Eight thousand armored horsemen from the Westerlands lay hidden in a dense stretch of woodland.
They had been riding hard along remote trails for hours, skirting several castles that might have held garrisons and slipping silently deep into the Crownlands.
Not far ahead, they were told, stood Duskendale, the Targaryens' first foothold upon landing in Westeros, now heavily fortified by Aegon Targaryen.
Beyond Duskendale lay their destination: the besieged castle of Stokeworth.
Here, Jaime Lannister dared not advance recklessly.
He sent out large numbers of scouts, spreading them ahead like a net. They were to assess Duskendale's defenses, while the bolder among them would try to slip past the town and approach the besieged castle to investigate.
The main cavalry force remained hidden in the woodland, taking every moment they could to rest. They fed their horses fodder and silently checked their equipment. Only stifled breathing and the occasional snort broke the stillness.
Jaime reined in his horse in a small clearing, his left hand resting on the hilt of the sword at his waist, his face as dark as a sky before a storm.
Several scouts knelt before him on one knee, covered in dust and breathing hard. Clearly, they had just galloped back.
"My lord," the lead scout said, head bowed, speaking quickly and concealing nothing, "Stokeworth's outer defenses are about to give way. The enemy is attacking fiercely, and the defenders keep falling back. The smoke is so thick it has swallowed the entire castle."
"I only dared watch from three miles away. From the look of it... the outer defenses could fall at any moment!"
Everything he reported, he had seen with his own eyes.
Thick smoke obscured the castle, and the enemy's encirclement was so tight that he could not get close, much less discover