Wyman Manderly
Eddard Stark had been pretty unknown throughout The North before the war. The Northern Lords had only known that he was called the Quiet Wolf, that he was exactly opposite to the eldest son of Lord Rickard Stark, and that he was fostered in the Vale. That was it, not much else was known, and since he was the second son, the lords had not bothered learning about him all that much.
Given his circumstances, the situation he had been thrust in, he had performed adequately. He was grim but approachable. He was not talkative but was a good listener. He was not an outstanding swordsman, but he was better than most given his extensive training. He had commanded the troops adequately, had a good grasp of tactics and strategy, was organized and level-headed. He could easily observe the gaps in the education though, the political naivety, the inability to understand subtle messages, the lack of ruthlessness required by the ruler of The North, the false expectation that folks would behave honorably. Overall, he felt that Eddard would be an adequate leader, not a great one; and if the Gods were unkind, he would not even be a good one. He felt that Eddard would do okay, get by based on his name and the legacy and loyalty left by the previous Starks.
At least those were his initial thoughts, and he was pretty sure they would not change since Jon Connington and the majority of the Royal Army had been allowed to escape after the battle at Stoney Sept. But something had changed after that battle. With the injuries to Robert Baratheon and Lord Tully, Denys Arryn's death at the hands of Jon Connington, and the age of Lord Jon Arryn, Eddard Stark had pretty much become the commander leading the troops from the front, and he did it admirably. Every time the scouts brought in information, he was the one to decide on the troops to marshall against the remaining pockets of the retreating Royal Army, and he invariably was a part of these skirmishes. Each time, he took different lords with him and different men, ensuring a good mix of men from the North, the Vale, the Riverlands, and the Stormlands, also ensuring that the men for each foray were well-rested and fresh. And each time he heard the same conclusion about his lord, Stark was ruthless. If the fleeing men hid in a village, the villagers were given the option of giving them up or facing fire; most gave up the men. If men were captured and did not have information or gold for ransom, they were given a choice of Northern justice or the Wall. Each time the men came back from a skirmish, he could see the respect for Eddard Stark in their eyes and hear it in their talk.
His speech about capturing Rhaegar, without limbs if needed, was another glimpse at his ruthlessness, something he was sure had been noticed by all the Northern lords. And the battle of the Trident was a revelation. Three things stood out for him; the birth of the battle commander, the ruthlessness in crushing the Royal Army, and finally, the so-called wolfsblood of the Starks. And he was in the perfect position to observe the carnage wrought by his lord, the Northern army, and their allies.
Rhaegar's mistakes had helped wonderfully, of course, but Eddard Stark had shown no mercy; each mistake had been punished severely and immediately. It was the first time the lord had managed to inspire their whole army; even the taciturn Roose seemed impressed. It was the first time the whole army fought as one under his leadership, not under the leadership of their respective commanders. All the skirmishes and the respect he had earned during them helped his lord immensely during the battle. And it was the first time that Eddard Stark had relentlessly killed his enemies when the stakes were high, even pursuing the fleeing ones while keeping tight control over his troops. It was the first time the Valyrian steel in his hand had swung so ferociously. He was sure that his lord had won the respect of the entire kingdoms in this battle, both friends and foes. He was sure the Northmen would sing the praises of Eddard Stark's wolfsblood for years to come, given the number of lives he had saved during the battle.
It had also brought him to an obvious and very relieving conclusion; Eddard Stark was learning from his mistakes. If he was willing and able to learn, then White Harbor would offer all possible help. And if he was able to learn politics as quickly as he seemed to learn war, his lord would make a great leader yet, perhaps even an outstanding one, not just an adequate one as he had feared. That day, he decided that as long as the Quiet Wolf displayed these qualities, he was a worthy leader to follow.