A cavalry force of roughly three thousand men was directly and forcefully split by Kal into five cavalry units.
One unit, the largest, numbering up to a thousand men, was led by Jon. Two other cavalry units, each consisting of six hundred riders, were respectively commanded by Sandor Clegane, the Hound, and Arys Oakheart.
These three units formed a triangular formation and, accompanied by a small number of infantry retainers, were dispersed and stationed at a distance of about two hundred and fifty meters from the main army.
From afar, they clearly served the purpose of shielding the main force from behind.
As for the remaining roughly eight hundred cavalrymen, Kal deployed them to the left and right flanks alongside the main army. The two men in command of them were Garlan Tyrell and Balon Swann.
As for Bronn, Kal placed him in the central force to provide support. When it came to cavalry warfare, this man of mercenary origin had no experience at all, nor did he possess any relevant knowledge.
To this, Kal merely patted him on the shoulder and said nothing more. He believed that this mercenary understood his intent.
In this way, Kal simply completed the arrangement of his army and quietly awaited good news.
On the plains, judged purely by terrain, it could not be said that the situation offered any particular advantage to Kal, but neither could it be said that it offered him no advantage at all.
In an environment where one could see to the very edge at a glance, even if Randyll Tarly wished to rely on the advantages of troop types to launch a surprise attack, there was little he could do.
What was more, several hundred scouts had already spread throughout the surrounding area. The moment there was any movement at any location, the corresponding horn calls and signal flares would immediately transmit the warning.
And as an additional precaution, Kal also required his entire army to rest while fully armored.
As for fatigue tactics built upon this foundation, Kal had also made specific arrangements. The retainers accompanying the three cavalry units would not directly participate in their battles. Their purpose was to ensure that these mounted lords could rest well.
After making all the arrangements, all that remained for Kal was to wait patiently.
He was, in fact, also curious as to what kind of outcome his first clash with Randyll Tarly would ultimately produce.
Was it that this famed commander of Westeros truly stood a cut above the rest, or had he himself already read the enemy's moves in advance?
He was curious whether Randyll Tarly could truly stop him, wear him down, or even halt him completely before he reached Highgarden, handing him an outright military defeat.
Or was it that this famed commander was in fact unworthy of his reputation, only to be defeated by him and become the stepping stone to his own renown?
Therefore, unless it was absolutely necessary, in this battle Kal did not wish to make himself the counterweight on the scales that decided the outcome of the war.
From this moment on, it was impossible for him to always act personally at the forefront.
Because as his power continued to grow, he also needed those under his command to be capable and to dare to be used.
If everything required him to do it himself, then what need was there for him to sit upon the throne at all?
He had to cultivate Jon and the others, to the point that they could even stand on their own.
This was a necessary part of his subsequent plans, and also a test and a process of selection for Jon and the others.
He could not be everyone's nursemaid, so these limited costs were a price he also had to pay.
Thus, in this war, Kal placed himself only in the position of a decision-maker.
Unless it was necessary, he would no longer easily step in to intervene.
After issuing his orders and making the necessary preparations, as night fell, Kal vanished soundlessly into his own army.
He first made a circuit to inspect all of his arrangements, observing whether each order had been properly conveyed after being issued.
Upon discovering some insignificant flaws, he did not point them out. Instead, he continued outward, inspecting the cavalry units led by Jon and the others.
After completing the entire inspection, Kal continued onward toward the front.
"With these arrangements, on this kind of terrain, if Randyll Tarly truly wants to accomplish anything, he cannot avoid my first line of defense."
"Under these circumstances, if Randyll Tarly wants to attack me, using cavalry is the correct path."
"Only the mobility of cavalry can break through the defensive line I have laid out and cause disruption to me."
"It is just unknown whether Randyll Tarly will choose to fight a night battle and launch a surprise attack on me in the dark."
"If he has such an idea, then only by taking advantage of the cover of night would there be a chance."
Walking within the night, Kal admired the night scenery and felt the night wind as he quietly muttered to himself about the matters at hand.
He did not know whether Randyll Tarly would attack him under cover of darkness, but he did not rule out that this man truly might carry out such an action.
