On the high ground.
Ser Nestor Royce's face, once confident and composed, was now an ashen grey.
He saw it.
As his most elite knight order fell into disarray, the Northern Army, which was supposed to be 'routed,' stopped.
They turned, reforming their ranks.
On the flanks, the forces led by Greatjon Umber and Rickard Karstark, like two giant iron pincers, firmly sealed off their escape route.
A perfect pincer movement.
And it had rapidly closed in.
"We've been tricked..."
Nestor's lips trembled.
That Young Wolf pup had been acting the entire time!
He used a fake ambush, a fake rout, to drag his most elite knight order completely into the mud!
The slaughter began.
Heavy cavalry, having lost their speed, were like clumsy iron cans in front of the agile Northern infantry.
The Northmen had no superfluous movements.
Their longswords, battle axes, and maces struck precisely and efficiently at the gaps in the armor.
They hacked at horse legs, knocking knights to the ground.
Then, three or four fanatical Northmen, howling, swarmed forward, plunging their longswords fiercely through the visor slits of helmets and the joints of necks.
Blood flowed out of the gaps, forming dark red, winding streams on the muddy ground.
Some Knights of The Vale, driven to desperation, tried to organize a resistance.
They brandished their longswords, attempting to cut a bloody path.
But they faced an endless tide of Northern soldiers.
When one Northman fell, two immediately took his place.
There was no fear in their eyes, only a nearly numb madness.
This was the fury of the North!
"Break through! Break through to the south!"
A nobleman of The Vale screamed hoarsely, trying to rally the remaining troops.
However, his reply was a battle axe flying in from the side.
The axe spun, precisely splitting his head open.
Greatjon Umber spat out bloody saliva and pulled his axe from the corpse.
"All of you listen up, cut down whoever shouts the loudest, these are all the leaders!"
"Break through? Break through to the Seven Hells!"
The battle could no longer be called a battle.
It was a one-sided annihilation.
Nestor Royce watched helplessly as his proud cavalry fell in swathes like harvested wheat.
Finally, after suffering the heavy cost of over five thousand men, the remaining Vale army finally tore open a gap, leaving behind countless bodies of their comrades, and fled south in disarray.
These cavalrymen used the slower infantry as pawns, and most of the dead were these infantrymen.
After all, two legs, no matter how fast, couldn't outrun a warhorse's four legs.
And when fleeing, you only needed to be faster than everyone else to survive.
The situation was excellent, but Robb did not order a pursuit.
The Northern Army had also suffered considerable casualties, and he understood the principle of not pursuing a desperate foe.
He merely sat on his horse, coldly watching the backs of the fleeing soldiers, his young face stained with enemy blood, his grey eyes astonishingly bright.
"Strip them of all their weapons and equipment, then clear the battlefield and rest here!"
This was his first battle.
He won.
On the Kingsroad, corpses lay everywhere, and blood flowed like rivers.
The surviving Northern soldiers erupted in thunderous cheers, raising their weapons and shouting the name of their Young Wolf.
"Robb! Robb! Robb!"
Nestor Royce stared blankly at the hellish scene below, watching the cheering Northmen, feeling his worldview utterly shattered.
An ambush, cavalry against infantry, with an absolute topographical advantage.
How did it… suddenly turn out like this?
What was inside the head of that teenage boy?
Nestor felt a chill shoot from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head.
The North, it seemed, was no longer the North that could be manipulated at will... Meanwhile, deep within The Neck.
A hundred-meter-wide ice road snaked across this deadly swamp.
Lynn's army was silently marching on this ice road.
Aside from the heavy footsteps of giants and mammoths, and the occasional cracking of ice, there was no other sound.
Lynn walked at the very front of the team, his face somewhat pale.
Creating and maintaining such an ice road through the entire Neck was a huge drain on his mental energy.
Arya quietly walked beside him, her small hand tightly holding his.
