A dozen or so leagues east of Darry Castle, a column of brightly armored troops prowled and lingered.
The young man at their head listened to his subordinate's report in icy silence.
His face was expressionless, but his gaze was grave, as though he were turning something over in his mind again and again.
This man was Jon.
Based on his earlier reconnaissance of Darry Castle, he had already identified several main roads and wilderness paths that could be used for attack and retreat.
Though Jon did not know The Mountain's exact strength, he knew The Mountain would definitely come.
And if The Mountain came, the Westerlands' heavy infantry would most likely appear as well.
If he wanted to surround and wipe out this force of heavy infantry, he had to be cautious and plan with care.
For this battle, Jon had prepared large quantities of fire oil, caltrops, earthwork sandbags, and more.
"My lord, this is only a small path. Scattering some caltrops and digging a few pits for horses should be enough to stop the enemy. But the main road to the southwest is the real problem.
"If the enemy really is a heavy armored force like the one at the Green Fork, we may not be able to hold them back on our own," Old York advised sincerely.
After all, even the North's regular army had failed to stop them that day. With the troops Jon had, it would be even less possible.
But the tribal warriors clearly disagreed. Now that they wore such fine armor, even if Jon ordered them to fight a dragon one-on-one, they would probably think they could give it a try.
"Find a way to get some jars of fire oil and bury them."
"Fire attack? That's a good idea, but my