(Third-person perspective)
Aermir emerged from the forest with his infantry and cavalry, able to charge into the unsuspecting flank of the Ruthermont. His 500 infantrymen followed closely behind. The cavalry, charging in from the flank, found no trouble and began to move in large circles like millstones.
In this way, they could charge in and out continuously without getting caught in the melee. Of course, their movements weren't like a well-functioning machine, because this was their first cavalry charge, and some men fell from their horses with each charge; most of the time, their charges were clumsy. Aermir was the complete opposite of his cavalry. He wielded two massive axes, charging left and right. He was like a beast. His infantry had already rushed in front of him and began hacking and slashing at the enemy. With each swing, he reaped many lives.
"Monster!"
"For the sake of the Seven, Stranger have come to arrest us!"
"Father, please protect us!"
The soldiers' cries rose and fell. He was unusual; they struck him with all their might, but each time he retaliated. His armor was riddled with holes, yet he bled not. To the soldiers, it was a horrifying sight; their fear grew with each passing moment.
Aermir's condition was also less than ideal. His Superman strength helped him withstand the force of blunt objects, but even a drop of water could shatter a boulder. He was beginning to tire, and his body ached all over. He had to keep going in order to minimize casualties.
During the battle, he threw an axe, the massive blade carving a destructive line in his path. A knight from the House Lynderly charged, striking Aermir in the shoulder with his sword, but failing to force him back. Aermir turned and delivered a powerful punch to the knight, sending his head flying off.
All the soldiers were stunned by what they saw, but Aermir did not stop there. He punched another knight in the chest. The man's plate armor collapsed, and the sound of breaking ribs could be heard. He flew backward like an arrow, knocking down many people; this was the final blow that crushed the Vale People.
The House Lynderly was surrounded on three sides. They had already charged into the main position of the Mountain Legion, then Aermir used his infantry to shake them off, and finally, his remaining cavalry charged in circles from the rear.
Their only way out was to retreat to the open ground to the east, but Aermir and his cavalry would not allow them to retreat unless they killed as many of them as possible.
Every family in the Vale of Arryn lost most of their army; they were utterly defeated. Aermir forbade the razing of villages except for their crops, as he needed the moral high ground when he joined as Druid.
The Mountain Clans stole all the crops they could carry and burned the rest. Aermir's familiars prevented the news from spreading out of the Vale of Arryn, so they had no need to worry. Some families preferred to burn their own fields rather than let the mountain tribes steal their crops.
For Aermir, it didn't matter whether the crops fell into the hands of the Vale, burned, or stolen by the mountain people. He had already arranged for many agents of the Dark Raven Guard in the Vale, acting as traveling merchants and bards.
Then he could spread rumors that the nobles were feasting while the common people were starving. A week later, everything was ready, Aermir lifted the blockade, and the events in the Vale spread like Wildfire among the Vale.
Jon Arryn had a bad feeling; he had been utterly defeated by the Druid. Aermir Drasil sent a Crow, saying that all the lands he had conquered were his because of the incursions of the Three Sisters and the House Parren. He had no intention of returning them. Jon angrily tore the paper to shreds.
"That brat! He acts like he's won the war! The Druid basically packaged these islands for him. What I don't understand is, if they weren't planning on fighting, why are they imprisoning our troops on Paps? I have a bad feeling."
Eric, the eldest son of Lord Grafton, has taken his place in his absence, he said.
"Could they be planning to attack the Vale? I can't think of any other reason."
Jon shook his head.
"No, even Druid wouldn't be this arrogant, would they? If he invades the Vale, our people will never bow down to him; our army is ten times his size. We may have lost contact with ten thousand men on Paps, but we can gather even more."
Jon might have said that, but he began to have some doubts. He turned to the advisor and asked.
"Based on our estimated harvest and reserves, how many more soldiers can we muster?"
The man opened the large notebook in front of him and began flipping through the numbers. After a while, he said:
"We can gather another 40,000 men, but that will only last for two months. After that, we'll need to buy food from elsewhere."
Finding soldiers is not a problem. The Vale and the North have a population of about 4 million, but the Vale's strongest army only has 55,000 men, and there's a reason for that. Money and food are the reasons; to have a large army, you need enough food to feed them and enough gold to pay their wages.
They may not be as wealthy as the Lannister and House Tyrell, but thanks to the Vale of Arryn, they never need to rely on the outside for food. Hearing these figures, Jon's ominous premonition began to subside. "Lord Belmore said."
"If the North doesn't support the Druid and Drasil armies, then we have nothing to fear from them."
Eric Grafton interrupted him.
"Don't be so arrogant! That monster conquered a Citadel all by himself. I still don't believe he's shown us his true abilities."
Jon Arryn asked with a curious tone.
Why do I say that?
"Because we haven't pushed him to the brink yet, nobody has. Until then, we can't know what his limits are. Of course, I don't believe he's one of the Old Gods as the surviving soldiers say, but I also don't believe he's just a human. I believe he can be killed, but I won't underestimate a being capable of unleashing Rain of Fire."
He looked into Jon's eyes, his expression serious.
"Sir, you shouldn't underestimate him either."
Royce Coldwater slammed his fist on the table and shouted angrily at Eric Grafton.
"What are you saying? Are you suggesting we pack our bags and walk away from that brat Drasil and the Druid, abandoning everything?"
Royce Coldwater wagged his finger accusingly in front of Eric Grafton and continued.
"As a defender of faith and a knight of the Vale, where is your honor? Don't you feel ashamed to say such a thing?"
Eric was the Lord Grafton when his father was away. So he got angry and slammed his hand on the table.
"When did underestimating your opponent become a shameful thing? You can live in your fantasy world where you can defeat the Druid and reclaim the island when your fishing boat can't even reach the island without being sunk."
He turned his gaze to Jon Arryn and said.
"My lord, we should not waste our time and soldiers on pointless island battles. With the Druid possessing those wretched orcas, there's no way we can wrest those islands from him. We should be more selective and look to the future. Please don't be fooled by the sweet talk of some nobles."
Eric might be younger than them, but he was already 35, and he wouldn't tolerate the disrespect of those delusional old idiots who called themselves the Guardians of the Vale. He looked firmly into Jon's eyes and continued.
"Even if we have the Seven behind us, there are actually things behind them that we cannot understand."
Royce Coldwater grew even angrier, spitting as he shouted; he was burning with rage.
"Do you know what you're saying? You just accepted the existence of the Old Gods? Nonsense!"
This time, Eric flew into a rage and threw the wine glass in his hand to the ground.
"Is believing the Old Gods to be real blasphemy? Of course, they aren't true gods like the Seven, but they are definitely beings beyond humanity. Whether demon or god, they have the power to grant that Druid many abilities. We cannot openly fight him; it would destroy our kingdom."
He turned his gaze to the other lords and said.
"I don't believe for a second that a magician can defeat us, but what price must we pay to win this war? He can burn our fields and assassinate us in our own Citadel. Does anyone have a way to catch him when he transforms into a bird? As far as I know, the wind protects him, and arrows cannot hit him."
Everyone listened intently to what Eric had to say.
"Yes, we can certainly defeat his army and his attack dogs, Drasil, but he can come and go as he pleases and can certainly assassinate us at will."