She looked at Lynn's slightly tired profile, her eyes full of concern, but she didn't speak to disturb him.
Jon and Uncle Benjen followed behind, their shock still not having subsided.
A miracle.
Beyond that word, they couldn't think of any language to describe everything before them.
Just then, Lynn's steps suddenly halted.
A system prompt, visible only to him, slowly appeared before his eyes.
[Killed a Knight of The Vale, Experience +5]
[Killed a Vale Infantryman, Experience +2]
...A series of prompts flashed by like a waterfall.
Finally, they converged into a line of striking golden characters.
[Experience +16802]
Lynn's eyebrows raised slightly.
Sixteen thousand eight hundred and two.
It seemed Robb's side had finished their battle.
And the results were far more fruitful than he had anticipated.
In his original plan, Robb's twenty thousand bait troops were supposed to fight back and forth with The Vale army, drawing their main force and creating a stalemate, which would have already been a great victory.
As long as he could tie down the main force of The Vale and buy himself enough time, that would be victory!
But now it seemed... Robb not only held back the enemy, but he actually broke their army?
Over sixteen thousand experience points, this almost signified a complete victory in a medium-scale battle.
The 'Young Wolf,' who always seemed a bit green under his father's shadow, had actually delivered such an astonishing answer sheet in his first command.
Lynn's lips unconsciously curved upwards.
Interesting.
It seemed his convenient brother-in-law was far more talented in warfare than he had imagined.
"What's wrong?"
Arya sensed Lynn's change in mood.
"Nothing,"
Lynn squeezed her small hand, the fatigue on his face completely gone.
"Your brother gave me a little surprise."
He didn't explain further.
Now, there were more important things to do.
Lynn silently recited in his mind, bringing up his attribute panel.
[Name: Lynn]
[Strength: 22 (2%)]
[Agility: 21 (61%)]
[Constitution: 20 (0%)]
[Spirit: 36 (1%)]
[Remaining Experience: 17002.2]
Seventeen thousand experience points!
The most he had ever had.
It seemed he needed to plan carefully how to use this experience... Riverrun.
Lysa Arryn smashed a pure gold goblet fiercely to the ground.
Fine Arbor wine splashed onto the sky-blue Valyrian carpet.
"Idiots! A bunch of idiots!"
Her screams echoed under the towering dome, shrill and distorted.
The messenger kneeling before her trembled like a leaf.
He had brought back news of Ser Nestor Royce's defeat, along with a blood-stained casualty report.
An ambush, and they lost?
Twenty thousand Vale Elites, personally commanded by the most seasoned and steady Ser Nestor.
And they had the advantage of timing and terrain, to ambush a Northern infantry force led by a greenhorn.
The result was a humiliating rout, abandoning their armor and fleeing in disarray.
The knight order was almost crippled, infantry casualties exceeded five thousand, and a number of soldiers had already deserted during the escape, no one even knew where they went!
How in the hell was this possible?!
"That old man Nestor, he did it on purpose!"
Lysa's face was flushed with rage.
"He can't stand to see me do well! He deliberately lost this battle because he wanted to make a fool of me! It must be something Jon told him, or he wants to avenge Jon!"
Lysa's mind had fallen into a paranoid, dead loop.
She was already irrational, and with her paranoia and madness, it was no surprise she would lash out at anyone.
In her eyes, this defeat couldn't be a tactical problem; someone must be betraying her, everyone was out to get her.
Even Nestor, who was loyal to young Robert, was among her suspects.
Just then, Maester Colwyn shuffled in.
He held a raven that had just flown in from the north.
"My Lady,"
The Maester's voice held a hint of hesitation.
"It's... it's a letter sent by Lord Rams of The Dreadfort."
"Bolton?"
A hint of undisguised contempt flashed in Lysa's eyes.
"I told him to flee first and demoralize the internal morale."
"Not only did he fail to do that, but he has the nerve to write to me?"
