In the Roote family castle of Lord Harroway's Town.
Beside the long table, Lymond. Lychester's fingers kept tapping the wooden table top silently, making a dull sound.
A dusty House Lychester knight was bowing down to report, but his words could not hide his disappointment. "Sir, most of the East Riverlands families have responded to the call."
"But... the people they sent were all mobilized farmers, led by the knights of the family. No lord or family member came in person."
This means that this so-called East Riverlands coalition is composed entirely of armed peasants. It is nothing more than an empty show and can only serve as a deterrent, but cannot be used in actual combat.
But the owner of this place, the slightly fat Lord Valion. Roote, patted his thighs and the flesh on his face was trembling. "This is a great thing!!!"
"Master Lychester! Six thousand people! Six thousand people!!!"
He waved his arms excitedly. Six thousand people are here. Those Ironborn will never dare to invade his land. His castle is indestructible. What does other people have to do with me?
"As long as these six thousand people are stationed in Lord Harroway's Town! Those damn pirates will not dare to cross us! To invade the rich land of East Riverlands!"
"We will stay here! Once His Majesty the King's main army arrives! Our mission will be completed!!"
Valion. Roote's voice kept echoing in the room. Lymond. Lychester looked at him and said nothing, but his brows furrowed tighter, representing House Mallister's little Patrick, his eyes wandered between Lymond. Lychester and Roote. He realized that choosing silence now should be the best result, and finally chose silence.
Valion. Roote Seeing that the old man didn't speak, he just thought he was old and comatose and had become crazy, so he immersed himself in Lord Harroway's Town's indestructible dream.
At this moment, the door was pushed open violently, and a knight from the Lychester family rushed in with an excited expression. He caught a glimpse of Valion. Roote and Patrick. Mallister. He swallowed the words he spoke and just looked at his lord anxiously.
Valion. Roote and Patrick. Mallister immediately understood. "Since there is something important, we won't bother you."
Lord Roote stood up wisely, pulled little Patrick away, the door closed again, and the sound gradually faded awayO
A man wrapped in a black cloak followed the Lychester knight and walked in quietly. He had a tall figure and a low hood, hiding his entire face in the shadows.
Lymond. Lychester raised his eyelids, looked at the person with his cloudy eyes, then looked at his own knight, and said in a hoarse voice, "Who are you?!"
The visitor did not answer immediately, but slowly raised his hand and took off the hood that covered his face. Under the dim candlelight, a young face that was tired from the journey but still surprisingly bright was revealed.
Lymond. Lychester's breathing suddenly stopped. His eyes widened and his whole body trembled. Then, uncontrollable ecstasy and shock broke out on his face.
The old man suddenly stood up from the chair, his movements were too fast for his age. "Suleiman?!!"
A smile appeared on Suleiman's face, with a hint of tiredness. "Sir Lymond, you are well."
The old man rushed forward in a few steps and grabbed Suleiman's arm with astonishing strength. He pulled Suleiman to the seat, looked him up and down excitedly, and said in a trembling tone, "How did you come back? The raven letter I received said? You have escorted House Grell into the Westerlands!"
"How did you do it? Why is there no news at all?"
Suleiman shook his head, his voice was steady and unclear. "I'm lucky, I didn't meet any enemies along the way."
"As for the news about the Westerlands, it is just a scam to confuse Ironborn."
He stood up, walked to the huge Riverlands map, and pointed at the location of Luanhe City. His voice was not loud, but it attracted the old man's full attention. "At this moment, Ironborn heading south from Luanhe City is heading towards Riverrun."
Suleiman turned his head and looked at Lymond. Lychester, his eyes shining with a sharp light like an eagle.
"My plan is for you to lead these 6,000 coalition troops to intercept them head-on at the ferry at Trident."
O
He paused to let the old man digest the shocking news.
"When your battle is at its fiercest, I will lead my cavalry and give them a fatal blow from behind."
"It will be decided in one battle."
