Past Credentials

Sandor has two dreams. The first is to find a way to heal the burn scars on his face, but that's impossible.

Fortunately, the mask Jon gave him meant he didn't have to always put on a fierce look to scare people.

Secondly, he possessed a Valyrian steel sword.

Sandor looked at the longsword in his hand, which was chipped and dulled, by the moonlight. He was panting heavily. The continuous battles had pushed his body to its limit.

He couldn't remember how many times he had swung his sword, nor how many people he had killed. Sandor inexplicably thought of his brother Gregor, the guy who wouldn't be happy unless he killed someone.

"Brother, it would be great if you could come and keep me company for a while."

Sandor suddenly swept his sword across the ground, cutting down an Iron Islands soldier.

I almost forgot, your head has already been chopped off by the adults.

Having temporarily repelled the enemy's attack, Sandor and his soldiers found even the movement somewhat strenuous. They all leaned on their swords or spears, dragging their heavy steps as they regrouped.

Needless to say, their formation has become even thinner.

Their mouths were filled with the taste of blood, and no one knew if they could withstand the next attack. Soon they saw another wave of Iron Islands soldiers forming ranks in the darkness.

"Archers, prepare!" Sandor roared in a hoarse voice. The archer formation behind him was sparse, numbering less than a hundred.

"Sir, we're almost out of arrows!"

Upon hearing this news, Sandor's eyes widened immediately. "What's wrong with you, kid! Don't you know we have limited supplies and need to use them sparingly!" As he spoke, he pressed his massive body and head against the archer squad leader. "The enemy is about to press in, and you're telling me we're out of arrows?!"

Sandor's voice was quite loud, especially when the mask suddenly slipped off his face, as if a large piece of skin and flesh had been peeled off, which was very frightening.

The squad leader who was reprimanded was also startled, but he quickly recovered.

"Sir! There are too many enemies. You should speak reasonably. You were the one who shouted the loudest when we were fighting! Mogi! Block the left flank! Mogi, support the right flank! Seven Hells, Mogi! Are you blind?! Shoot that pirate captain to death! What? Now you're denying it, Sir?" The archer squad leader who had retorted to Sandor was not to be outdone.

Sandor was immediately displeased when he saw the squad leader who was talking to him, but he still recognized him by the light of the torch.

They're from the Brotherhood Without Banners.

Back in Harrenhal, they joined Jon's army along with Beric Dondarrion. Some of them went home after receiving their rewards, but a large number, hearing that Jon was going to fight in the Westerlands, joined Jon's army in hopes of securing a brighter future for themselves.

The man standing before me, Mogi, was none other than the sharpshooter from the Brotherhood Without Banners.

In some ways, the other party was more senior than Sandor, but his insight was not as sharp as Sandor's. He approached Jon when Jon was still declining the title of Duke.

However, the other party is doing well now. Jon knighted him when he conquered Casterly Rock, and he also made great contributions in the Battle of the Bay of Severed Heads. Now he has his own fief and estate, and he will probably be promoted to viscount soon.

Realizing that his opponent's experience was no less than his own, Sandor's expression changed, and he said, "Brother Mogi, I'm truly sorry, I was too hasty. But the lord is not far from us, and without arrows, we might not be able to withstand the next attack."

Seeing the other party's expression change, Mogi pursed his lips and didn't bother to argue. He looked at the few remaining archers behind him and said, "Gather all the arrows here, everyone take your spears and reinforce the formation!"

The remaining archers had no objections, after all, their squad leader was a recognized sharpshooter.

There were less than a hundred arrows left, and giving them all to him would allow them to be used more effectively.

However, this time everyone felt something was strange; the enemy's next wave of attacks was delayed. Although they didn't know what had happened, they still took the time to rest.

Meanwhile, on Euron's side, the Iron Islands army had reacted and found themselves in a dilemma, facing a massive army of serfs.

Jon's defensive line and formation at the front remained impenetrable, while behind him surged a large number of serfs, leaving some lords in a state of near chaos.

"Your Majesty, what should we do now?" Rodrik asked Balon.

But what could Balon do? He was completely controlled by Euron, and even his mouth was speaking on Euron's behalf.

A cold glint flashed in Balon's eyes as he glanced at Euron.

