"Warriors of Light..." Howard curled his lip. "Sounds like a troupe of amateur actors."
"Is it that bad?" Aldric thought about it. Yeah, kinda chuunibyou. "Then let's call it the Silver Hand."
"Why not the Golden Hand?"
Aldric jutted his chin eastward. "There's a Golden Company across the Narrow Sea. If we call ourselves the Golden Hand, people might think we're a branch of theirs. I don't want to build a reputation for someone else."
"Alright... Silver Hand. Loyal to silver, executing the will of silver. Fits a mercenary company."
Howard took out his notebook and wrote it down. "If the Golden Company wasn't so famous, I'd still suggest Golden Hand. Gold looks better than silver."
"Now, what are your requirements for recruits?"
"No slippery, lazy, gluttonous, or cunning ones. Must be brave. Other than that..." Aldric couldn't think of anything specific. "I'll trust my gut. Let's recruit eight people total first."
"Eight people. I don't think you can feed that many yet. I'll recommend five first. If you like them, I'll send more. Same place?"
"Yes," Aldric nodded. "The blacksmith's courtyard in the south."
Howard closed his notebook and tapped the cover with his wooden pen. "Referral fee: one Silver Stag per soldier. Once they join your team and fight once, you pay me."
"No problem."
Having dealt with Howard a few times, Aldric trusted his integrity. Deal done, he downed his ale and left.
Since he was treating Eddie and the others tonight, Aldric went to the market alone. He bought carrots, lettuce, five pounds of mutton, sauce, and honey, then returned to the courtyard to prep.
The blacksmith's courtyard was at the end of a secluded alley in the south of town. Usually deserted and eerie enough to suggest ghosts, today was different.
Aldric saw strangers coming in and out with complex expressions—horror, fear, satisfaction, relief.
Brother John stood on a makeshift wooden platform beside the giant spider, one hand holding his worn The Seven-Pointed Star, the other resting on a brown-haired youth's head in prayer.
Kevin and Juan stood by, maintaining order between the tourists and the spider.
Seeing his teacher return, Kevin wanted to greet him, but Aldric stopped him with a look.
Disguising himself as a bumbling tourist, Aldric wandered to the cottage door, then bolted inside.
There, he found Eddie and Conrad playing cards on his bed.
Dropping the ingredients, he asked, "You guys came early?"
Conrad played an Archer card without looking up. "Yeah. Came to help, but there's no room to stand. Had to hide in here."
"Come on, deal me in."
Aldric rubbed his hands, fished out some coppers, and joined the game. He played until sunset, when the crowd finally thinned. He shuffled his losing hand, walked into the yard, and politely asked the last tourist to leave.
Closing the gate, John collapsed on the platform, eyes unfocused. "Too many people... If it's like this every day, I can't take it."
Aldric shook the donation box, listening to the clink of coins. "How much today?"
"Haven't counted. Probably a few Silver Stags."
"Rest a bit. I'll prep food and call you."
John looked dead to the world. Kevin and Juan were exhausted too. So Aldric, Eddie, and Conrad handled the cooking.
Luckily, these two were practical men. They sliced the meat, marinated it, and grilled it over the fire. Vegetables, potatoes, and cheese went into the pot for soup.
When night fell and stars filled the sky, a simple feast of roast meat, vegetable soup, and ale began.
Though hoarse from preaching all day, Brother John perked up after an hour's rest.
Nearly seventy or eighty people had visited today. Several, frightened by the spider, voluntarily accepted John's blessing. For John, this was a massive victory.
Aldric asked, "Was that brown-haired lad I saw when I came back one of them?"
John nodded, voice raspy. "Yes. A Southerner's kid named Sears. Sadly, his father died early. He's the only child, helping his mother work, so he can't come often. From him, I learned why so few people come to our sept, and why they're so stingy."
"Why?"
"Because the most devout followers of the Seven within miles live inside the castle." John pointed at Winterfell's walls. "There's a sept inside built by Lord Eddard for Lady Catelyn. Septon Chayle, a Northman, runs it."
Aldric sympathized. "Bad luck."
John shook his head. "Not really. Those living in Winterfell don't need me. But ordinary people like Sears, who can't enter the castle sept—where do they go?"
"Living in the North with no sept, they gradually forget the Seven's teachings and become godless, or turn to the Old Gods like locals."
Realizing three locals were at the fire, he apologized. "Sorry, I didn't mean praying to weirwoods is wrong..."
Conrad shrugged, swallowing a piece of meat. "It's fine. I rarely deal with those face-carved trees anyway."
Eddie added, "Me too." He paused. "When I was young, I knelt at the heart tree with my father, praying for a peaceful life. But my parents died before I came of age. My brother died two years ago... Small people like us, praying to any god is useless. Which god cares about us?"
