He spent three days taking stock of the army.
Three days.
The final tally was this: out of a hundred and fifty thousand men, only two thousand were cavalry. A thousand of those had been drawn from House Hightower's soldiers, while the remaining thousand were down-and-out riders and sellsword knights who had appeared from who knew where.
Some rode packhorses and wore ragged chainmail, and even they counted among the better-equipped men.
The archers were worse off: only three thousand men, made up of poachers and hunters.
Their bows came in every imaginable variety: longbows, hunting bows, and a few flimsy contraptions.
Baelor doubted those things could pierce a thick quilted coat.
He formed those three thousand men into a separate archery unit and placed a veteran of House Hightower in command. At least they had some semblance of organization now.
As for the infantry-Baelor did not want to spare them another glance.
He drew a deep breath, his gaze drifting involuntarily toward the Holy Sword Knights on his left.
Their order and majesty were like a thorn stabbing at his eyes.
Just then, the sound of hooves came from within Oldtown.
Baelor turned.
A carriage bearing the heraldry of House Hightower was passing through the city gate toward him.
Randyll Tarly, Earl Peake, Earl Rowan, Earl Crane, and the others rode alongside the carriage.
The carriage stopped before the two armies, and the earls drew closer as well, surveying the two starkly different forces as though inspecting them.
Baelor's gaze settled on Randyll Tarly.
The renowned commander, whose name was known throughout the Seven Kingdoms, sat astride a black warhorse.
He wore plate armor engraved with the striding huntsman of his house, making him look all the more upright and imposing, even though he was no longer young.
Randyll