[Chapter Size: 4100 Words.]
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Third Person POV
Reach, 300 AC.
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Before the sun had even risen, with the torches still burning, Jon walked through the castle courtyard. His departure had already alerted the entire castle, with Lady Durwell herself coming to see him off along with everyone else.
"Are you certain you have to leave now, Your Majesty?" she asked in the courtyard.
Her daughter looked at him, despite being sleepy, with clear apprehension, as if she didn't want him to leave.
Lady Durwell couldn't understand how her daughter, Alyssa, could have grown so attached to the foreign king in such a short time. Or perhaps she could. After all, he had saved both of them when the enemy's intention had been to commit an atrocity so they could blame someone else in the eyes of the realm.
She knew very well what her fate would have been. She would not have been granted the mercy of a quick death. First, she would have been violated in the most brutal ways imaginable, and only afterward killed, so they could then report to the rest of the realm that the Arcticans had been responsible.
Just thinking about it made her tremble with fear. Ever since that night, she couldn't even sleep without being tormented by nightmares and thoughts of what might have happened to her and her daughter.
In the end, she should thank that man with all the strength she possessed. It was thanks to him that they had been saved.
Even if, in a way, she believed she didn't deserve it. But that no longer mattered.
She had seen a dragon flying over her castle after more than 170 years without any soaring above Westeros... She had seen beasts slaughtering men, just as she had heard of the horrors of Oldtown years ago... A form of sorcery that had once existed only in ancient tales.
She had also seen a man who moved faster than anyone else, cutting down his enemies with ease, slaughtering them no matter how surrounded he was. She had seen that same man appear after blasting a door apart with flames...
Some among the castle's people were already saying that the king standing before them was no longer human. And certainly, the claims that he was the greatest warrior in the world were not mere propaganda spread by the Arcticans.
She decided that she would repay that debt somehow. For her daughter's life, for her own life, and for the lives of at least half the people in the castle who had still survived.
She would tell the truth. She would say that it had been Lannister men who committed that atrocity and that the Arcticans had saved everyone.
She would lie to no one. Not even to her own husband. Even if he ordered her otherwise or even raised his hand against her, she would never deny the truth.
She was more attracted to him than ever before; at that moment, he was her hero. But she knew the king had already set his boundaries. He didn't seem very interested in her. He was most likely thinking about the wives waiting for him at home. She stood no chance, and she could understand that.
"We've done our part. Now I have matters to attend to in the south."
"It's a shame. You are a hero in our eyes, King in the North..." Durwell said in a gentle tone.
"I am not a hero. I slaughtered men and even women in this war. I'm not a good person, but I certainly don't kill my enemies without good reason. I did that to the people of the Iron Islands after discovering that Ironborn must be wiped out because they are a plague. The Freys were also about to commit one of the greatest offenses against the gods. I had no intention of letting them live. But an atrocity like this... I would never allow it. Not in my lands," he said.
Westeros, its people, and even its nobility belonged to him.
It was only a matter of time before every kingdom bent the knee once he claimed the throne.
"Anyway, I'm leaving. I still have a war to fight today. I need to deal with the army to the south of here," he said.
Lady Durwell simply nodded. Alyssa, however, ran forward before anyone could stop her and wrapped her arms around Jon's legs.
"Will you come back?" she asked anxiously.
Perhaps her father's absence for so many moons had made it easy for her to see Jon as a fatherly and protective figure from the very first time they met. And the events of the previous night had only strengthened that bond even further.
Jon shook his head. "Unfortunately, it will be impossible for me to return here unless it is truly necessary. I still have a war to fight, little Alyssa." He crouched down in front of the girl.
She gave him a sad smile, her eyes slightly watery.
"I can't say that I'll see you again. It will be very difficult. But I'm sure you'd like to visit King's Landing, wouldn't you?" he asked with a smile.
"Why don't you come there when I'm crowned king? I'll summon lords from all across the West to bend the knee before me, and you'll certainly come with your mother."
Alyssa looked surprised and turned to her mother. Lady Durwell, although somewhat uncomfortable with the remark, simply nodded. After all, Jon's victory meant defeat for the Reach, since they were enemies at that moment.
