Chapter 221 Lady Forlorn
Stannis Baratheon gritted his teeth and said, " Randyll House Tarly..."
Although the Onion Knight maintained a respectful expression, he was filled with worry. His "god" had undergone many unsettling changes since he arrived here.
What affected him?
Power, or a terrifying priestess? Or both?
Davos Seaworth quickly shook his head inwardly. How could a smuggler understand the greatness of Stannis I? He shouldn't question his "god."
He began, "My King Stannis, if we take King's Landing as soon as possible, I believe the Reach will soon make a wise choice."
"Smuggler..."
King Stannis coldly addressed his Onion Knight, and continued, "Sixteen years ago, Mace Tyrell chose to be my enemy, and now..."
His teeth were grinding. "I will never leave him behind!"
Davos's pupils contracted sharply, and his lips trembled as he said, "You mean...?"
Stannis's eyes were deep. " Davos, I haven't forgotten."
Davos opened his mouth, trying to persuade him, " King Stannis, Salado Saan ( Davos's friend, Chapter 203) told me..."
Stannis rudely interrupted Davos: "That pirate's mind is filled with fantasies about the treasure buried beneath the Red Keep; all he cares about is gold! Don't let me hear his name again. If I ever have to let the Lys pirates teach me how to fight, I'd rather take off my crown and wear black!"
After a moment of silence, Stannis reached for the glass, which contained cold water sprinkled with salt.
He downed the water in his glass in one gulp, paused, and said, " Davos, we need provisions, and my brother's provisions are at Bitterbridge."
He looked at his Onion Knight: "Smuggler, my mind is clear. Melisandre foresaw Renly's destruction long ago, back on Dragonstone, and told my wife about it."
Many urged me to march straight to Joffrey King's Landing, but Melisandre told me... if I went to Storm's End, I would win the elite of my brother's army. And indeed, her prophecy of the Sacred Fire has never been false."
Davos frowned slightly. Was this why King Stannis was increasingly trusting the Red Priestess?
Before their last parting, Lord Gryn had hinted to him that everything comes at a price.
Stannis's aged appearance... the priestess's Shadow Magic... Davos felt a surge of fear, his heart filled with terror and unease.
This cannot be allowed; his "god" must not continue to be bewitched by Melisandre!
Davos vehemently refuted the priestess's prophecy of the Sacred Fire: " King Stannis, Lord Renly, was originally planning to march on King's Landing to attack the Lannister. If you hadn't besieged Storm's End, he wouldn't have come at all. He could have attacked King's Landing directly, and you could have waited for them to weaken each other before launching your attack."
King Stannis frowned. "I don't like useless assumptions. Renly is here, and that's that. He's here to face his destruction, and that fact cannot be changed... This is killing two birds with one stone for me."
He paused, then continued, " Melisandre saw something else in the Sacred Fire; she saw Renly, clad in green armor, marching from the south and crushing my army beneath the King's Landing."
He said coldly, "Without a doubt, if I were to encounter my brother there, it would be me, not him, who dies, Sir Davos."
Davos continued, " King Stannis, if she could see two different futures, then perhaps... both are false prophecies."
You're wrong, Onion Knight.
King Stannis raised a finger and continued, "Light casts more than one shadow. Flames flicker and dance, never still, so shadows vary in length. An ordinary person can cast more than a dozen shadows, some only more indistinct than others. You see, the same principle applies to a person's future. But whether he casts one or more shadows for his future, Melisandre can see them."
Davos felt powerless, and wisely refrained from further argument. He knew very well that King Stannis's patience was nearly exhausted, and that he had already shown "God's" favor by speaking so much for him.
King Stannis's voice rang out. "Smuggler, stand before the campfire and see for yourself."
Davos looked slightly embarrassed... In fact, he had already tried it secretly. He had watched the fire flicker and change, staring at it for a long time without blinking, trying to pass through it and see what was behind the curtain of fire... No matter what was there... there was nothing... only fire... As a result, his eyes began to water.
" Davos, go and get ready."
King Stannis rose from his chair, his tall frame rising, his deep blue, almost black eyes seemingly gazing at the Bitterbridge in the Reach.
