First Battle

The allied army began setting up camp on the first day they arrived at Dreadfort. Because the logistics wagons transported enough supplies, the allied army's tents far exceeded the scale expected for over five thousand soldiers.

This situation was reported to Roose by the Bolton garrison. However, after analyzing the intelligence from scout cavalry, he believed it was a feint by the Young Wolf Lord to deliberately increase pressure on them.

Meanwhile, the logistics troops began using the empty transport wagons after unloading their supplies. They started felling trees from the surrounding forests and busily crafted crude, primitive siege engines.

The allied army as a whole appeared to be organized, but three days passed with the logistics troops continuously transporting wood and building siege engines, without even a single probing attack being launched.

On the battlements of Dreadfort's main gate, Roose stared at the distant allied army camp, his expressionless face deep in thought.

As three days passed, the allied army's complete lack of action made him distinctly feel that something was wrong.

After consolidating the information, Roose, still without any clear ideas, meticulously considered his own troop deployment and strategic layout in his mind, searching for potential problems.

Currently, Dreadfort had 1,500 troops stationed. Of these, 1,300 elite infantry were used for defensive purposes, while 200 cavalry waited for an opportunity to raid.

Locke's forces had already gathered 3,000 local peasant infantry and 1,000 cavalry at Ironstone Town, half a day's journey from Dreadfort.

Ramsay was also en route to Dreadfort with over four hundred cavalry, serving as a backup force.

Dreadfort was easy to defend and difficult to attack. As soon as the allied army began their siege, Dreadfort would turn into a meat grinder. The current garrison was sufficient to hold off the entire allied army outside the city.

Once they suffered heavy losses and their morale plummeted, Locke's troops would launch a surprise attack from the rear.

At that point, Dreadfort would be attacked from both front and back, leaving the allied army vulnerable, and victory would surely be theirs.

Wooo!

On the morning of the fourth day, Dreadfort finally welcomed its first siege battle.

Approximately a thousand Winterfell infantry, bearing Direwolf banners and clad in worn chainmail, advanced towards Dreadfort's main gate under the protection of large wooden shields crudely made by the logistics troops.

Forming a massive rectangular phalanx, they marched heavily towards the Dreadfort gate.

Protected by their wooden shields, other infantry carried freshly made siege ladders.

Roose stood on the battlements of Dreadfort's main gate, watching the Winterfell soldiers begin their assault. He felt a sense of relief instead.

He raised his right hand and held it in mid-air. The archers on the battlements held their breath, awaiting his command.

"Fire!"

As the infantry entered their attack range, Roose waved his hand and gave the order.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!...

Hundreds of arrows, glinting coldly in the morning sun, drew beautiful yet deadly parabolas as they rained down on the Winterfell infantry phalanx.

Thud, thud, thud!...

Ah!

The arrow rain struck the wooden shields with dull thuds, like hailstones falling.

Most of the arrows were blocked by the wooden shields, but there were always a few unlucky souls who were hit by arrows through the gaps between the shields and fell to the ground, letting out heart-wrenching screams.

The Winterfell attacking phalanx could not stop for these unfortunate individuals and continued to advance resolutely forward.

Behind them, some medics, with linen cloths tied around their heads, came forward in pairs, holding long shields to provide aid.

They briefly scanned the wounded on the ground. Those beyond help were abandoned, while those who could be saved had one soldier holding a shield and the other dragging the wounded back towards the rear lines.

As the Winterfell attacking phalanx reached the front gate of Dreadfort, the wooden shield phalanx quickly parted. The infantry hidden within rapidly erected the siege ladders against the city walls.

At this moment, the House Bolton soldiers on the battlements began to hurl fist-sized stones downwards, accompanied by a barrage of arrows.

Ah! Ah!

The screams of the Winterfell soldiers were incessant. Being hit by an arrow might not be fatal, but being struck by a stone meant instant death, with brains splattering everywhere.

Some Winterfell soldiers armed with bows and arrows at the base of the wall began to counterattack. Some House Bolton soldiers, before they could even throw their stones, were hit by arrows and fell.

Seizing this opportunity, the Winterfell infantry began to climb the siege ladders.

Crash!

A Winterfell infantryman was diligently climbing a siege ladder when he suddenly heard a splashing sound from above. He instinctively looked up.

A stream of scalding oil directly covered his face.

Ah!!!

The soldier's facial skin immediately turned red and festered, covered in a dense network of blisters, with skin tissue splitting and curling.

The infantryman could no longer hold onto the ladder and fell straight down, clutching his face.

Due to the awkward landing position, his head hit the ground first. He stopped screaming and struggling, only his right foot twitching slightly. He was clearly beyond saving.

He wasn't the only Winterfell infantryman to fall. Winterfell infantrymen on various siege ladders were falling like dumplings.

With the various defensive measures employed by the Bolton garrison on the battlements, the Winterfell infantry phalanx at the base of the wall suffered over thirty percent casualties, and their morale plummeted drastically.

As one infantryman, seeing the mangled corpses of his comrades, frantically fled backward, the entire Winterfell infantry assault line began to collapse.

Wooden shields, siege ladders, and standard longswords were all discarded. These fleeing infantry only wanted to run faster.

The Bolton garrison on the battlements could not miss such an opportunity. They all redoubled their efforts to attack the fleeing enemy, wanting to secure more battle merits for themselves.

Owooo!

When the Winterfell infantry fled out of range, the Bolton garrison let out a collective cheer of celebration.

Roose watched the Winterfell infantry retreating back to their base camp, his face expressionless, lost in thought.

"Has there been a reply from Locke?"

Roose suddenly asked the attendant beside him.

"Lord Locke dispatched a reconnaissance cavalry unit to track and observe the enemy from the moment they entered the Dreadfort's territory.

The enemy's total troop strength is around five thousand one hundred, including five hundred logistical personnel. They've been logging and transporting wood from the forests near Lone Mountain daily, with no unusual activity."

The attendant, clad in chainmail, immediately replied upon hearing Roose's question.

"Along the road from Dreadfort to Ironstone Town, although there are some bare hills for cover, there are no forests, ravines, or other locations suitable for hiding a large force and setting up an ambush. Lord Locke has confirmed this repeatedly."

"Hmm, what did Ramsay say?"

Hearing the report and realizing he might have been overly cautious, Roose nodded and inquired about the bastard's situation.

"Lord Ramsay still needs at least five riding days to arrive. According to reports from his scouts, Robb Stark is meeting with nobles from various families in Winterfell daily."

"Hmm, in the end, I was just too cautious. Send a reply to Locke, telling him to prepare for battle."

After listening to the latest situation report, Roose nodded and issued his orders.

"Also, tell Ramsay to take his time returning! By the time he gets back, this war will already be over."

The attendant received the orders and hurried down from the city wall to the rookery to relay Roose's command.