What he had done there had been nothing more than an act of mercy. Judging by the rumors coming from the North and by what he had done to the western castles, Jon could very well have destroyed that castle along with everyone inside it.
The girl pushed all those thoughts aside and broke into a cheerful smile when she saw her mother's nod. "Then I'll go to King's Landing!" she said excitedly.
Who had never dreamed of visiting King's Landing, the capital? The little girl knew that her two brothers were in King's Landing and that the Arcticans would probably encounter them soon, and she hoped to see them, though that could also turn into something terrible...
Jon gave her a sad smile at that. He could only hope that the two brothers of this little girl would not end up falling to an Arctican sword, leaving her devastated by such news. That was a very real possibility.
On the battlefield, Jon slaughtered any man standing before him, regardless of the sigil displayed on his armor or the helmet he wore. His men were no different.
After that, Jon stood up. "Then I'm leaving. I wish you all peaceful lives, Lady Durwell, little Alyssa... and you, Ser Sigma Flowers, keep the two of them safe."
The knight nodded proudly.
Jon turned to leave, his footsteps echoing through the courtyard. Outside, Eragon was already waiting, visible to everyone near the castle entrance.
Jon didn't even head for the gate. He simply climbed the stairs to the top of the walls and leaped straight onto the dragon. He landed on one of the dragon's wings, advanced toward the saddle as Eragon pulled away from the wall, and soon afterward took flight.
The enormous wings beat powerfully, creating powerful gusts of wind as the gigantic creature shot across the sky.
The sun had finally begun to rise, and it didn't take long for them to reach the vast plain. They quickly passed over the Arctican army, which was already marching south.
The soldiers had awakened at dawn, dismantled the camp, and begun advancing with the intention of finally attacking the enemy from the rear.
Jon did not land there. As soon as he had awakened, he had already sent letters to his commanders, and his men were marching exactly as planned.
He kept flying. About twenty kilometers later, he found the enemy army and the other five thousand Arcticans.
Jon looked down. His men were also approaching in the distance. The letters had reached the commanders without any Lannister scouts noticing, thanks to the ravens taking routes far from the archers who kept watching the skies for them. Every kind of bird was shot down as it approached the enemy camp.
Eragon let out a low growl. Jon smiled.
"We're not going to attack them... but we can do something quite interesting first, my friend." As he spoke, he gave the command, and Eragon made a wide circle over the battlefield.
Eragon opened his mouth and began releasing massive waves of mist across the sky. It quickly began spreading through magic.
It wasn't his Frost Roar, but a different ability, one capable of creating a thick, icy fog. The mist was cast directly over the land, astonishing every man below as they watched clouds descend from the sky, large enough to cover the entire plain.
Within moments, it blanketed the whole region.
Kevan watched with a furrowed brow as the fog seemed to come alive around the entire army.
"This is bad," one of the men said.
"I know. We can't see anything beyond a hundred meters," Kevan replied with a tense expression. "Where did this fog come from?"
He had no idea, and all he could see above was the sunlight behind the fog. It was extremely worrying.
They had completely lost sight of the enemy and even of the massive hill. Perhaps, at that moment, the dragon could even circle freely through the sky, as long as it didn't make too much noise with the beating of its wings.
Jon returned first to the army in the north. He found Arya watching him arrive. There were still many unresolved matters between the two of them, but neither of them said a single word about yesterday.
They simply turned their attention back to the task ahead... Facing the Lannisters.
Now that they had entered Oakheart once again, there was no room left for distractions.
A short while later, Jon returned to the southern camp.
Meanwhile, the Lannister soldiers were growing increasingly uneasy, feeling the chill of the fog. It wasn't freezing, but it caused a constant discomfort.
The men of Arctic, on the other hand, were already accustomed to the harsh training exercises outside the walls of Arctic, where the true winter lay. To them, that fog was merely refreshing. Even without wearing coats, they showed no sign of discomfort.
"Scouts! Move closer to the enemy. The moment you notice any movement, return immediately!" Kevan shouted to his men.
There weren't many options besides risking a few scouts. The soldiers knew it was practically a death sentence.
