But the truth was, Jon Stark seemed to be having the time of his life. He moved faster than they could react, and his sword sliced through wood, bone, and steel like a hot knife through butter. Unbothered by armour and numbers, he danced between his enemies while his sword sang a macabre tune with the lives of his foes. Every heartbeat, more and more lives fell to his wicked bronze blade, and soon the men refused to go forth to their deaths. But they had little choice, as those behind them were blindly pushing forward on the orders of the Hand.