Beside the ferry of Green Fork, thirty or forty flags of different colors were flapping in the wind. These were the reinforcements that came in response to Lady Roslin's call. There were only a few dozen people under each flag, like a group of guard dogs thrown out at will by their owners.
The soldiers were sitting everywhere in small groups, their clothes were disheveled, their eyes were empty and full of confusion, their spears were like pitchforks, the camp was in a mess, and the smell of mud and horse manure was everywhere.
Until, a dull and neat sound of footsteps came from a distance, from far to near. Everyone on the river beach stopped and looked at the source of the sound in shock.
On the horizon, a black tide was slowly coming, and the black lion flag was hunting at the front of the team. Under the flag, there were soldiers with clear lines and neat clothes. They marched in unison and silently. The size and appearance of this army formed a shocking contrast with the stragglers around them.
The chilling atmosphere emanating from the team of nearly a thousand people instantly silenced the noisy and chaotic river beach.
"It's the army of Suleiman!" Someone recognized the flag with a trembling voice.
"Oh my god, how many people did he bring? Look at this situation, it must be almost a thousand!"
"How could there be such a... stupid person."
The dozens of farmers they brought were like children playing house in front of this large army. Jealousy, ridicule, awe, fear, and all kinds of complex emotions were intertwined on the faces of the knights and officers. They couldn't understand why anyone would really devote all their energy to fighting a war that had no benefits in return.
Suleiman was riding on a horse, his eyes swept across the camp indifferently, without stopping for a moment. Everyone he looked at lowered their heads and shrank and trembled. They were really a group of unlucky people.
He turned over and dismounted, and walked straight to an open space. His retinue of riders quickly erected a command tent for him that was far larger and neater than the others. They did their part without giving anyone time to discuss or speculate.
Suleiman looked at Rosso Brune and spoke. His voice was not loud, but it reached his ears clearly. "Rosso."
"Go and bring all the commanders of the troops to my tent."
Rosso Brune hesitated for a moment, lowered his voice and asked, "Sir Suleiman, what if... someone doesn't come?"
Suleiman's eyes fell on the long sword on his waist, turned around and left, leaving only one sentence. "Is that a wooden stick hanging on your waist?"
Rosso felt a shiver in his heart, and instantly understood the meaning behind the word "dai". He immediately bowed down and took orders, leading a dozen fully armed retinues and galloping toward the scattered camps on war horses.
Before the meeting even started, a young man ran outside Suleiman's tent excitedly. His armor and stomach were brand new and he had unabashed enthusiasm and admiration on his face.
The young man knelt down on one knee excitedly and saluted. "Suleiman Master!"
"My name is Patrick. Morrison! I am the Second Sons of Lord Yorks. Morrison! I have always followed your example! I am just like you! I am also the Second Sons of the family! And our fathers are also good friends!"
He is the commander of the only army among this ragtag group of people whose family actually chooses to contribute "some" strength to the lord, with more than a hundred people.
Suleiman looked at the enthusiastic young man in front of him, with no waves in his eyes. Thinking of the old man who Willow Town had no ill intentions, he finally nodded to him lightly and expressed his welcome. He really didn't even bother to say a polite word.
Soon, under Rosso's "enthusiastic" invitation, more than thirty flags from major families and knights gathered in Suleiman's tent. The tent was small and crowded with people. Everyone knew that young people were not good at making trouble, and the atmosphere seemed a bit depressing.
Before Suleiman could speak, a scene that surprised him happened. There were more than twenty landed knights and landless knights who were loyal to House Deddings, and they all stood up.
Led by an elderly knight, they solemnly performed a knight's salute to Suleiman. Their voices were uniform and echoed in the tent:
"We are willing to obey the command of Lord Suleiman!"
This sudden "surrender" made all the representatives of other families stunned.
The older knight then said loudly, "My Lord, for House Deddings, I defeated Wildlings and saved Riverlands! I also defeated House Legg, defended Lord Balon's family dignity and rights, and avenged House Deddings's shame!"
Another young knight also added, "You won Trial by Combat in Vale! Use it in an honorable way! Take back your own land! No one here is more powerful than you! You can command us! It's perfect!"
The other vassal representatives present looked at each other. Knight vassals tend to have stronger bonds with their lords than lord vassals.
