Fury

After dismissing everyone, Suleiman was alone in the tent.

Suleiman began considering the situation.

Two fingers tapped against the tabletop again and again.

Bronn's joining them changed nothing.

No matter how strong he was, he was still only one man.

Besides, given how much he valued his life, he wouldn't throw himself into a hopeless situation.

And he probably hadn't lied about Valleydeep Town's situation.

Suleiman could understand Grover Valleydeep's feelings completely.

After all, it was Grover who was trapped in the siege, not him.

If the town fell, Grover's people would be killed and his tribe wiped out.

But the problem was that Suleiman had no way to relieve the siege of Valleydeep Town.

He didn't think he had the strength to do it.

This was no longer a case of taking a risk for great rewards. It was like throwing a meat bun to a dog.

He needed a plan, one that would give the besieging enemy forces a headache.

He needed chaos, the kind that would let him strike while they were distracted.

A faint, almost imperceptible curve appeared at the corner of Suleiman's mouth.

The Wildlings should have found those traces by now.

He had long seen through the nature of the Wildlings:

"Simple, direct, and vengeful."

These so-called Free Folk would abandon everything for revenge.

In the Burned Men's beast-hide tent, in the besieging camp outside Valleydeep Town,

Timett Son of Timett was having a headache.

The Flatlanders' stone walls were far too difficult for the Wildlings, who had no experience with sieges.

They had ferocious savagery and the courage to risk their lives.

But a stone wall was another matter.

There were no trees for them to climb, and no soft earth for them to dig through.

Their crude wooden ladders couldn't reach the ramparts, and their rough ropes wouldn't hold fast.

Even if they managed to climb up, they were met by a dense rain of arrows and a hail of stones.

Then, all at once, piercing screams rang out from all over the camp!

They interrupted Timett Son of Timett's thoughts.

Timett Son of Timett sprang to his feet.

More screams rang out from all over the camp, one after another.

Even his own Burned Men camp was filled with the same screams and chaos!

He didn't stop to think. He snatched up the fine sword he had taken from a Flatlander.

In one swift movement, he rushed out of the tent and ran toward the screams.

At a glance, he spotted the chief of the Howlers.

The same chief of the Howlers he had argued with earlier.

He could hardly recognize him.

The man was in the prime of his life.

Just the other day, his voice had been strong and full.

But now,

his body seemed to have aged in an instant.

His hair had turned white.

He was hunched over almost beyond recognition.

At that moment, he was kneeling on the ground,

cradling something charred black, so badly burned it was barely recognizable as human.

His eyes bloodshot, he let out a beastlike wail.

He kept cursing loudly, his voice hoarse with pain.

"My son! My son! My child!" the chief of the Howlers howled, his voice tearing at the heart.

Now Timett Son of Timett knew the rumors were true.

He clenched the stolen sword in his hand, his palm turning white from the force.

Those Flatlanders had really hunted them right under their noses!

"Pursue them! Kill them! Avenge our warriors!" The Wildlings of the Howlers had fallen into utter madness.

"Damn those Flatlanders! I'll chop them into mincemeat!" The Wildlings of the Milk Snakes and Painted Dogs also roared in fury, eyes bloodshot.

The chief of the Howlers abruptly stood and looked at Timett Son of Timett, his eyes bloodshot.

"Timett Son of Timett!"

"The Howlers won't stay here, keeping company with these stone walls!"

"We'll find those Flatlanders and cut off their heads!"

The Wildlings of the Milk Snakes and Painted Dogs were like powder kegs ready to explode.

"Count us in!"

"We'll cut off their heads and avenge our children and brothers!"

A violent fury swept through the camp like the wind.

Hundreds of bloodshot eyes all called for the same thing—revenge!

Timett Son of Timett looked at the out-of-control Wildlings, and his heart sank.

He was furious too, but he knew they had to put the bigger picture first.

If they didn't take Valleydeep Town, it would remain a thorn in their path forward and their route of retreat.

The stone walls

were already difficult enough to breach.

Now,

if their forces were divided further,

their siege would be weakened.

He stepped forward sharply,

trying to stop them.

"Stop!" he shouted, his voice carrying an unquestionable authority.

"The walls! They're our real target!"

He pointed toward the distant stone fortress,

Valleydeep Town, which was not especially tall, yet now looked so imposing.

"Have you forgotten how many of our people have already died attacking this town?!"

"If we divide our forces, we'll only grow weaker!"

"Then none of us will be able to breach these walls!"

"For the sake of our goal, we must take this town!"

But

the enraged Wildlings wouldn't listen to reason.

The chief of the Howlers roared at him.

"Timett Son of Timett!"

"You sit in your tent, listening to your people scream. Are you going to do nothing?!"

"That was my son!"

"They died right under our noses, hunted like livestock!"

"I don't care about raiding anymore! I want revenge!"

"I want to kill every Flatlander!"

"Men, women, children—all of them!" His furious roar rang throughout the camp.

The chiefs of the Milk Snakes and Painted Dogs also stepped forward,

their eyes full of deep resentment toward Timett Son of Timett.

"Timett Son of Timett!"

"You're not our leader!"

"You have no right to command us!"

"We're going to take revenge! We'll cut off those Flatlanders' heads!"

Timett Son of Timett looked at them,

at their eyes full of hatred and fury.

He knew he couldn't stop them.

Their anger had already surpassed all reason,

all strategy.

"Damn it!" he cursed inwardly.

He gripped his sword so hard his knuckles turned white.

There was nothing he could do

but watch helplessly

as the Howlers, the Milk Snakes, and the Painted Dogs,

more than three hundred Wildling warriors,

led by their respective chiefs,

left the besieging camp,

their hearts full of hatred and murderous intent.

Like a pack of enraged beasts, they roared

and charged into the depths of the night,

pursuing the Flatlanders.

The Stone Crow Tribe, the Black Ears Tribe, and several other tribes

also sent men to join them.

They didn't even know where the Flatlanders had gone.

They only knew that they had to kill every Flatlander they could find!

And the stone fortress

loomed even more unassailable behind them.

An angry, silent Burned Men warrior stepped forward.

"What are we going to do, Timett Son of Timett?!"

Timett Son of Timett looked at them, at his people.

Some of the hunted Wildlings had been Warriors of the Burned Men too.

His people were furious as well.

They wanted to pursue the Flatlanders too.

But

Timett Son of Timett looked toward Valleydeep Town.

"We'll take revenge!"

"After we take this damned stone fortress!"

"After we've killed every Flatlander hiding inside it!"