No one wanted to advance blindly toward the enemy. But they had no choice. Kevan had already beheaded two men before the others finally stopped protesting about being sent to die.
The situation was difficult. The army was already shaken by the events of the previous day.
Kevan hoped only to hold his position, preventing any enemy advance. But the fog was beginning to completely ruin his plans.
Meanwhile, Jon watched the giants' movements. He still wouldn't send the human soldiers, hoping to weaken the enemy even further using only his greatest warriors.
Hours had already passed since Kevan had sent out the scouts. And the giants finally began marching up the hill. The ground was still littered with yesterday's corpses.
The wargs kept the battlefield under constant surveillance, using small animals to observe any approaching movement.
The moment they detected an enemy, they relayed the information. They began locating every scout coming toward them.
The archers simply waited. They listened for the sound of horses moving through the fog.
The scouts couldn't even get close enough. As soon as one was spotted, an archer would already have his bow aimed in that direction. The next instant, an arrow pierced through the fog and buried itself in the scout's neck.
They were cut down quickly, before they could even see who had killed them. It was a terrifying ordeal for all those men.
"Let's begin."
At Jon's command, the giants immediately began marching forward.
They carried shields and swords on their backs, but above all, their enormous bows.
The siege weapons were also mounted on wheels, and the giants pushed them effortlessly across the battlefield. The sound of their footsteps was soon noticed.
Kevan was still speaking with his men when he heard the thunderous footsteps. His expression immediately darkened.
"Form ranks!" he began shouting.
He was already frustrated enough that more than a hundred scouts had vanished. He kept sending new groups, but the horses returned alone, nudging along bodies with arrows lodged in their heads or necks. Others simply disappeared into the fog and never returned.
But that sound of approaching footsteps finally revealed that the enemy was advancing. The problem was that he didn't even know from which direction they were coming.
The fog completely blanketed the battlefield. Kevan cursed the gods for that damned mist.
At least this time, the entire army was prepared. Every man wore armor, held his weapon and shield, and remained facing south.
Then... The footsteps stopped within the fog...
Kevan, Jaime, and the others remained silent, unable to tell what was happening.
Now there was only silence... And the waiting was unnerving.
The chill of the fog and the tension made many of the men tremble. Even Jaime felt his throat go dry.
The enemy had only half the numbers of his army. But after what had happened the day before, that no longer seemed like an advantage at all.
Amid the silence, something finally happened. A loud crack of a whip echoed in the distance.
Kevan's eyes widened. "Shields!" he shouted, already knowing what was coming.
Even through the fog, it was possible to see enormous objects being launched into the sky. They rose so high that they passed in front of the sun, casting massive shadows before beginning to fall directly onto the camp.
The next instant, the men, who had expected a volley of ordinary arrows, were met with a horrifying sight.
The arrows were over a meter long and incredibly heavy. When they struck the first shields, the shields themselves held, but the soldiers' arms did not.
The weight and force of those projectiles shattered their bones while hurling them backward. Screams erupted immediately.
Some arrows even pierced through the shields, impaling the men behind them. The entire defensive formation began collapsing within moments in a way no one had expected.
"My arm!"
"Ahhh!"
Cries of terror echoed across the battlefield. As they watched their comrades fall, many soldiers began abandoning the formation.
"What are you doing? Get back into formation!" Kevan shouted.
But more men kept falling. It didn't matter if they managed to block the shot. The overwhelming force of those massive arrows was enough to break their arms even when the shield withstood the impact.
"Gods..." Kevan swallowed hard, his eyes filled with terror as he realized they had no way to defend themselves against those arrows.
It wasn't enough that the enemy possessed explosive weapons. Now those arrows were simply tearing apart the entire defensive formation. Even if a soldier managed to block one, he would practically lose the use of his arm.
It was the same as being struck by the arrow itself, since he was taken out of the fight either way. Thus, they lost more than a thousand men in the first two volleys of arrows.
Kevan looked to the south, unable to see anything beyond the fog. Ignoring the screams, he gritted his teeth.
"Prepare to advance!" he finally ordered. They didn't have many alternatives.
They had to reach the enemy. If they remained where they were, the army would simply be destroyed.
