Chapter 274 260: The Battle of the The Trident, Part 2

At a bend in the Green Fork, cargo ships of all sizes crowded the banks. The Riverlands were crisscrossed with waterways, making shipping convenient, so Wylis' force hadn't exerted much effort to gather the vessels.

At this moment, Northern Soldiers were boarding the ships in batches.

The cargo ships sat deep in the water; a single vessel could carry dozens of men.

The ships sailed to the opposite bank, unloaded the Soldiers, and returned empty. Cycle after cycle, the figures on the riverbank visibly thinned, with nearly half already across the river.

Only the Merman Banner and several other noble banners still swayed in the wind on the north bank.

This was the scene Commander Luke saw when he arrived leading the Ash Company.

He reined in his horse on a high slope, his gaze sweeping across the seemingly chaotic ferry point before looking toward the sparse Northern Army arrays on the opposite bank.

He could wait no longer.

"Vanguard of three thousand, crush their rear!" Commander Luke pointed his longsword toward the riverbank. "Finish this quickly; drive the rest of them into the river!"

The order was given.

Three thousand Ash Company infantry roared forth, charging straight for the Northern rear guard, which appeared to have a loose formation and their backs to the water due to the crossing.

It was unexpectedly smooth.

The Northern Army's resistance was weak and disorganized.

The Ash Company vanguard was like a hot knife through butter, easily tearing through the defensive line and sweeping all the way to the edge of the riverbank. Several empty ships that had just docked were even set ablaze, sending plumes of black smoke into the air.

Watching from the high slope, Commander Luke felt his heart ease slightly.

It seemed the Northerners were so eager to cross that their rear was truly hollow.

He raised his hand, prepared to order the entire army forward to completely destroy this remnant force.

At that moment, a sudden change occurred.

The dozens of cargo ships that were originally empty, either turning around or just docking, suddenly had their thick, closed hatch covers slammed open from the inside!

Battle cries erupted as fully armed Northern Soldiers poured out of the holds like a swarm of ants, instantly filling the decks and leaping onto the shore.

They were not the crossing troops, but an ambush that had been hidden in the ships all along!

Simultaneously, the seemingly crumbling Northern rear guard suddenly contracted, shifting their formation to form a pincer with the ambushing troops from the ships. They firmly locked the three thousand Ash Company vanguards, who had pushed too deep and were now isolated, into the narrow riverbank area.

Commander Luke's pupils constricted, and his heart sank heavily.

It was a trap!

"Full army charge! Support the vanguard!" he roared hoarsely, pointing his sword forward.

The main force of the Ash Company held nothing back, surging toward the riverbank battlefield like a grey tide.

However, just as the main army reached the edge of the fray and before they could fully deploy, a world-shaking roar of battle cries and thundering hooves erupted from their rear flank!

"Ambush from the rear!" An officer, his face covered in blood, desperately squeezed through to Commander Luke's side and shouted hoarsely, "It's Northern cavalry! Many of them! The flank has been crushed!"

Commander Luke whipped his head around. His vision was blocked by men, horses, and dust, but the chaotic clamor and the panicked shouts of his own Soldiers told him everything.

Beyond the ambush, there was yet another ambush!

Robb Stark's target was his reinforcement force!

"Form up! Form up to the rear! Pikemen, turn!" Commander Luke shouted his orders with all his might, trying to steady the lines.

But the Ash Company was in the middle of a full-speed charge forward; suddenly met with a heavy blow from behind, their formation fell into utter chaos.

Orders were difficult to convey amidst the panic, and the units were cut into several segments.

That Northern cavalry force numbered about three thousand, all light horsemen with extreme mobility.

They did not linger in combat, instead repeatedly weaving through and cutting the battlefield. Wherever the Ash Company showed signs of regrouping, the iron hooves would trample there, scattering the newly gathered resistance once more.

The army of eight thousand was now partitioned and torn apart, unable to coordinate front and rear.

In the chaos, Commander Luke caught a glimpse of the cavalry's banner...

The Direwolf.

Beneath the banner, a magnificent grey warhorse carried a young commander, leading the charge straight toward the core of the center army where Commander Luke was located.

Silver-grey armor, a flying cloak, and a sharp gaze that could be felt even from a great distance.

The King in the North, Robb Stark.

Commander Luke gripped his sword hilt so tightly his knuckles turned white.

The Soldiers he could gather around him now numbered fewer than a thousand.

Defeat was certain.

He looked at the approaching direwolf banner, a strong surge of resentment and guilt rising in his heart.

Your Highness... I have failed your trust.

He held his sword across his chest, preparing to meet the final charge and death.

At this critical moment, a distinctly different, heavier sound of horse hooves, like rolling thunder, boomed from the other side of the battlefield—from the direction of the Ash Company's crushed flank!

The sound was heavy and rhythmic, carrying the clanging of metal friction, instantly drowning out the localized noise of the battlefield.

Commander Luke was stunned for a moment, then a glimmer of hope from the brink of death erupted in his eyes.

This sound... it was Cataphracts! It was the heavy cavalry of the Bloodsworn!