Then believe in the Sun God!
Kevin excitedly wanted to speak, but Aldric covered his mouth.
Faith discussions often led to arguments. Here sat a Septon, First Men descendants, and a Sun God believer. One more word and Aldric feared he'd have to step in. He changed the subject to the mercenary company.
Conrad asked immediately, "Captain, can I join your Silver Hand?"
Aldric nodded. "If you're willing, that's best."
"Of course," Eddie said. "I've wanted to join a reliable company for ages, just had no way in."
Aldric was curious. "Couldn't Howard introduce you?"
Eddie shook his head. "The North is peaceful now. Big companies can't survive and went East. Small teams are tight-knit groups of old friends. Newcomers get paid little and do the most dangerous work, so..."
Aldric looked them in the eye. "My Silver Hand is different. In the future, veterans will have some privileges but also heavier responsibilities. Rookies get paid less but carry less responsibility. Everything follows the rules. Even I cannot be above the rules. The company's decisions prioritize the collective interest."
Aldric had raided in many WoW guilds and led his own. He knew fair rules were the core of a team.
People change. Veterans leave; rookies become veterans. Teams built on personal relationships collapse when people leave.
Aldric would run this team by the book. He wouldn't hurt the group to satisfy a veteran's unreasonable demands just because they were close. That was why his guild lasted.
Could a real mercenary company run on these principles? He didn't know.
But it didn't matter. As long as he lived, as long as he wielded the Sun's power, this team would exist.
He was confident.
As for the specific rules of the Silver Hand? Aldric hadn't fleshed them out yet, so he didn't say. Eddie and the others didn't ask.
Actions spoke louder than words.
In the Wolfswood, Aldric made correct decisions, stood in the front line, took the hardest tasks, and didn't skim a copper from the pay.
Most importantly, Aldric could save lives... even if he denied it. Eddie and the others had seen it. Was there anything safer than that?
So Conrad, Eddie, and Juan became the founding members of the Silver Hand.
Now organized, they didn't all need to sit at the Wolf's Kiss. One person on duty for contact was enough; the others could handle their own affairs.
They set a rotation schedule. Satisfied with food and drink, they left. Only then did Rennel return.
Entering the yard, Rennel grabbed the leftover ale and chugged it.
"Thirsty work at the tavern? Did Mr. Andoll dock your pay?" Aldric teased.
Rennel retorted, "The story of the 'Seres Warrior Slaying the Spider' is very popular. I suggest you don't stay in the yard tomorrow, or you won't be able to leave."
Brother John looked mixed—happy for the crowd, worried about the workload. Aldric was just unhappy. They decided John would hire help for crowd control, while Aldric and Kevin would hide by the river to forge armor.
Aldric hadn't dismantled the abandoned furnace in the yard, but he couldn't use it during this craze.
So he drew the furnace structure on paper and built a new one by the river.
As the Stark seat, Winterfell's defense was a priority. To clear obstacles outside the walls, the Lords encouraged chopping vegetation for fuel. Sometimes they even paid citizens to clear saplings in summer.
At the river, Aldric and Kevin cut arm-thick trees, chopped them into logs, stacked them in a pit, covered them with wet mud, and built a charcoal kiln with air vents.
Lighting it, they judged the charcoal by smoke color: black to white to blue. When blue, they sealed the vents to carbonize the wood.
A day or two later, breaking the kiln would yield charcoal.
While waiting, Aldric built the forge and fired the crucible.
Once the charcoal was ready, they could smelt iron ingots.
Though Aldric's Smelting and Blacksmithing skills were Grandmaster level in-game, his practical experience forging iron objects was low—he mostly worked with high-end mats like Elementium or Cobalt.
Iron? He bought ingots from the Auction House to power-level past that stage.
What material to use for Kevin's armor?
Aldric thought hard. Given the primitive conditions, the best material he could make was Pattern Steel (Damascus Steel).
Pattern Steel had visible patterns on the surface—water, clouds, wood grain—giving it artistic beauty.
The patterns existed because it was a composite of steels (or irons) with different carbon contents.
Through folding and forging, these different materials fused into a composite structure while retaining their individual properties, granting superior physical performance.
In China, records of pattern steel appeared by the Eastern Han dynasty. Abroad, Damascus steel was famous.
The process was replicable with Aldric's current setup.
Step one: select steels with different carbon contents. Heat to semi-molten or red-hot. Stack and forge.
Repeated folding and hammering fused the different crystalline structures.
After prepping the billet, shape it into the desired armor parts. Then heat treat—quench, temper.
This improved strength and toughness.
Finally, grind and polish to reveal the pattern. Sometimes acid etching was used to enhance the contrast.
For Aldric, the pattern didn't matter. Saving his apprentice's life did.