The Crackclaw Point men believe that one Crackclaw Point men can defeat ten Vale people.
The Vale people, on the other hand, believe that one Vale person can defeat ten Crackclaw Point men.
This statement is actually difficult to examine in detail; strictly speaking, it's something like a catchphrase used to boost one's fighting spirit.
However, some people firmly believe this claim, such as... Sir Lyn Corbray, who carries the Valyrian steel sword " Lady Forlorn " at his waist.
Lyn Corbray, running at the front of the group, tightened the reins, and his horse stopped, reared up, and let out a loud neigh.
The Three Soaring Ravens banners of the House Corbray of the Vale fluttered in the air, beneath which stood a cavalry force of nearly two hundred, mainly composed of the House Corbray's Oath Knights and squires.
Sir Lyn was as thin as a sword, with shoulder-length brown hair and a handsome face.
He gazed into the distance and chuckled, "I think I've spotted some barbarian sentries, hmm..."
He paused for a moment, then added, "Looks like there are quite a few people here!"
Pointing his riding crop forward, he sneered at the crowd behind him, "Since when have Wildling in animal skins dared to provoke Vale Knights on the plains?!"
Sir Lyn's words made all the knights laugh.
As his horse paced back and forth, Sir Lyn proudly raised his chin and proclaimed, "My knights, I intend to teach these impolite fellows a lesson!"
The others echoed in agreement, but Sir Lyn's squire spoke up uneasily, "My lord, our mission is..."
They were the vanguard sent by the Declaration of Lords Declarant. Bronze Yohn had assigned them the task of monitoring Crabb in Gulltown and protecting the villages near Gulltown from Crabb's raids as much as possible.
Sir Lyn was the commander of this cavalry unit.
Sir Lyn was vain and short-tempered, and was rumored to be the most dangerous man in the Vale.
He waved his hand to interrupt his servant, saying disdainfully, " The Wildling have fled the valley that sheltered them; their destruction is already sealed! On the plains, a single Vale cavalryman can easily kill ten Wildling!"
With a whoosh, Sir Lyn drew his sword, the ruby on the hilt of " Lady Forlorn " seeming to burn, and he shouted, "Follow me!"
Sir Lyn spurred his horse forward, and the other riders followed.
High above, Gryn Crabb looked down at the seemingly writhing cavalry below, with Sir Amparo Thorns, commander of the Thorn Legion Commander, beside him.
Gryn withdrew his gaze and said to Amparo, "My lord, this is the power of intelligence. With intelligence in hand, we can fight however we want."
Amparo listened intently, repeating Gryn's words in her mind to deepen her memory.
Gryn's face was gentle. "You have not disappointed me in giving you the Marsh Marigold Cloak (Chapter 6). I am proud of you, Sir Thorns."
Amparo looked up at her lord, her pale lips trembling slightly as she pursed them.
Gryn turned to face Amparo, patted her arm, and said, "Go, Crackclaw Point Knight, try the Vale Knight with the Crabb Longbow."
Amparo straightened up and placed his hand on his chest, saying, "Yes, Gryn!"
Sir Lyn roared furiously, "Catch them!"
Seeing the Wildling light cavalry getting further and further away, Sir Lyn kicked his horse hard in the belly, the spurs on his boots digging deep into the ground. The horse, startled, immediately accelerated and galloped away.
By this time, many of the veteran knights had sensed something was wrong, but they couldn't stop Sir Lyn from galloping ahead. They had to be on high alert and follow him with gritted teeth.
The hooves of two hundred riders pounded the ground with a rhythmic and powerful beat, and as they drew closer, the ground seemed to tremble.
On the hillside not far away, nearly a thousand archers from the Thorn Legion, who had been lying in ambush for some time, slowly drew their bows to full draw at the gesture of their adjutant, Lena, the arrowheads gleaming coldly.
As they drew closer, a sharp whistle suddenly rang out.
Immediately afterwards, the archers of the Thorn Legion released their fully drawn bowstrings.
Swish swish swish swish swish swish swish swish swish swish swish swish swish swish swish swish swish... The sky was filled with flying arrows, attacking the cavalry like a strong wind.
