The Heavy Cavalry's Charge

A Winterfell siege infantryman had luckily evaded the Bolton defenders' attacks and was about to climb over the walls of Dreadfort using a siege ladder.

As soon as he poked his head over the wall, he saw a Bolton defender holding a rock. They stared at each other in surprise, then immediately reacted.

The Winterfell infantryman's longsword pierced the Bolton defender's chest, while the defender's rock came crashing down on the other man's face.

The brave Winterfell infantryman screamed as he fell, but while no one had yet filled the gap in the defense, the next Winterfell soldier scrambled up onto the wall.

A third, a fourth...

A small band of Winterfell infantrymen gradually gained a foothold on this stretch of wall and began a brutal close-quarters fight with the Bolton defenders.

"Go!"

Roose, standing by the stone staircase at the rear of the wall, spotted the gap at once.

He waved to the Bolton soldiers lined up on the stone staircase, and they charged fiercely at the Winterfell infantrymen who had climbed onto the wall.

Sticky blood wound its way across the stone paving. Severed limbs, bones jutting out at odd angles, littered the ground. This gap in the wall was like a crowded slaughterhouse.

Winterfell soldiers kept surging up, while Bolton defenders lined the stairs along the inner wall, ready to fill any gaps.

"I haven't seen Rickard's cavalry from beginning to end, but those few hundred horsemen won't change anything."

Even though the gap in the wall had yet to be filled, Roose remained calm. After reaching a decision, he gave the counterattack order to the attendant beside him.

"Tell Locke to begin the attack! Have the cavalry inside the city ready to charge, too."

A kilometer from the battlefield, in a hilly area, the troops under Locke had been ready and waiting. As soon as they received Roose's order, they quickly advanced toward the rear of the allied army's camp.

As one of Roose's trusted subordinates, Locke was also an experienced commander.

He had carefully laid out how his troops would attack.

Once they were within range, five hundred knights clad in armor like iron barrels would charge straight ahead.

With their tremendous impact and excellent defenses, a single charge would be enough to punch through the allied army's formation.

The other five hundred Bolton light cavalrymen were split into two groups and would circle around both flanks. Once the heavy cavalry punched through the formation, they would cut through it like blades.

The remaining three thousand infantrymen would encircle the routed soldiers whose formation had been broken and who were fleeing in all directions.

Clip-clop, clip-clop!

As the thousand cavalrymen in Locke's force advanced, the thunderous sound of hooves reached the allied army's camp.

But when the soldiers guarding the camp saw the densely packed Bolton reinforcements in the distance, they didn't panic at all.

Toot! Toot! Toot!

At the sound of three consecutive blasts of a signal horn, the tents in the rear half of the allied army's grid-shaped camp were pulled open, and a dense mass of Winterfell soldiers poured out.

At the same time, the supply wagons lined up at the end of the grid were pulled aside. Soldiers quickly set the Hua Country-style chevaux-de-frise—hastily built just recently—down in front of them.

The chevaux-de-frise were made of two rows of wooden poles crossed and fixed into X-shaped frames, with various sharp iron spikes set into them.

Once the defenses were in place, the soldiers, clad in chainmail bearing the Direwolf sigil, quickly and methodically formed ranks into the most common defensive formation.

The first rank of pikemen stood atop the supply wagons, holding their weapons level. Their iron pikes gleamed coldly in the sunlight.

The second rank rested their iron spearheads against the chevaux-de-frise, with the butts braced against the ground. Their weapons angled through the gaps in the barriers, pointing at the Bolton reinforcements as they began to charge.

From the walls of Dreadfort, Roose immediately spotted the Winterfell soldiers who had suddenly appeared in the allied army's camp.

He didn't know how these soldiers had evaded the scout cavalry and hidden among the tents, but he was certain his family's heavy cavalry could trample their defensive formation to pieces.

Still, for the first time, he felt a flicker of panic as the battle slipped beyond his control.

Locke couldn't see what was happening inside the allied army's camp. All he saw was that the enemy had put up some obstacles ahead.

In his eyes, even those wooden stakes would be smashed to splinters under the heavy cavalry's charge.

Besides, the situation didn't allow him to stop and examine the enemy closely.

Once they were within range, the heavy cavalry began to pick up speed. The light cavalry on both flanks also started circling around, preparing to attack the enemy's wings.

The infantry behind them raised their swords and began to charge as well. But compared with the cavalry, they were far too slow, and their formation had already warped out of shape from the moment they set off.

"Pikemen, hold formation! Archers, move to the left flank. Draw your bows and aim for the enemy cavalry on the left!"

At the rear of the Winterfell formation, Theon, fully armed, was visibly excited as he directed his troops to adjust their formation. This was the first time he had commanded an army of more than a thousand men.

"Theon, you forgot to send the signal!"

Owen, standing beside him, reminded him with an impassive expression.

"Haha, Owen, good thing you reminded me."

As a plume of black smoke rose from the camp, the battle at the rear of the allied army had begun.

Rumble!

The five hundred heavy cavalrymen, now within a hundred meters, bore down on them like rolling thunder.

Ninety meters!

Eighty meters!

Seventy meters!

Neigh!...

The horse of a heavy cavalryman at the very front suddenly found no ground beneath its hooves and plunged hard into a pit, letting out a pitiful whinny.

The rider behind him had no time to stop and suffered the same fate.

As if caught in a chain reaction, several more heavy cavalrymen trampled into pits disguised on the surface with branches and a light covering of snow, crashing to the ground.

But these cavalrymen were indeed skilled riders. Apart from those at the front who couldn't avoid the pits and fell, the rest controlled their mounts and swerved around them.

Still, there were plenty of these traps across the short stretch of ground. By the time the heavy cavalrymen were close to the chevaux-de-frise, they had already lost at least forty or fifty of their comrades.

"Heh, Robb told the supply team to secretly dig these horse traps last night. They're working pretty well!"

Watching the heavy cavalrymen hit the traps and tumble in every direction, Theon grinned at Owen.

"Mm. It's just not a very honorable tactic."

The young-looking Owen spoke with the air of an old noble.

"Well, you should meet Jon sometime. On the battlefield, if a tactic can kill the enemy effectively, it's a good tactic."

Theon rolled his eyes at that.

"They're almost here. I'll head to the front!"

Owen said no more. His expression turned serious as he lowered his helmet's visor and headed toward the ranks of pikemen.

Now that things had turned serious, Theon stopped grinning too. He lowered his own visor and stared straight ahead.

Bang! Crack!

The heavy cavalry's impact was no joke. Like a heavy tank, they slammed into the chevaux-de-frise with brute force.

The chevaux-de-frise were smashed apart. The hastily made spikes on them couldn't pierce the defenses of the cavalrymen's heavy armor.

Neigh!

The force of smashing through the chevaux-de-frise rebounded into the horses leading the charge. Their breastbones shattered in who knew how many places; blood poured from their mouths as they collapsed limply to the ground.

The heavy cavalrymen on their backs crashed down hard, only to be mercilessly trampled by the horses charging behind them.

Thud!

A heavy cavalryman's pike pierced straight through a pikeman on a supply wagon.

But several sharp iron spearheads nearby also pierced his and his horse's bodies, leaving them like rag dolls full of holes.