Through the fog, he could still see a few birds flying across the sky. Orders quickly spread through the army as the men prepared themselves.
Another volley of arrows was launched.
The shields were raised, but once again, hundreds of men were taken out of the fight, screaming for help as their arms were shattered by the sheer force of the impacts.
"Are you going?" Kevan asked Jaime.
Jaime nodded. "Let me lead them."
"Very well. Ten thousand men. I'll be right behind you," Kevan replied.
Jaime immediately began issuing orders to the massive cavalry already assembled behind the shields.
"We're going to destroy them! If we have any chance at all, we'll have to reach them. Otherwise, we'll die here." There was no longer any need to persuade anyone.
Either they stayed where they were and died, or they charged. They might still die, but at least they would have the opportunity to face the enemy.
The group roared. The first wave of cavalry charged forward, with Jaime leading the way, wielding the Valyrian steel sword forged from the Stark sword, making the earth tremble beneath the weight of thousands of horses.
Then another thunderous crack echoed in the distance. The Arcticans spotted the charge and quickly unleashed thousands of smaller arrows with their dwarven machines, capable of firing hundreds of arrows at once.
The projectiles struck the cavalry head-on. Men and horses began falling one after another.
At the same time, the heavy sounds of footsteps and movement came from within the fog. Jaime realized they were now less than five hundred meters from the enemy's main force.
No one had noticed. The fog had completely concealed the distance between the two armies.
But as the mist began to thin, they finally saw the enemy.
Jaime's eyes widened, for barely a hundred meters ahead, the entire enemy line became visible.
It was a wall of giants already waiting for them.
Each one carried a colossal shield, nearly four meters tall, larger than any man and resembling a small mobile wall.
The horses panicked, but it was already too late.
The momentum of the charge made it impossible to stop. What happened next caused Jaime to lose consciousness.
His horse slammed violently into one of the enormous shields.
The impact hurled him backward. The last sounds he heard were men screaming, horses neighing, and the deafening crash of thousands of bodies being thrown to the ground.
Then everything went dark. The formation consisted of five hundred giants.
Each giant held a shield in front of him, while another giant stood directly behind, bracing it to absorb the force of the cavalry charge and prevent it from being pushed backward.
Even protected by their armor, the collision was still brutal. The force of a horse galloping at full speed was enough to break their arms, something not even a giant could endure with ease.
Even so, that wall became virtually impenetrable. Men and horses began piling up in front of the shield line, screaming as they were crushed.
Some horses even managed to get past the wall, leaping over piles of corpses.
But that only earned them an even swifter death. On the other side, the Arcticans were already waiting for them.
The riders and their mounts were cut down the moment they crossed the line. Before they had even reached that wall of shields, around two thousand men had already been killed, while another two thousand had been put out of combat by the giants' arrows.
The thousands of remaining cavalrymen tried to flank the formation, but they were met by the Arctican archers. Positioned just behind the line of giants, they fired without pause.
At a distance of just over a hundred meters, even with the fog, almost no arrow missed its target.
Kevan could hear the screams in the distance. He heard the horses neighing in agony. His expression only grew even darker.
"My lord... we still have a chance. We must face them now."
"Shouldn't we retreat? We can't defeat them," one of his commanders said cautiously.
"We can't. If we retreat now, we'll lose our allies in King's Landing," Kevan replied.
"Thirty thousand men are not worth a hundred thousand allies from the Reach."
He quickly began reorganizing the troops. This time, it would be the infantry advancing onto the battlefield.
"My lord! My lord!" a man suddenly shouted. An arrow was lodged in his shoulder, and blood streamed down as he ran desperately through the rear of the camp.
"What is it? What happened to you?!" Kevan asked.
The soldier struggled to catch his breath. "While patrolling the outskirts... I saw..."
"What did you see?"
"My lord... a cavalry force is coming from the rear! They're here!" Kevan's eyes widened.
All the officers around him turned pale as well.
At that very moment, a war horn echoed from behind the army.
The next instant... The ground began to tremble.
The thunderous roar of thousands of hooves pounding the earth rapidly drew closer.
Everyone understood, at the same time, exactly what that sound meant.
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