same time the camp in front of Robb and his men also fell into chaos, yet Robb remained calm and gave no order to attack.
It was not until a panting scout rushed to Robb and reported urgently, "My lord—the enemy's western camp is trying to cross the river by raft to reinforce the northern camp!"
Only then did Robb raise his sword and shout the command: "For Winterfell! For Riverrun! Charge!"
It turned out the Westerlands army had carefully established three camps outside Riverrun, corresponding to the three sides of the city: the northern camp on the north bank of the Tumblestone, the southern camp on the south bank of the Red Fork, and the western camp between the two rivers.
The twelve thousand men were divided into three groups of only a few thousand each—giving the northern army the chance to defeat them piecemeal.
Robb's main cavalry force now surged toward the Westerlands camp like two steel torrents.
Yet even after the charge began Ethan still lagged behind the others. There was no helping it—his mount Lightning was an old horse, and age was a natural law even Holy Light could not reverse.
As the thunder of hooves drew nearer the northern army closed on the enemy camp while Ethan fell farther and farther behind Robb. In desperation he raised his hand. A golden crown appeared above Robb's head while a fist-shaped phantom formed above his own.
The crown was the effect of the paladin's exclusive buff "Blessing of Kings," which enhanced all attributes and made Robb more resilient on the battlefield. The fist was the effect of "Blessing of Strength," focused on increasing attack power.
He then patted Lightning's neck and cast Blessing of Strength on the horse as well, hoping the old charger would play a greater role at this critical moment.
Lightning, feeling a sudden surge of immense power, let out a long neigh, then lunged forward and charged bravely to the very front of the formation.
Within a few dozen heartbeats Lightning's speed reached its limit and the chaotic enemy camp lay almost within reach.
Ethan roared, "Lannisters—face me!"
He thrust his lance forward, flipping over a tent and revealing a rider still struggling into his armor. Before the man could comprehend what was happening Eddie sliced half his face away from behind with a sword.
Using his horse's momentum Ethan moved with unmatched speed, spearing every Westerlands soldier he met and knocking aside several who tried to stop him.
Although Lightning wore a breastplate specially made for him by Ethan the horse still took cuts to neck and face. Yet under Ethan's Holy Light the wounds closed almost as quickly as they opened.
Man and horse rampaged through the camp. Ethan was invincible, like a war god. Whenever he spotted enemies trying to rally he charged straight at them, taking the organizer's life with a single thrust and scattering the rest into confusion once more.
Yet the camp of several thousand men was vast and there were always pockets Ethan missed. In those corners Lannister infantry—organized by layers of officers—spontaneously put up resistance.
Encircled cavalrymen were being stabbed from their saddles by pikes and the tide began to turn against them.
Sensing this Ethan tried to draw the enemy's hatred onto himself, shouting, "You worthless curs—come face me! Come meet your death!"
His roar echoed across the camp, shaking every heart present.
Just then Riverrun—not far away—suddenly lowered the drawbridge over its moat and infantrymen wielding pikes poured out of the gates to join the fight.
This reinforcement from Riverrun became the final straw that broke the Lannister western camp.
All the Westerlands soldiers who had tried to resist threw down their weapons. Some knelt begging for mercy; others stripped off their armor and leapt into the raging rivers on either side of the camp, fleeing for their lives.
Ethan reined Lightning to a halt, his body covered in blood, looking like a demon god in the firelight. For a moment neither friend nor foe dared approach.
"Captain—" Eddie pulled his own horse closer, voice cautious. He was somewhat afraid; this was the first time he had seen Ethan so ferocious.
Realizing his face was stiff Ethan rubbed his cheek, forced a gentler expression, and asked softly, "What is it, Eddie?"
Eddie answered, "Lord Robb has ordered the cavalry to assemble and prepare to charge the enemy's southern camp."
Ethan nodded. "Very well—let's go."
With that he led his cavalry toward the Lannister southern camp, ready for the next battle.
By then the northern army had successfully handed over the battlefield to the Riverrun garrison. All northern cavalry still able to ride quickly gathered on the Riverrun side of the drawbridge to form up for the next move.
Once the men were almost all present the northern cavalry swept through the outer city of Riverrun like an unstoppable torrent and thundered toward the enemy camp south of the Red Fork.
Because of limited manpower Robb had not targeted the southern camp in the first wave. His plan had been to destroy the northern and western camps first, then combine forces to strike the southern camp together.
When the northern army reached the outskirts of the enemy's southern camp they found that the Lannister forces had already formed ranks while the northerners were busy annihilating the other two camps and were now slowly retreating westward.
By the dim moonlight Ethan judged that the enemy formation contained large numbers of spearmen and archers. Such an enemy array would be a huge challenge for cavalry.
Yet at this moment northern morale was sky-high while the enemy was in panic. Ethan knew that although cavalry would struggle to gain an advantage against such a formation, victory was still possible if they were willing to pay the price.
Just as everyone had completed their formation and prepared to swing around the enemy's flank the sound of fighting suddenly erupted from within the Westerlands ranks.
Robb, with his keen battlefield instinct, seized the opportunity at once and ordered a full-scale charge. This sudden onslaught swept through the Westerlands lines like a storm, shattering them like fragile porcelain.
As the sounds of battle died away the northern army had secured victory. Stepping over the corpses of the Westerlands soldiers Robb raised his sword and shouted, "Victory!"
The northern soldiers answered with a thunderous cheer.
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