Stars dotted the night sky, while screams of battle rose from the ground below.
Viserys had about a hundred soldiers, while the local Andal bandits outnumbered them four or five to one.
However, the brutal nature of siege warfare and Viserys's "Hammer and Anvil" tactic had significantly negated the enemy's numerical advantage.
Not to mention that among the defenders of Viserys Fort were Viserys and Roland, two classically trained knights, leading a wedge formation of squire-apprentices like a hammerhead.
"Kill!"
"Kill!"
Dozens of cavalrymen burst from the darkness, radiating murderous intent, fierce as wolves and tigers.
Viserys wielded his lance, borrowing the momentum of his horse. The black stallion was tall and strong, a fine breed from the Dothraki herds.
They had the best horses and the best armor, functioning as a razor cutting through the enemy.
The black scale armor carried weight, as did the lance itself. Only on horseback could a knight unleash maximum lethality.
Viserys's lance carried a furious power, knocking the enemy before him straight off his horse, then moving to the next.
Killing efficiently and quickly—this was the way of war. This hacking and slashing was different from the Water Dancer's way of the assassin.
Viserys had originally thought that since the Andals invented knighthood, those who remained in the ancestral lands wouldn't be too incompetent. However, after engaging them, he realized he had overestimated these stay-behind Andals.
It seemed that with the mass migration of the Andals to Westeros, the level of civilization here had significantly declined.
"The Warrior is here!" an Andal with a seven-pointed star painted on his face screamed in agony before being run through the chest and abdomen by a lance.
The Faith of the Seven originated in Andalos. Even though most Andals had crossed the sea to Westeros, the local Andals still adhered to the Faith. The Warrior was the deity most trusted by these bandits.
The strength of the Andal bandits was relatively weak. Few had full sets of armor, and those who did wore mismatched, rusty pieces.
Their horses were mostly nags, and few in number.
The Andals had been stretched thin by Viserys's simplified "Hammer and Anvil" tactic, losing a great deal of vitality early on.
Just as their strength waned from climbing the hill and attacking the fort, Viserys's most powerful cavalry smashed into them like an iron fist.
"Demon! A demon of war!" the Andals screamed, seeing only a tall knight in full black armor, his red dragon wings gleaming like fire.
"Cavalry! Knights! How is this possible?" The local Andal bandits were shocked.
The bright black-and-red dragon banner fluttered as the armored cavalry hammered the Andal defensive line again and again.
Under the impact of the cavalry, the enemy formation began to collapse. They were bewildered. The enemy had planned for victory, while they had walked blindly into a crushing defeat.
"Follow me!" Viserys roared, wielding his lance. A foolish Andal charged with a battle axe, only to be struck in the chest by Viserys's spear. The man wore only half-armor; the lance pierced his chest, penetrating armor, leather, muscle, and lung. He died instantly.
"Fight for King Viserys!" Ser Roland Lake swung his silver morning star. The whistling war hammer smashed into an enemy's forehead, spraying blood, bone fragments, and brain matter.
This was the taste of blood, the taste of victory—something Ser Roland Lake hadn't tasted in a long time.
After the defeat at the Trident, he had thought the death knell had rung for him.
"Fight for King Viserys!" The infantry inside the fort cheered and charged. The shield wall opened, and soldiers armed with pitchforks, flails, spears, axes, and hammers began their assault.
"King Viserys? Who is that?" The Andals were confused.
War became the sum of all bloodshed: wailing, weeping, roaring.
Viserys ignored attacks that hit the surface of his armor. Full plate made him a safe iron can in melee combat, vulnerable only at the joints.
Unless the enemy was a skilled knight specialized in armor-breaking or wielded a Valyrian steel weapon.
Clearly, these Andal bandits lacked both fine equipment and training.
Thrust, lift, dodge, find the weak point.
Strength, speed, and endurance—the battlefield of a knight was destined to be more physically demanding than a Water Dancer's duel, requiring greater power and stamina. Viserys's balanced attributes were all at the level of a first-rate warrior.
Viserys felt his war experience growing slowly. Aided by heavy armor and a good horse, he was the most dangerous knight on the field, his lance bringing death and slaughter wherever it passed.
"Run!"
"We can't escape!" an Andal looking back cried out.
They had suffered heavy losses from the logs and stones. Combined with their lack of cavalry, losing this engagement meant the infantry were just crops waiting to be harvested.
"Kill the one in the dragon helm! He's their leader!"
"Kill their leader, and we still have hope!" The Andal bandits quickly realized that the razor-sharp black armored vanguard knight was the commander of this fort.
The attacking Andals had suffered grievous losses in this hill battle, losing over half their elite forces. With the cavalry charging them, they were past the point of no return.
They could only gamble on turning the tide.
"With me!" A one-eyed Andal leader gritted his teeth. His chainmail was relatively new, marking him as one of the upper echelon of the bandit gang.
"Die!" The One-Eyed Andal roared, charging into the fray to intercept Viserys. The battlefield instantly shrank to a clash of steel at close quarters.
Viserys saw the One-Eyed Andal cavalryman, a seven-pointed star painted on his face, thrusting a spear at his chest.
Viserys reined in his horse and leaned sideways, dodging the spear thrust.
The One-Eyed Andal was startled; the enemy's agility was astonishing.
Two ash wood lances clashed in mid-air. This One-Eyed Andal was indeed one of the more skilled fighters among the bandits.
Viserys eyed the gap in the chainmail. His lance drove into the Andal's body with force, but due to the close range, the impact was relatively low, and the lance became stuck in the One-Eyed man's chest.
"You..." The One-Eyed Andal clutched the spear in his chest in agony, the immense pain of his torn body slowing his movements.
"Die!" Viserys abandoned the stuck ash lance. A bright sword, flashing with light, whistled past the One-Eyed Andal's face.
Snick. The One-Eyed man clutched his throat. Blood gushed out like a spring. He tried to speak, but his body went limp, bouncing on his startled horse before finally falling to the ground.
"One-Eye is dead!"
"One-Eye is dead!" The Andals cried out in panic. It seemed One-Eye held considerable prestige among them.
Seeing their commander fall, the night-raiding army collapsed completely.
"Surrender! We surrender!"
More and more chose to drop their weapons. The rout came in waves, eventually spreading across the entire battlefield.
The war horns of Viserys's army sounded again. Viserys rode his warhorse, surrounded by his cavalry. Light flashed on the spear tips, and the black-and-red dragon banner flew above their heads.
The enemy force was utterly shattered, like broken glass. Wherever Viserys passed, local Andals knelt.
The army of Viserys Fort chased down the stragglers, firmly securing the victory.
"Are you a septon?" Viserys discovered a middle-aged man kneeling before him. His face was also painted with the seven-pointed star, but he didn't look like a killer.
"Yes, my lord. Today, you were like the Warrior incarnate."