Chapter 111 - The Lords of the North (III)
"Arrogant and barbaric people often only understand the language of the strongest. Only the fist matters to such people." Eddard of House Stark, watching Aenar take down the Northern Lords one by one.
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Robett was tall, with a deeply wrinkled face and gray-brown hair. He wore chain mail under a red overcoat, and his scarlet cloak was fastened with a silver brooch in the shape of a chain mail cuff. The heir to Deepwood Motte carried an impeccably silver warhammer, as well as the symbol of House Glover.
"Your Grace." Robett greeted Aenar with a rough, gruff tone.
"Lord Robett." Aenar returned the greeting.
Without exchanging any more words, they both advanced. Robett had confidence in his strength; his hammer could sink into an enemy's chest as if he were crushing a watermelon. But the moment blade and hammer collided, the heir to Deepwood Motte was violently pushed backwards.
The scene caused astonishment among the Northern Lords. It was the first time they had seen a sword surpass a hammer in terms of strength. What would it take to accomplish such a feat?
They assumed that the person would need to have the strength of a horse, but looking at Aenar's relatively strong arms and apparently slim body, they couldn't imagine how someone with that complexion could possess such strength.
"Lord Stark fed the boy giant wolf's milk?" Greatjon asked in disbelief.
"He must have. He's twelve and already so tall... he could grow even taller." Maege looked at Aenar with admiration.
Whether it was her or any other lord of the North, everyone admired the strong, and Aenar had proved to be powerful. With his earlier words, many lords had already put aside old resentments.