Harwin moved, and immediately a dozen and a half men closed in, forming a tight ring around him.
He knew that hesitation would be fatal — trapped in such a dense encirclement, he would lose the initiative.
With a smooth, gliding step, he began circling, studying the guards, noting the fire in their eyes.
Without warning, he lunged toward the nearest foe. A simple slash, amplified by his system skill "Knockback," struck the guard.
The man barely raised his sword in time, but the force of the blow threw him to the ground, weapon clattering beside him.
Seeing their opponent's strength, the rest of the guards surged forward. Jon and Theon, however, hung back. They had just witnessed Harwin's prowess and knew engaging him directly would be suicide. Better to let the others wear him down first.
Harwin, surrounded, remained calm.
A wide horizontal swing forced the front ranks to recoil, and with a subtle sidestep, he found himself before the farthest guard.
A short lunge later, another man was down. With that, Harwin broke free of the encirclement.
He turned on the fleeing attackers, striking swiftly from behind. Two precise cuts, and two more guards crumpled. In the blink of an eye, four men lay defeated. The remaining guards froze, cautious, swords held defensively.
Harwin's measured steps pressed like a drumbeat against the hearts of those around him. Each step exuded power. Even Robb and Arya, watching from the sidelines, and Eddard and Catelyn in the gallery, clenched their fists involuntarily.
"Shields and spears!" Jon Snow's voice cut the silence.
The future Lord Commander and King in the North assessed the situation. Sword to sword, they could not defeat Harwin. Their only chance was to form a shield wall — harsh pragmatism over knightly honor.
Several guards in the back reached for shields and spears. Harwin saw the formation starting and knew he had no time to waste.
He surged forward, slicing through the front ranks.
Two or three fell, buying precious seconds for their comrades. Behind them, a small but formidable shield wall was forming, spears jutting outward.
Harwin showed no hesitation. He struck the last swordsman's weapon away, grabbed him by the collar, and lifted him like a living battering ram. Charging the shield wall, he hurled the man into it. The impact shattered their line.
Harwin seized the breach, sweeping aside shield-bearers with blows enhanced by skill. The spearmen were helpless at close range, dropping one by one under his strikes.
Only Harwin, Jon Snow, and Theon Greyjoy remained standing.
Jon, still in shock, realized Harwin had dispatched over a dozen men with terrifying ease. Neither he nor Theon would survive even moments against him.
A whistling arrow zipped toward Harwin — Theon loosed it, but Harwin easily deflected it.
Another arrow came, and again, he knocked it aside.
Seizing the moment, Jon charged, sword raised in a crushing overhead strike. Harwin met the attack effortlessly, sparks flying from clashing steel.
In a fluid motion, he twisted Jon's wrist, wrenched the sword away, and brought his practice blade to Jon's throat.
A real strike would have ended the fight instantly.
Turning to Theon, who continued firing arrows, Harwin moved with lightning speed. Theon barely managed one more shot before Harwin was beside him, slashing lightly across his face.
Theon collapsed, blood streaming, unscathed in life but humiliated.
"Amazing! Will you teach me how to wield a sword?" Arya's voice broke through the stunned silence as she ran to Harwin, eyes wide with admiration.
"I don't mind, but you'll need Lord Eddard's permission," Harwin said, smiling faintly.
He felt a quiet respect for her fire and determination — the same wolf blood that made her a true Stark. Harwin was curious if, under his guidance, she could surpass even her own potential.
"I'll ask him now!" Arya squealed, dashing toward the gallery.
Harwin bowed respectfully to Lord and Lady Stark before helping the fallen guardsmen to their feet. Soon, he was surrounded — Harris, the Stark children, guardsmen, all eager to glean even a fragment of his skill. No one wanted to miss the chance to learn from a master, alive and unmatched.
"Father! I want to learn swordsmanship from Harwin!" Arya ran to Eddard, tugging at his sleeve.
"No! Arya, you are a lady. Your place is in the tower, with the septa, learning sewing and etiquette!" Catelyn scolded sharply.
"Catelyn, he is a master of the blade. Nothing bad will come of her learning from him," Eddard said, smiling. "Just coordinate with the septa so she does not neglect her lessons."
"Thank you, Father!" Arya beamed, hugging him before sprinting to the tower like an arrow.
"You spoil her too much, Eddard," she said to her husband with displeasure.
"Catelyn, you know, I see the blood of the wolf in her. Instead of holding it back, it's better to let it go," Eddard replied, looking after his daughter. In her, he saw his sister, and that was the reason he loved Arya so much.
Catelyn just sighed and silently left.
"Jory, what do you think of his skill?" Eddard asked, returning his gaze to Harwin.
"My lord, I have never seen such swordsmanship. Perhaps only the Kingsguard could rival him," Jory admitted.
"No. Even the Royal Guard might struggle" Eddard muttered, awe in his voice.
"It seems we have called a remarkable man into service," he muttered under his breath.
---
"My lord, Lord Eddard, a raven has brought a letter from Castle Black!" the maester called, out of breath.
Eddard read the scroll, his face darkening. A lookout had escaped and been found in the foothills.
"Jory, ready the men. Bran comes with us, and Harwin will accompany you," he ordered.
"Yes, my lord," Jory replied, moving quickly.