Ever since transmigrating into Garon's body half a year ago, Garon had not dared relax for even a single mont in the face of the looming crisis threatening the destruction of House Glover.
Besides proposing a marriage alliance with House Stark, he had also gathered the young n of House Glover between the ages of fifteen and twenty, along with the eldest sons of the four great forest clans, forming a hundred-man unit known as the Steel Fist.
Using military theories and organizational knowledge carried over from his previous life, Garon personally trained this group, hoping to forge them into the officer corps of his future army.
However, after half a year of effort, even Garon himself had to admit one painful truth.
He had truly disgraced the reputation of transmigrators.
When other transmigrators crossed into new worlds, they rapidly turned all the military knowledge and strategic concepts in their minds into genuine practical experience.
They raised elite armies with terrifying combat strength as easily as playing a ga.
Weak defeating strong, crushing enemies with overwhelming force, creating legends one after another.
Yet after transmigrating here, forget building so invincible army capable of sweeping across Westeros.
Even training these current hundred n had exhausted him ntally and physically.
For half a year, Garon constantly experinted, explored, corrected, and personally guided their training.
And the only result he had truly managed to achieve was one thing.
Strict obedience.
Even then, less than half a month after he left Deepwood Motte, this group had already begun slacking off, to the point where they could barely even assemble properly for morning drills.
"With people like this, how am I supposed to sweep across the Seven Kingdoms?"
Garon sighed inwardly.
He silently descended the hillside, passed through the square wooden watchtower, and stopped before the crooked formation gathered below.
Laurence had already quietly returned to the ranks.
Jon, who still did not fully understand the situation, did not dare speak carelessly and simply followed behind Garon together with Ghost.
The mont the mbers of the Steel Fist noticed the unfamiliar Jon and the rapidly growing direwolf beside him, the formation imdiately beca restless.
Garon's gaze instantly turned colder.
His eyes swept over the loose shoulders hidden beneath leather armor embroidered with the Steel Fist insignia, and cold anger surged within his chest.
"Split into two lines!"
His voice was not particularly loud, yet it resembled an invisible whip snapping across the training ground, instantly shattering all remaining laziness.
The field imdiately beca chaotic like water disturbed by a thrown stone.
People pushed one another, hurriedly searching for their positions while muttering excuses and complaints under their breaths.
Only after a long mont did they finally form two crooked lines.
"I am very disappointed."
Standing between the two lines, Garon spoke calmly.
"I provide you with the best food, the best training grounds, and exempt you from all miscellaneous labor."
"And even more than that…"
His icy gaze swept across every face present.
"I shared my own honor with all of you so that you could dedicate yourselves entirely to training."
"But how have you repaid ?"
The entire formation fell silent.
Everyone lowered their heads and avoided eting Garon's eyes.
Garon slowly walked toward the front row and stopped before the black-haired youth standing at the head of the left formation.
"Ron Glover."
His voice was steady and clear.
"Tell , what is the emblem on your chest?"
"It… it's the emblem of House Glover."
Ron's face flushed red while his voice trembled slightly.
"The emblem of House Glover?"
Garon suddenly raised his voice, and his gaze swept over every young face carrying traces of laziness and exhaustion.
"Look at yourselves now!"
"Your formation is scattered like loose sand. Your eyes hold no spirit whatsoever, only the sluggishness of n who haven't fully awakened from sleep!"
His voice contained not rely anger but deep disappointnt, and that disappointnt cut into the hearts of these proud youths far more painfully than rage ever could.
"I treated all of you as the future."
"I cultivated you with everything I possessed because I hoped you would beco the true swords and shields of the North!"
"I even shared the glory of House Glover with you, allowing you to wear the family emblem upon your chests."
"And this is how you repay ?"
Garon's furious voice thundered across the North Bailey training grounds.
"I've only been gone for less than half a month, and already you have indulged yourselves to this extent."
"Tell ."
"What right do you still have to wear my family's emblem?"
"Answer !"
"Are you worthy?!"
Ron's entire body trembled violently.
His previous laziness had long vanished, replaced entirely by heavy breathing and panic.
Sweat continuously rolled down his cheeks, yet he did not dare argue.
He rely lowered his head and whispered painfully.
"No… not worthy…"
"Since you are not worthy…"
Garon's voice instantly beca ice cold.
"Then remove it yourselves."
"Now."
"Imdiately."
The order struck like thunder.
Everyone within the formation looked toward Garon in panic.
Only half a year earlier, being selected for the Steel Fist and receiving permission to wear the Glover emblem had been their greatest pride.
And now they were being ordered to tear it away with their own hands.
This was equivalent to stripping away their honor entirely.
Everyone looked toward Garon pleadingly, hoping he might change his mind.
But Garon's gaze remained as cold as winter frost as he looked over them one by one.
"I said now."
"Tear it off!"
Ron's eyes instantly reddened.
His trembling fingers slowly reached toward the emblem sewn onto his chest.
Finally, he shut his eyes tightly and violently ripped the insignia free.
Rip—
The sound of tearing cloth imdiately echoed across the entire training ground like a blade carving through flesh.
"Rember this."
Garon remained unmoved.
He pointed toward the torn mark left upon Ron's chest and said coldly,
"You tore this away yourselves."
"This is the mark you personally branded upon yourselves."
"This disgrace is not punishnt from ."
"It is the result of your own laziness and indulgence."
"It will remain carved into your chests and etched into your souls forever."
"Rember this tear."
"Rember this burning pain."
Suddenly, Garon turned and pointed toward the muddy trenches surrounding the training grounds outside the fortress walls.
Those trenches were normally where the lowest servants were punished.
"Now, all of you!"
"Twenty laps!"
"With your own feet and your own filthy bodies, go asure the price of your indolence!"
"Rember this well."
"This is not training."
"This is atonent!"
"Anyone who stops midway will forever lose the right to wear the emblem of House Glover and will return to your fathers wearing those torn clothes while personally explaining the reason why!"
The hundred youths imdiately surged forward and began running desperately.
"Jon."
"Since you have beco my squire, then you will run with them as well."
"Share life and death."
"Share honor and disgrace."
Garon's cold gaze landed upon Jon as he issued the command that instantly stunned him.
Yet after only a brief mont of hesitation, an inexplicable tremor surged within Jon's chest.
Without the slightest complaint, he imdiately joined the others.
The entire group began running frantically around the trenches outside Deepwood Motte.
Everyone gritted their teeth and charged toward that barren muddy ground symbolizing humiliation.
When soone stumbled, they struggled back to their feet and continued running.
Lap after lap.
Until the pain of their shattered honor fused together with the agony of their exhausted bodies.
By the ti the final figure, Ron, nearly crawled back toward the training grounds, the entire hundred-man company looked like broken survivors who had just crawled back from hell itself.
Even so, they still forced themselves to stand upright and quickly reform their lines before Garon.
Jon stood among them as well.
Garon stood tall before the exhausted formation.
After enduring punishnt, their lines were now over a hundred tis more orderly than before.
Throughout the entire training ground, only the sound of heavy breathing could be heard.
Garon slowly looked over every single person present.
Then suddenly, he brought his feet together, clenched his left fist behind his back, and slamd his right fist heavily against his chest directly above his heart.
"Blood Forged Deep Roots!"
Instantly, every mber of the Steel Fist copied the sa movent and roared together in unison.
"Blood Forged Deep Roots!"
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