After listening to Lymond. Lychester, excitement ignited in his heart, but his rationality soon returned, as if he was instantly extinguished by a basin of ice water. He was shocked by Suleiman's audacity, but as a veteran who has been on the battlefield all his life, he saw the fatal risks involved.
He shook his head, his gray hair shaking in the candlelight. "Suleiman, this is too risky!"
"These six thousand people! Most of them can even be said to be the vast majority are just a group of farmers who have just laid down their hoes and recruits who have never seen blood! They are not the opponents of the more than five thousand Ironborn at all!"
The old man's voice trembled with fear, as if he had foreseen everything that would happen on the battlefield, and his tone increased.
"Frontal interception? My army will collapse! It will be shredded like paper!"
"We should wait!"
"Wait until the reinforcements from the royal army, or the North, Vale arrive, then the decisive battle can be launched!"
Suleiman listened quietly, facing the worried old man, and patiently explained, "Sir Lymond, you have to understand one thing."
"This war is the king's war. It is the war of Iron Throne. It is not the war of the Westerlands, Vale and the Reach. It is not even the war of Riverlands."
He looked at the old man's confused eyes and continued to analyze.
"As long as the king's army is still on the way to assemble, Vale's army and the Westerlands's army will never take the initiative to attack, even if their armies are ready."
"This is not their war. They will only cooperate with the royal army in fighting. Any unnecessary sacrifices will be unnecessary losses for them."
"There are only Eddard. Stark for the North, because he is a "good guy"."
"But the North is vast and sparsely populated, and its mobilization speed is the slowest among Seven Kingdoms. Just like the Dance of the Dragons war, by the time the North's army overran the Neck, the war is basically over."
He walked up to Lymond. Lychester, looked directly into his eyes, and spoke word by word.
"So, sir, it is you who will win this war for Riverlands."
"For our goals, it must be you."
Lymond. Lychester heard his words, and his chest heaved violently. Yes, for their goal, he knew that every word Suleiman said was right, but Reason told him again that the most critical problem could not be solved. He said in silence, "But, Suleiman... Our army's morale and combat effectiveness are far inferior to Ironborn."
"In a head-on fight, they have no chance of winning. They will run away."
Suleiman looked at him and said something that could change everything, "Go tell the soldiers."
"Just chop off one Ironborn's head and get two Gold Dragon!"
There was deathly silence in the room. Lymond. Lychester stood up in shock, his lips trembled and he stuttered when he spoke, "How many... many... how many? Two Gold Dragon?!"
A few Silver Stag are enough to make a farmer and civilian family live a prosperous life for a whole year! Two Gold Dragon!
For farmers and commoners! This is a fortune that can drive them crazy!
Suleiman nodded affirmatively, without any change in his expression. Lymond. Lychester gritted his teeth excitedly, his cheeks flushed with excitement, but then, the anger evaporated again.
He sat back in his chair slumped, his voice full of weakness. "Suleiman... I am by no means unwilling to bid. I am willing to give everything for your and my goals."
"But this war has cost me everything. From my family's treasury, the most I can take out is...
Thousand Gold Dragon, this is simply not enough."
Suleiman stood up and walked to the old man who was worried about Gold Dragon. He did not speak, but stretched out his hand, gently took the old man's hand, asked him to sit firmly again, and then knelt down on one knee.
He looked up at the old man and said in an unprecedented and extremely solemn tone, "Master Lymond, my family has a property of ten thousand Gold Dragon."
Lymond. Lychester's eyes instantly widened like bells. He was not only shocked that Suleiman a small family could possess such a huge wealth, but also shocked by what he said next.
"I would like to dedicate all of these Gold Dragon to you, sir, as a reward for this battle.
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This is ten thousand Gold Dragon. If you do something wrong, Lymond. Lychester wants to talk to dissuade you.
But Suleiman stopped him with a firm look.
He said slowly and clearly, "If Gold Dragon is not used but is just piled in a warehouse, what is the difference between it and scrap metal?"