A black rain of arrows fell from the sky, and the panicked cavalrymen fell to the ground one after another.
The Oath Knights' full plate armor protected their bodies, but their horses were not spared from the hail of arrows.
Each arrow fired at them was much thicker and longer than ordinary arrows; they mercilessly pierced the chainmail of the knights and squires, reaping their lives.
Some agile knights attempted to retaliate, but they soon discovered that their arrows were simply no match for the distance of the attackers.
The soldiers of the Thorn Legion watched coldly as arrows flew towards the enemy; their movements were perfectly synchronized, each draw and release of the bow filled with power.
Whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh... Wherever the rain of arrows went, there was the neighing of warhorses and the wailing of the cavalry in the Vale.
Some of those shot collapsed on the spot, while others struggled in agony, trying to escape this horrific battlefield.
However, no matter how hard they tried, they could not escape the relentless rain of arrows.
The battlefield was littered with the corpses of cavalrymen and their horses, and the air was thick with the stench of blood and death.
Lena removed the chainmail hood from her head; she was petite, but her voice was louder than ever. "Spearmen! Advance!"
Fifty Crabb Spearman marched forward in perfect unison, their mission to finish off the enemy after the battle.
Thud... Thud... Thud... Thud... The blood-red spears extended and retracted, and the wails faded away one by one.
The spearmen moved rhythmically, and Sir Lyn, who had been lying motionless on the ground, suddenly got up and rolled violently toward them.
Above them were rows of spears. Sir Lyn gripped the " Lady Forlorn " tightly, the tip of the sword plunging viciously into the spearman's breastplate.
The longsword was drawn, and blood splattered everywhere.
With a flash of cold light, two Crabb Spearman fell simultaneously beneath Sir Lyn's " Lady Forlorn ".
Sir Lyn's eyes were bloodshot. Just as he was about to attack the fourth spearman, the spears pinned him to the spot. Then... the spear in Lena's hand pierced Sir Lyn's mouth, the pointed end protruding from the back of his head.
The following day, at the Magister's Palace in Gulltown.
Gryn Crabb held a piece of oiled leather in his hand, gently wiping the blade of the " Lady Forlorn ".
Lord Gryn was in a good mood; Petyr's gifts always brought surprises. He should treat him a little better next time.
Gryn's good mood was not only due to the Valyrian steel sword in his hand, but also to the surrender of the Gulltown Fleet.
The Gulltown Fleet's 28 warships, compared to the small but fast Crabb... were large and powerful, true ocean-going warships.
The fleet officers and sailors' families mostly lived in Gulltown, so they didn't have many options. In order to take over the fleet completely as soon as possible, Lord Gryn not only generously gave away Gold Dragon, but also allowed the commander-in-chief of the Gulltown Fleet to continue in his original position.
There always needs to be a transition period, and Lord Gryn has never lacked patience.
Moreover, his fleet commander-in-chief, though physically in Baratheon, seemed to have his mind... not quite in Crabb.
"Lord Gryn, a letter from the Red Keep." Leyton 'Little Steward handed over the letter that had just been received.
Sheathing " Lady Forlorn City," Gryn finished reading the Lannister Lioness's letter, his good mood instantly shattered.
Crackclaw Point, a valley northeast of Whispers.
"Dragon... Dragon... Dragon?!" Samwell House Tarly, looking utterly incredulous, collapsed to the ground.
Ser Mason Baker, standing beside Daenerys, glanced at Samwell and gave a dismissive snort.
The skinny Dick Crabb managed to help the broad-shouldered Samwell to his feet.
Dick stood by, panting, Samwell said shyly, "I'm sorry, Your Highness."
Daenerys chuckled and said, " Samwell, they're very well-behaved, don't worry."
The three little dragons hissed at Samwell, causing him to take a step back. He then scratched the back of his head sheepishly and said, "Sorry, I was really frightened. I actually saw live dragons. The Gods help me."
Daenerys walked slowly over, lowered herself, reached out and stroked the three little dragons, saying gently, "My children, it's time to eat."