They understand that these knights who are closely related to House Deddings have already made their choice.
Suleiman also understands that their interests are deeply tied to House Deddings, and he is House Deddings's largest and most reliable reinforcement at the moment. Their choice is understandable. From all aspects, they can only support themselves.
The remaining knight officers representing the major families saw that the knights had already stood up and were ready to stand up, expressing their willingness to obey the command. After all, Suleiman's strength and reputation are here, and he is the only one capable of leading this coalition at the moment.
However, just when one of them cleared his throat and was about to take the lead in speaking out and blowing a rainbow fart, Suleiman raised his hand and stopped him.
Suleiman's eyes slowly swept over everyone present. His eyes did not look like he was looking at allies, but more like he was examining a group of prisoners. Everyone was confused and a little embarrassed. The temperature in the tent seemed to have dropped a few degrees.
He finally spoke, his voice cold and bone-chilling. "Before I answer whether I follow the command."
"I want to know."
"Why did your lord just send you knights to lead the team instead of sending members of your own family?"
This question was like a basin of ice water poured over everyone's heads, and the atmosphere in the tent instantly solidified.
After a brief silence, a knight officer from House Pyle stood up bravely.
"Lord Suleiman, my master is following Lord Balon to resist Ironborn at Seaguard. The territory is empty of troops. He sent me to lead the troops. He has fulfilled his obligations as a vassal and should not be criticized."
As soon as he finished speaking, another representative from the vassal lord family immediately intervened.
"Sir, our territory is close to Green Fork, and we are always facing the threat of Ironborn. We are already stretched thin with so many manpower."
When everyone saw someone taking the lead, they all opened their mouths to explain the words they had recited.
"My elder is sick."
"My master is at Seaguard. He believes that his son is too young to go to war."
For a moment, the tent turned into a meeting of excuses, with all kinds of excuses emerging one after another. Each one sounded so reasonable and reasonable, as if they were all the most innocent and dutiful vassals.
Suleiman listened quietly, without saying a word, and there was no emotion or anger on his face. He knew very well that these people were just perfunctory and conserving their strength. He just sighed, your lord is thankfully not me. Otherwise, if I didn't attack Ironborn, I would be the first one to break into your master's castle.
They kept the whole family in the foundation of the castle.
After everyone finished reciting the prepared speeches, the tent became quiet again. Logically speaking, the young man in front of them had no right to judge them, but it felt like they were waiting for his verdict, as if the young man in front of them... was their lord.
Everyone's eyes were focused on Suleiman, nervously waiting for his "judgment".
Rosso presented the troops he had just calculated. "Sir Suleiman, the total strength of all the troops is one thousand four hundred and twenty-seven Suleiman He took the parchment, glanced at it, and threw it aside. Among the more than 1,400 people, the old, weak, sick, and farmers who were obviously here to make up the numbers accounted for nearly one-third. The only ones who can really go to the battlefield are probably more than a thousand of their own.
He originally planned that if he could gather thousands of soldiers, he would take the initiative to find Ironborn's main force and fight to the death, "famous Seven Kingdoms".
Now it seems that this idea must be abandoned. Expecting this group of rabble-rousers with their own ulterior motives to fight a tough battle is tantamount to driving a group of sheep to besiege hungry wolves. In the end, only his own army will fight, and he will never waste the wealth he has worked hard to accumulate for future wars on this war.
Suleiman stood up. Everyone in the tent's breathing was stagnant, and some even trembled in fright.
Without another word of nonsense, he directly issued the order, "Everyone! Break camp immediately!"
The voice was decisive.
"Go to Deddings Castle first!"
The army began to move slowly. On the march, Suleiman made reorganization arrangements. The more than twenty knights of House Deddings,
As well as the more than one hundred peasants and soldiers they brought with them, he incorporated them into his own army and commanded them personally.
As for the other troops sent by the vassal lords, he threw them like garbage on the wings and rear of the team.
Suleiman neither issued orders to them nor assigned tasks to them. He didn't even bother to send a herald to waste time. He just let them follow them loosely, as if they were not allies but a group of dispensable cheerleaders.
He planned to drop them at any time if Ironborn attacked from the flank or rear, and use them as cannon fodder to attract Ironborn's firepower.