So he was quite looking forward to it.
Several hundred sentries were deployed outward, spreading across a considerable distance on the vast plain. This was a line of vigilance that Randyll Tarly could not avoid.
As for Kal himself, he had already arrived outside Randyll Tarly's army.
He sat in a large tree not far from the force, in a very good mood, gnawing on a wild boar chop he had taken out of his inventory as a midnight snack.
As for the sentry who should originally have been stationed in that tree, his neck had already been quietly twisted off by Kal. At this moment, the body was hanging from a tree branch, swaying in the wind like a strip of air-dried cured meat.
This was an excellent observation point.
Although the red comet in the sky had long since disappeared, and the moonlight tonight was not particularly bright—often obscured by dark clouds—for Kal, who had long been taking vampire potions and had already gained the gift of night vision, seeing clearly in the darkness was not a difficult matter at all.
Meanwhile, within the Reach army, Randyll Tarly, serving as the vanguard commander, was listening to the reports brought back by the scouts he had dispatched.
After remaining silently contemplative for a while, he then issued several more orders.
Randyll Tarly had a bald head, a gray-white bushy beard on his chin, and together with his piercing gaze and a cold, stern face he always habitually wore, he appeared rather unsmiling.
As his orders were carried out, this cavalry force of roughly five thousand men, specifically dispatched as a vanguard, simply settled down to rest.
Aside from the sentries on duty, the night became utterly quiet.
Noticing this, Kal, who was crouched on the tree branch, had a look of amusement appear in his eyes.
The night wind blew, accompanied by the chirping of insects and calls of birds from the fields and wildlands, and time passed quickly.
Then, when there was still some time before dawn, the rapid ringing of copper bells used for cowbells suddenly sounded.
After that, the resting army abruptly became lively.
The retainers fed the horses, prepared food, and went about their tasks.
Only after they had served the mounted lords until they were well fed and satisfied did their work come to an end.
Soon after, torches became the source of light, converging into a river, and the time arrived at the darkest moment before dawn.
Next, as soon as this river of torches began to move, it split into three branches—one in the center and two on the flanks.
As they advanced and spread out, they gradually took on a semi-encircling formation, slowly pressing toward the force where Kal was located.
Kal found it interesting and hurried to follow.
The sky gradually brightened, but there was still some time to go before the sun rose.
But this force had already closed to within approximately nine and a half kilometers of the army where Kal was positioned.
Early-warning posts concealed throughout the area suddenly raised the alarm. Horn calls rang out one after another from every direction, relaying the signal toward the central army.
Yet despite their movements being detected, the three cavalry units advancing from different directions did not slow. Instead, they even picked up the pace slightly.
It was as if their earlier speed had merely been a warm-up, a chance to stretch and to work off the food they had just eaten.
Then, as they pressed ever closer, the horn calls grew sharper and more urgent, and clusters of signal flares rose one after another.
The sound of trotting hooves turned into a rapid clatter, like rain striking the ground.
"Could it be that Randyll Tarly intends to decide everything in a single blow?"
"Such audacity?"
"Or does he truly look down on me that much?"
Kal, who at some point had also blended into this charging cavalry force, looked at the situation before him and could not help muttering in a low voice.
At this moment, he wore ordinary armor, with a helmet on his head and the visor lowered.
As for the warhorse beneath him, it had not noticed at all that the original rider on its back had already had his skull quietly crushed and been replaced by someone else.
It only panted heavily, charging forward in excitement.
The horizon had begun to take on a faint bluish tint, the dim light casting wavering shadows of figures.
The glow of the torches gathered into a river of stars, and the thunderous roar of hooves was like torrential rain pounding on ice.
In this half-bright, half-dark light before dawn, everything ahead was indistinct, leaving only a heart-gripping sense of momentum advancing from afar.
Sensing that this atmosphere was nothing like a mere probe, Kal turned his head to glance at a knight not far from him, clad in a green cloak.
That man was likewise positioned toward the rear of the formation, yet a cavalry detachment of around thirty riders was constantly guarding him.
