The Clash

The Burned Men's eyes were bloodshot, their faces flushed red with rage. These Flatlanders had made them feel a fury unlike anything they had ever known.

Roars burst from the Burned Men's throats!

They no longer cared about the ditches and fences obstructing them!

Their only thought was to charge across as quickly as possible, hack apart the Flatlander cowards hiding behind the ditches and wooden barriers, and avenge their fallen clansmen!

Walker, Son of Nego, drew his battle-axe and bellowed:

"Warriors of the Burned Men! Kill them all!"

The Burned Men charged Suleiman's defenses, brandishing a motley assortment of weapons: swords, axes, spears, and clubs.

They moved fast, their steps carrying the speed and strength they had developed through years of living in the High Mountains. It was as if they meant to smash through every obstacle in their way with their own bodies.

Yet this fierce charge struck an invisible wall.

The warriors at the front reached the edge of the ditch. To engage the Flatlanders, they had no choice but to jump down or search for a place to cross.

Those close behind pressed straight into them, and the formation instantly became hopelessly congested.

Some tried to jump the ditch; others tried to climb down into it, but fences had been placed across it.

That forced them to find a way to break through the fences.

This gave the archers their chance. Suleiman's force had scraped together more than a dozen archers. They had all once been hunters, and now they served as the army's bowmen.

"Loose!" Suleiman ordered calmly.

The archers stood in the front rank.

At Suleiman's direction, they kept loosing arrows. The hunters were skilled at shooting small game, so Suleiman had ordered them to aim at the unprotected eyes of the Burned Men wildlings.

The Burned Men warriors felt utterly humiliated. At such close range, the Flatlanders were raining arrows down on them.

Especially those damned, shameless Flatlanders, who kept shooting at the warriors' eyes!

They dared not even raise their heads to look up, making it even harder to climb up and move the fences out of the way!

The strength and ferocity they had always taken pride in seemed clumsy and ineffective against a prepared defensive position.

Behind the fences, Suleiman's soldiers were still nervous, but the scene before them gave them tremendous confidence.

After all, this was their first time on a battlefield. They were bound to feel shaken!

But now, solid earth lay beneath their feet. In front of them stood crude but effective wooden barriers and ditches. Comrades filled the ranks on either side, and their enemies were beneath them!

Standing there, they were like hunters waiting for prey! They didn't have to charge into close combat with these terrifying savages!

Suleiman watched it all. This was exactly why he had made his choice.

He had used the terrain and simple defenses to turn the enemy's strengths into weaknesses, wearing down their strength and morale in the ditches and against the fences, with their foes looking down on them.

His force was made up of new recruits, after all. Even if they had now acquired ambition, greed, desire, and a hunger for victory,

they were still new recruits! Only after being tested by blood and fire could they build their confidence!

Throwing men who had only just taken up weapons into a bloody, close-quarters battle against the savage Burned Men wildlings would do nothing to build that confidence.

Now they didn't have to face the savage wildlings directly. They only needed to follow simple orders from a relatively safe position.

The archers steadily fired arrows into the enemy crowding at close range, while the spearmen guarded the fences, repeatedly jabbing their spearpoints at the wildlings' arms as they tried to climb up.

At first, the spearmen's hands trembled as they gripped their shafts. But with every time they wounded a wildling,

and every time they heard one howl in pain, their fear began to recede like the tide.

In its place came a strange calm. Their movements grew faster and stronger.

The archers grew more fluid, too, mechanically drawing, aiming, and firing in a steady rhythm.

Every arrow's "whoosh" as it left the string passed judgment on a Burned Man wildling's eyes.

As the wildlings' eyes were struck again and again, the soldiers' confidence grew just as quickly.

Did they even feel a strange sort of thrill?

From the start, the battle had been destined to be unfair.

One side had used the terrain and simple defenses to form a safe line with ranged weapons and long arms, building confidence behind it.

The other was a pack of beasts, charging in fury but trapped before obstacles, unable to use their strengths and gradually falling apart in despair.

Walker, Son of Nego, watched, his heart bleeding, but quickly realized that this could not go on.

He had thought the Burned Men warriors' courage would let them storm the Flatlanders' wooden defenses in one charge and drag them into the close combat the Burned Men excelled at!

He hadn't expected these Flatlanders, with no iron armor, to be so tough!

"Fall back! Retreat! Get back!" Walker, Son of Nego, roared himself hoarse.

His voice sounded weak amid the chaos.

He tried to order the warriors forcing their way forward to stop, while also telling those still attacking the Flatlanders to pull back!

Yet for the Burned Men of the Mountain Clans, retreat was often harder than charging.

The warriors, their eyes bloodshot and their minds clouded by rage, didn't immediately hear the order—or, if they did, refused to accept it.

They continued trying in vain to climb out of the ditch and destroy the fences, hoping to clear a path for their brothers to charge through!

Those trying to fall back were squeezed by the comrades surging up behind them, eager to press forward. The formation descended into chaos.

When Suleiman's soldiers saw the enemy beginning to withdraw, they were initially stunned.

Then suppressed cheers of excitement spread through the ranks.

Suleiman calmly surveyed the battlefield.

He did not let the apparent victory go to his head.

The scene was chaotic, but the Burned Men were still helping their wounded comrades retreat. This was no rout, and a reckless pursuit could provoke a counterattack.

When he saw some soldiers preparing to leave the defenses and charge out to fight,

he hurriedly shouted an order for Lushen and Roslyn, who were at the front, to relay his command:

"Archers! Keep firing! Aim at the enemy trying to break away! Infantry, hold your line! No one leaves the defenses without my order!"

Lushen and Roslyn did not understand why he wasn't ordering them to pursue the fleeing enemy, but they faithfully carried out Lord Suleiman's command.

They immediately galloped off on horseback, shouting the order to the troops.

The spearmen were eager to charge out and pursue the enemy, but under Suleiman's orders, they managed to restrain themselves.

They gripped their spears tightly, planted their feet, and held their positions by the fences.

The archers followed the order immediately, sending arrows into the backs of the retreating Burned Men warriors.

The retreating warriors had let down their guard against attacks from behind, leaving their backs exposed as easy targets. Every shot found its mark.

When the Burned Men warriors moved out of the archers' range, they stopped and glared furiously in Suleiman's direction.

Suleiman knew then that he had made the right decision. The enemy had not truly routed.

They had been trying to lure him away from his defenses with a retreat, so they could counterattack once he launched a pursuit.

He had to admit, these savages really were fine warriors. No wonder Tyrion liked them so much.

Suleiman rode forward.

He ordered the soldiers to rest where they stood.

The archers relaxed their taut bowstrings, and the spearmen lowered their weapons and slumped to the ground, panting heavily.

Their clothes were drenched in sweat, and their arms ached from tension and exertion. Yet excitement and an immense sense of accomplishment shone on their faces!

Toman knelt on the ground, staring at the blood still on the tip of his spear.

Then he burst out laughing!

He had wounded five or six savages just now.

Every time he struck one of them! it filled him with exhilaration and pride!

The resting soldiers were swept up by his laughter and began laughing one after another.