Lysa snatched the letter, roughly unfolding it.
The handwriting on the letter was messy and filled with a certain urgency.
In the letter, Rams used extremely flattering language to explain his "strategic retreat," claiming he did it to preserve his strength and counter Lynn's deeper conspiracy.
"...That little wolf cub of House Stark is just a distraction, and the Northern Army under his command is bait!"
"The real threat is that king-beyond-the-wall named Lynn!"
"I have seen his monsters with my own eyes!"
"I suspect he took his monsters down another route, and his target isn't The Riverlands at all!"
"Please, My Lady, be extremely careful and guard against his tricks!"
"Hmph, tricks?"
Lysa let out a cold laugh.
She crumpled the letter into a ball and tossed it into the fireplace.
The flames instantly devoured the paper covered with "advice."
"A coward who has been scared witless dares to talk to me about tricks?"
She completely disbelieved Rams's words.
When a battle is lost, someone always has to take the blame.
In her view, the defeat of Bolton Family was the direct cause of Nestor Royce's failure.
Now, this coward wants to use this alarmist nonsense to excuse himself?
Ridiculous!
Lynn?
That wildling who climbed the ranks using a woman?
What kind of trickery could he possess?
All his power is nothing more than that fire-breathing beast.
If he dares to come, The Eyrie's natural defenses can turn his dragon into a roasted chicken!
Lysa had made up her mind.
Once the trouble in the North was resolved, the next target for reckoning would be The Dreadfort.
She wanted Roose Bolton to know the consequences of betraying the House Arryn.
However, just as she was about to order Nestor Royce to hold the Kingsroad at all costs to redeem himself, another scout stumbled and crawled into the High Hall.
The scout's face was drained of color, as if he had seen the most terrifying thing in the world.
"M-My Lady!"
He knelt on the ground, his voice shaking uncontrollably.
"I... I was on the ridge south of the Kingsroad... and I saw... I saw..."
"Saw what?!"
Lysa impatiently snapped.
"A Giant!"
The scout finally shouted, his voice filled with utter terror.
"A... a Giant made of ice!"
"It... it was taller than the highest watchtower!"
"It only showed its head from behind the ridge, and the earth trembled!"
"Its eyes... were blue flames!"
Instant silence fell inside the hall.
Only the charcoal burning in the fireplace made a "crackling" sound.
What a joke?
Just showed its head from behind the ridge?
Then how tall must it be?
Even if it were real.
Then the daily food intake of such a massive monster would be an astronomical figure.
It would probably consume the entire daily provisions of an army in a single day!
The North certainly doesn't have the capacity to feed such a giant.
This is clearly unreasonable!
Yet, the fury and contempt on Lysa's face slowly froze at that moment.
What if it's true?
She suddenly remembered Rams's warning in the letter.
"... He took his monsters down another route..."
A thought that made her shiver wildly sprouted in her mind.
It seemed Lynn really did have those monsters!
After all, he has a dragon, which is already unreasonable in the eyes of normal people.
Anything unreasonable is now plausible!
She rushed violently toward the huge map of Westeros.
Her eyes, appearing somewhat insane due to her paranoia, stared intently at the area bordering the North and The Riverlands.
Robb Stark's Northern Army is bait?!
All of this was designed to attract her attention, to attract the attention of the entire Vale!
And Lynn, that fellow she considered a wildling—his real target... Lysa's finger trembled, landing on the area of the map symbolizing the glory and rule of the House Arryn.
The Vale!
"He's crossing The Neck?"
"What... what a great Feint..."
Lysa muttered to herself.
Her voice lacked anger, replaced instead by a hint of pathological excitement.
She felt she had seen through everything.
She felt she was engaged in a silent intellectual game with Lynn, who was hiding behind the scenes.
And now, she had won.
"Did he think I, Lysa Tully, was a stupid woman who would just hide in a castle and cry?"