At the other end of the battlefield, Henry stood clad in dark red heavy armor beneath the blood-red Three-headed Dragon Banner, his expression as cold as iron.

When he received Commander Luke's message and learned he had taken the initiative to attack, he felt something was wrong.

Prince Aegon had warned him that this Northern little wolf pup was cunning and skilled in war.

Such an obvious opening was more likely a trap.

He immediately assembled three thousand Bloodsworn heavy cavalry and rushed to reinforce at full speed.

Pushing through the journey, he had finally arrived.

Looking at the Ash Company before him, partitioned, surrounded, and locked in a bitter struggle, Henry did not hesitate. He raised his right fist, and the trumpeter beside him immediately blew a shrill, modulated horn call.

Upon hearing the order, the Bloodsworn heavy cavalry in transit rapidly changed their formation, shifting from a marching column into a sharp Arrowhead Formation.

Both men and horses were clad in heavy armor, with lances like a forest, reflecting a dull, bloody light under the sun.

"Break their lines!" Henry pointed his longsword forward.

"Break their lines!" Three thousand heavy cavalry roared in unison, the sound shaking the fields.

In the next moment, the steel torrent launched, accelerating from slow to fast, carrying a momentum that could crush anything. They crashed directly into the flank of Wylis' Northern infantry, who were surrounding the Ash Company beneath the Merman Banner!

There was no technique, only pure power.

The thick armor, the heavy lances, and the terrifying kinetic energy of the charging warhorses.

The Bloodsworn heavy cavalry was like a red-hot iron thrust into grease, instantly tearing a massive, gory gap through the Northern infantry's tight lines.

Men and horses were overturned, shields shattered, and spears snapped; Northern Soldiers who tried to block them were tossed aside and trampled like chaff.

Wherever the heavy cavalry passed, they literally plowed a path through the battlefield paved with severed limbs and broken weapons, piercing and tearing through Wylis' army array!

Robb, who was leading his cavalry toward Commander Luke's center, suddenly jerked his horse to a halt. He whipped his head around to look at the terrifying cavalry that had suddenly appeared and changed the state of the battlefield in an instant.

Heavy armor, blood-red banners, a fearless charge, and a devastating impact against infantry lines... this was the elite force Targaryen relied upon.

Robb's gaze instantly turned cold.

He stared hard for a moment at the Ash Company commander's banner, which still stood among the remnants just a short distance away.

With just one more charge, he might have been able to slay the general and seize the banner, achieving the first feat of killing a high commander since the Targaryen landing.

But at that moment, the Bloodsworn heavy cavalry that had just completed their penetration had already begun to slowly turn in the distance. Their dark red armor flickered in the dust like a waking giant, coldly "looking" over.

Robb suddenly tightened his grip on the reins.

He could not linger.

The goal of this battle was not to annihilate this secondary force, but to lure Aegon and his dragons away from their main base.

A small victory was of no use; once his three thousand light cavalry were bogged down by the routed troops and then caught by that terrifying heavy cavalry... the consequences would be unthinkable.

"Go!" Robb suddenly wheeled his horse around, and the direwolf banner danced with the movement.

The Northern light cavalry, who were in the heat of the slaughter, were slightly stunned, but strict military discipline made them execute the order quickly.

The cavalry troop disengaged from the chaotic Ash Company remnants like a receding tide, galloping toward the rear and rapidly exiting the heart of the battlefield using the speed of light horsemen.

The Bloodsworn did not pursue.

After completing the task of tearing the battlefield and breaking the siege, this heavy cavalry force, under Henry's command, slowly moved toward the Ash Company as they gathered their remnants. They reformed into a tight defensive formation, standing like a blood-red reef amidst the chaotic battlefield.

Robb led his cavalry to rendezvous with Wylis' force, which had also gathered its units and was slowly retreating.

The Northern Army reformed their lines on the outskirts of the riverbank. Although their formation was somewhat scattered and their casualties were not light, their main force remained intact and their banners had not fallen.

Across from them, between the riverbank and the slopes, the remnants of the Ash Company were also hurriedly reorganizing under the protection of the Bloodsworn.

Between the two great armies lay a wreckage-strewn battlefield.

Corpses lay scattered, the wounded wailed, and broken spears and tattered banners were stuck askew in the muddy bloodbaths. The embers of the burning ships had not yet died out, sending up curls of black smoke.

The wind blew from the river, carrying a thick, inseparable stench of blood and charred flesh.

On one side was the black-and-red Three-headed Dragon Banner, fluttering silently amidst the forest of heavy cavalry.

On the other side was the silver-grey direwolf banner, snapping in the wind surrounded by light cavalry.

In between was a dead zone piled with corpses.

After the brief, intense clash came an even more oppressive silence, like the calm before a mountain storm.

The two sides faced each other across this bloody slaughterhouse in a distant standoff. Soldiers panted, taking the time to bandage wounds and check weapons, their gazes locked onto the enemy through the corpses and smoke.

And this meat grinder on the riverbank had only just begun.

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