Around him, banners bearing a green field with a red huntsman's device fluttered in the wind—the sigil of House Tarly.
And the man Kal was looking at was none other than the Lord of Horn Hill himself, Randyll Tarly.
Looking at Randyll Tarly beside him, Kal found it interesting, because he had misjudged Randyll Tarly's intentions as well.
Before receiving the challenge, he had also believed that on this stretch of road—only about one hundred and forty-four kilometers remaining before Highgarden—Randyll Tarly would, with high probability, merely test and wear him down in order to assess his current fighting strength.
Then their final battle would most likely be decided beneath Highgarden, or rather, it would be settled before the Mander.
After all, Kal knew very well that what he had displayed when attacking Old Oak would certainly be passed along.
Information like that was absolutely worth his enemy's careful probing.
But what Kal had not expected was that on the very first night after delivering his challenge, Randyll Tarly had already made plans to decide everything in a single blow.
He actually intended to use this vanguard force of fewer than about six thousand men to take him down outright, without any probing at all. Such audacity and resolve—Kal could not help but marvel at it.
From afar, Kal could already see that in the distance there were also three cavalry units in a triangular formation waiting. Three clusters of torchlight, gathering and dispersing, marked their positions.
"It seems that challenge letter was nothing but a cover. No—rather, that challenge letter was part of Randyll Tarly's tactical interference against me."
"Our clash started long ago. He wants to exploit this kind of negligence rooted in common sense, and seize the chance to take me down in one stroke."
"Interesting. Interesting."
"Good thing I was guarding against this move as well."
Kal, relying beside Randyll Tarly's personal guard, muttered to himself in the dark.
Faced with Randyll Tarly's tactic of deliberately going against expectations on the psychological level, he felt a kind of pleasure, as if a chess move had landed exactly where it should.
This kind of pleasure was nothing like the "miracles" he displayed on the battlefield through sheer personal force. It was a stimulation of mutual contest in intellect.
After figuring out Randyll Tarly's thinking, Kal grew somewhat more expectant. He continued his quiet actions.
This was also good—better for honing Jon and the others' ability to adapt on the spot.
After all, he had also mentioned this kind of strategic and tactical conception during the pre-battle meeting.
Kal no longer cared whether Jon and the others could win against Randyll Tarly under these circumstances, but if they could not even hold steady—if their response was a complete mess—then Kal would have to seriously evaluate their abilities.
And at this moment, on the other side of the battlefield, in the dim light, facing the three surging torrents rushing toward them, Jon White Wolf, together with Ghost at his side, watched the front with a grave expression.
With visibility like this, he simply could not see clearly how many enemies there were ahead.
All he could see was torchlight swaying like a river of stars, and the thunderous roar of hooves merging into one continuous sound.
And most importantly, faced with the situation before him, Jon felt an inexplicable sense of unease deep in his heart.
Suppressing the panic within, Jon drew in a deep breath of cold air, steadied himself, and frowned, always feeling that something was not quite right.
"Strange—" Jon murmured instinctively, raising his head to scan the surroundings as his mind raced in analysis.
Then, all of a sudden, the gray pupils that reflected the river of starlike torchlight abruptly widened, a sharp glint flashing within them.
"Wait—three-pronged advance, left and right flanks for encirclement, the center for a direct breakthrough!"
"This kind of tactic is meant to swallow us whole!"
"Damn it—this isn't a probe at all! This is a decisive battle!"
"Pass the order—execute Plan Three, execute Plan Three!"
Realizing the situation before him and recalling the various response plans Kal had laid out while arranging the tactics yesterday, Jon issued the command immediately, without the slightest hesitation.
The messenger who had been waiting at his side raised the horn in his hand at once upon receiving the order, gathered all his strength, and blew it forcefully.
And during the sounding, he also pressed several holes on the horn, producing signals of differing rhythms.
The horn sounded, and the entire army sprang into action.
The wedge-shaped cavalry detachments that had originally taken up a frontal stance to meet the enemy were immediately split in two.
Among them, the thousand-strong cavalry unit led personally by Jon—the largest in number—spurred their mounts at once, veered off, and galloped toward the left, angling diagonally toward the cavalry on Randyll Tarly's right wing to strike them across the middle.