"Did he think his little tricks could fool me?"
A twisted and smug smile appeared on Lysa's face.
She turned and issued a series of clear and decisive orders to the attendants and knights beside her.
"Hear my command!"
"Order Nestor Royce to immediately abandon the Kingsroad, gather all remaining forces, and retreat to hold The Bloody Gate!"
"Tell him the battle for the Kingsroad is over!"
"The real enemy is approaching us from another direction!"
"Send word to that old fossil, Walder Frey!"
"Tell him that Lynn's main force has turned toward The Vale, and he should concentrate all his troops to destroy Robb Stark's isolated bait force!"
"After it's done, Riverrun will be his!"
"Order all defenders at The Bloody Gate to enter maximum alert! Block all mountain paths leading into The Vale!"
"Move all our knights, all our archers, and all our Dragon-hunting Ballistae to The Bloody Gate!"
"There, I will prepare a grand welcoming ceremony for that arrogant wildling!"
Her orders stunned everyone present.
Maester Colwyn, gathering his courage, stepped forward.
"My Lady, are we... are we really abandoning the Kingsroad?"
"That is the throat leading to The Riverlands..."
"The throat?"
Lysa interrupted him with a sneer.
"When your heart is about to be ripped out by the enemy, will you still care if your throat is cut?"
She walked to the edge of the High Hall, looking down at the fertile land surrounded by mountains below.
"Lynn, he underestimated me, and he overestimated himself."
"Did he think he could scare me with a Giant?"
"And break through the impregnable Bloody Gate?"
"Foolish."
Lysa's eyes shone with the light of a victor.
She could already foresee that when Lynn brought his monsters, exhausted, to the foot of The Bloody Gate, they would be met by tens of thousands of fresh Vale Elites.
And that mighty fortress that had never been breached!
Once Frey Family dealt with Robb, she could switch from defense to offense!
By then, Lynn would be attacked from front and back, trapped in true desperation!
"Let him come."
Lysa spread her arms, as if embracing the howling winds of The Eyrie.
"Let him bring his army and smash himself dead against my walls!"
"I will let him know that the Eagle is forever the master of the sky!"
However, the Mistress of The Eyrie, who believed she had seen through everything, did not know.
That "Frost Giant" seen by her scout was indeed shown to her deliberately by Lynn.
Just as Robb's main army stepped onto the Kingsroad, Lynn ordered the fifteen-meter-tall Frost Giant to separate from the main force crossing The Neck.
It moved south alone, slowly and steadily, along the periphery of the Kingsroad.
Its mission was simple.
It was... to expose itself.
After being spotted by The Vale's scouts, it immediately turned around and returned to the Frost Road of The Neck at maximum speed, rejoining the unit.
This was a simple yet deadly Psychological Trap.
A perfect snare capable of trapping any suspicious commander.
Robb was the bait, and Lynn's Surprise Force was "accidentally" discovered.
Lysa was now convinced that Lynn's next move was to attack The Bloody Gate!
... And at this moment, just outside The Vale.
Lynn and his army had successfully crossed the entirety of The Neck.
As they stepped onto the solid ground of The Riverlands, the eastern sky was already turning a pale white.
The air no longer carried the stench of the swamp, but the fragrance of earth and grass.
Lynn slowly exhaled a breath of stale air.
The wildlings and Giants behind him did not cheer.
They simply stood there in silence, awaiting Lynn's new commands.
Through Greensight, he now knew that the Frost Giant had been discovered by Lysa, and she was utterly convinced of his intention to attack The Bloody Gate.
And this was exactly what Lynn wanted.
However, the true plan he had shared with Robb did indeed involve attacking The Bloody Gate.
Except that this time, the Wildling Legion, just like Robb's Northern Coalition Army...
...they were also bait.
His goal was to make Lysa concentrate her forces inside The Bloody Gate, creating a standoff.
This way, he could execute the real plan that only he knew!
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