Euron was also sweating profusely with anxiety. He had never commanded a battle involving tens of thousands of people before, and he thought that he could overwhelm them with an absolute numerical advantage.

Indeed, that was the case. Although they hadn't made much progress, they could sense that Jon's defenses were crumbling. Given two more hours, they could reach Jon.

Just as he was still hesitating, a well-trained, heavily armored, and high-spirited team suddenly charged towards their location from a very tricky angle.

The leading officer wore a yellow cloak and blue armor; he was none other Garrett Flowers.

Following the route Jon had given him, he moved like a fish, launching a suicidal attack on Balon Euron's location as quickly and deeply as possible while alerting the fewest enemies.

Without the rapidly approaching army of serfs, it would indeed have been a suicidal assault.

"Quick! Quick! Stop them!" Rodrik, realizing what was happening, ordered his son, Derman. The surrounding Iron Islands lords were even more flustered.

"Without Father, our soldiers won't be able to get here in time," Derman said with a mournful face. "Father, let's leave here first, let's get away from them!"

hide?

Although it was dark, Balon and his group had many torches burning around them, which illuminated their banners very clearly.

Most soldiers could see their commander's position.

If this territory is occupied, the already exhausted army will immediately collapse in morale, and defeat will come as expected.

"No! No need to retreat!" Euron stepped forward and said, even forgetting to ask Balon to speak. "We still have an ambush force that can hold them off!"

Euron was referring to the spearmen "prepared for Jon, specifically to be left to deal with Jon."

When the spearmen, numbering several hundred, appeared, Galleott's army had already advanced to within a few hundred meters of Euron and his men.

Fortunately, the appearance of this spearmen halted their advance.

"Why not send this army up ahead of time? Such an elite force would be enough to break through their defenses."

Derman was completely baffled by what he saw, but it wasn't the time to question it.

However, some lords, including Rodrik and Gubole, expressed doubt and confusion about Euron's military strategy, remarking that "this guy is an amateur."

Euron, however, had a bitter pill to swallow. He couldn't tell anyone that he had left behind this elite force of several hundred men to prevent Jon from leading his troops into battle.

He was too embarrassed to tell these lords that his Silence had been taken by Jon Snow single-handedly; no one would believe it if he told them.

Sure enough, Euron, which he used to monitor the battlefield, soon brought news that a cavalry force of over a hundred men had launched a charge toward the thickest and densest part of the Iron Islands' army.

Leading the charge of this cavalry was the figure clad in white armor; he was like a bolt of lightning in the night.

Wielding two long spears, he was practically unstoppable.

A soldier from the Iron Islands, confident in his physical strength, stood in front of Jon with a shield, but the next second his shield was pierced through, and his body was lifted high into the air by a spear.

Jon swung his spear fiercely, and the still-living body on the spear flew off like a cannonball.

Such a valiant commander naturally ignited the morale of the soldiers behind him, and their charging speed increased once again.

Since Jon had not made a move since arriving on the island, these hundred-odd cavalrymen were likely Jon's personal guards.

But now it seems that such a powerful person doesn't need any guards at all.

Jon's charge disrupted the Iron Islands' formation, and under the cover of night, the Iron Islands soldiers who instinctively fled even caused a stampede.

They tried to stop the cavalry, but Jon always managed to break through from the most difficult and unbelievable angles.

Euron originally wanted the entire army to make another desperate push and advance, but the news and fact of the appearance of the serf army were no longer something that the lords and nobles could cover up or suppress.

The Iron Islands lords had accepted the fact that remaining there would likely result in their total annihilation.

It would be better to leave now and preserve some of our strength.

Some lords had already left and were about to evacuate with their soldiers even before receiving Balon's permission.

Euron knew that if things continued this way, Greyjoy's prestige would be gone, and this was not the time to kill.

He looked at his younger brother, Aeron, as if he had made up his mind.

"Aeron!"

"Huh?" Aeron instinctively shuddered, his pupils trembling uncontrollably as he looked at Euron.

"You take our brother and leave. I'll cover the rear and buy you some time!" With that, Euron gestured to the mute servant standing beside him, signaling them to come to Aeron and Balon's side.

"Go! Go quickly!"

Aeron looked at Euron's resolute face, then at the faces of the mute servants flickering in the firelight, and fled with Balon as if escaping.