Although his own numbers were still fewer than this force of roughly two thousand riders at a glance, there was nonetheless an air of fearless advance on Jon's face.
Because once he had grasped Randyll Tarly's intentions, he already knew that there was no path of retreat left to him.
When warriors meet on a narrow path, the brave prevail. When the enemy had already shown such resolve, if they dared to hesitate or shrink back, then the only thing awaiting them would be defeat.
As for the remaining two cavalry units apart from the one led by Jon, they likewise received the order. Understanding clearly what kind of situation they were facing, the two units—each originally only six hundred strong—closed in instantly, merging the scattered into a single concentrated force.
Turning, he galloped off in the direction opposite to Jon's, charging toward the cavalry of Randyll Tarly that was sweeping in to envelop his own right wing.
With the horn sounding for only a brief instant, the cavalry unit that should have been intercepting Randyll Tarly head-on instead split apart to the left and right, each moving to deal with the enemies on the flanks, leaving the center completely open.
Faced with this sudden change in formation by Kal's army, even Randyll Tarly—who was positioned along the flank of the central force and had a clear angle from which to observe the entire battlefield—was momentarily stunned.
Looking at the enemy's response before him, he simply could not fathom why, against the crushing force of his own center, the enemy's final choice was to leave the middle wide open.
A tactic that deliberately exposed one's most vulnerable belly?
Was that not suicide?
Randyll Tarly, who had initially heard the horn and thought Kal's army had realized his intentions, could not help but glare angrily at the opposing force.
Because the enemy's response was entirely beyond his expectations.
With such a tactic, once he drove a single blow straight through their infantry formation and then split his force in two after penetrating the line—each half going to support the left and right flanks to encircle and crush their cavalry—he could reduce the army before him, tens of thousands strong, to ashes in an instant.
By then, with infantry in complete disarray, and cavalry outnumbered many times over by his own, there would be no possibility whatsoever of resistance under the devastating killing power of his cavalry.
The final outcome would be that, relying on the mobility of his all–light cavalry, all he needed to do was carry out the dull, methodical work of pursuit and encirclement, striking as he chased, slowly but surely gnawing away at this army until it was completely annihilated.
"Has Kal Baratheon gone mad?" he blurted out. "How can anyone deploy an army formation like this?"
Watching the enemy's response, Randyll Tarly—also charging forward on horseback—truly could not understand it.
This could not help but give rise to a doubt in his mind. "Could it be that Kal Baratheon is—nothing more than a name without substance?"
"But when Kal Baratheon was on the battlefields of the Riverlands and King's Landing, he never committed such errors!"
"One must know that under his command, even Sam dared to draw his sword on the battlefield—"
"Then why is this so?"
Randyll Tarly very easily grasped the situation of the battle before him.
With just a single glance, he saw through how the fighting would develop from here on.
And yet precisely because of this, Randyll Tarly could never have imagined that victory would come so easily, for in his understanding, Kal Baratheon could not possibly be this inept.
Indeed, both this surprise attack and the challenge letter he had sent earlier were decisive choices he had made after weighing all factors, precisely in order to guard against Kal Baratheon pulling such a move.
For according to what he knew, every victory Kal Baratheon had won on the battlefield had been brought about by that man's extraordinary personal combat strength.
The battle for Old Oak had been a living example.
But as he thought on it, suddenly Randyll Tarly seemed to realize something.
"Wait."
"That's it—Kal Baratheon has never had experience with wars of this scale."
"His strength, and the factors behind his victories on the battlefield, all rely on the advantages radiated by his personal martial power. That allows him to deliver devastating lethality in small-scale, localized engagements."
"However, when it comes to this kind of large, collective battle, and this sort of tactical contest, he has never had any experience."
"Even in the battle for Old Oak, Kal relied on this very method to win."
Randyll Tarly's thoughts raced, and his earlier doubts were resolved in an instant.
And upon realizing this, a trace of cruel satisfaction gradually surfaced on his stern face.
"All forces, advance!"
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