After carefully analyzing the battlefield, Randyll Tarly finally relaxed.
Why had he abandoned his usual strategy of harassment and attrition in favor of such a risky, all-out assault?
Why had he deliberately used psychological warfare before the battle, creating the illusion that he intended to wage a prolonged campaign against Karl Baratheon?
Why had he personally led only a force of light cavalry and chosen to attack before dawn?
Every decision had been made for one purpose.
Karl Baratheon's greatest advantage had never been his army—it was Karl himself.
Time and again, Karl had overturned impossible situations through overwhelming personal strength, turning certain defeat into miraculous victory. Randyll had no intention of giving him that opportunity.
If Karl's army could be shattered in a single blow, even a man as powerful as Karl would be unable to reverse the outcome.
War was not a contest between individuals.
It was decided by armies.
Individual heroics alone could never determine the fate of a campaign.
It's over, Karl Baratheon.
Robert Baratheon had once achieved miracles on the battlefield, but Robert had possessed years of experience and countless victories behind him.
Karl, however, was still young.
Too young.
Too bold.
And today, that recklessness would finally cost him everything.
Despite standing on opposite sides, Randyll couldn't help but admire the young king.
Karl had risen from humble beginnings through nothing but talent and determination.
He possessed a charisma that inspired absolute loyalty.
Even Samwell, Randyll's timid and disappointing son, had changed after following Karl.
More than once, Randyll had wondered...
If Karl were my son...
Even if Karl had been born a bastard, Randyll would have proudly named him heir to Horn Hill and entrusted him with Heartsbane itself.
Precisely because he respected Karl so highly, Randyll had committed every available resource to this battle.
He had even gambled everything on a single decisive strike.
Unfortunately...
Every great hero only needed one defeat to erase countless victories.
With a silent sigh, Randyll drew Heartsbane, the ancient Valyrian steel sword of House Tarly.
Raising the gleaming blade high, he charged with the vanguard toward Karl's shield wall.
Beside him rode nothing more than an ordinary-looking cavalryman.
No one paid the man any attention.
---
"It's over."
Hidden beneath his visor, Karl smiled faintly.
Truthfully, even he had not expected Jon Snow and the others to react so quickly.
Their timing had been flawless.
Despite facing overwhelming pressure in the darkness, unable to judge the enemy's true numbers, they had remained calm enough to recognize Randyll's intentions almost immediately.
Not only had they identified the enemy's plan...
They had executed Karl's contingency strategy without hesitation.
Karl had already prepared himself to pay a considerable price for victory.
Instead, Jon had given him an unexpected surprise.
His judgment...
His courage...
His decisiveness...
All had exceeded Karl's expectations.
As Karl quietly admired Jon's performance...
The battle finally began.
---
The cavalry smashed toward the waiting infantry.
Dawn had not yet fully broken.
Visibility remained poor, making it difficult for mounted soldiers charging at full speed to react to anything ahead.
The infantry, however, enjoyed a tremendous advantage.
They only needed to stand their ground.
They could clearly brace themselves behind their shields while lowering their long spears.
Then...
The impossible happened.
Before most of the cavalry even reached the shield wall—
Horse after horse suddenly collapsed.
The charging formation instantly descended into chaos.
One rider plunged into a concealed pit.
Another horse snapped its leg.
A third stumbled over the bodies already lying on the ground.
The first horse fell.
Then another.
Then another.
Within moments, the entire charge collapsed like dominoes.
Some riders were thrown clear, breaking their necks upon impact.
Others landed beneath the hooves of their own comrades and were trampled into the mud.
Some remained conscious, screaming helplessly while broken horses crushed their legs beneath enormous weight.
Others never even had the chance to scream.
They died instantly.
The warhorses suffered no less.
Broken legs twisted at unnatural angles.
Terrified animals shrieked in agony as they struggled helplessly in the mud.
The once-proud cavalry charge shattered against the invisible obstacle like waves crashing upon hidden reefs.
Those behind couldn't stop.
They could only continue charging into the disaster unfolding before them.
Even horses agile enough to leap over fallen comrades often landed directly inside another concealed pit.
One after another...
The entire formation collapsed.
Nearly eighty percent of Randyll's charging cavalry never even reached Karl's infantry.
---
Balon Swann watched the spectacle unfold in stunned silence.
"What a miserable sight..."
He gently stroked his own horse's neck.
"Easy, boy."
Then he drew his sword.
"It's our turn."
With a light squeeze of his legs, his warhorse surged forward.
Four hundred mounted knights thundered after him.
On the opposite flank, Garlan Tyrell led another force of cavalry.
Both commanders shared the same expression.
Pity.
Yet not enough pity to hesitate.
War showed mercy to no one.
The slaughter began.
Karl's infantry slowly advanced.
Every step was perfectly coordinated.
The front ranks held their shields.
The second ranks thrust their long spears.
One thrust.
Two thrusts.
Three thrusts.
With every advance came another wave of screams.
The soldiers stepped over corpses without slowing.
Blood soaked the ground beneath their boots.
Meanwhile, Balon Swann and Garlan Tyrell descended upon the trapped cavalry like twin scythes.
Their cavalry swept around both flanks.
From above, Karl's formation resembled a monstrous beast.
The infantry formed its enormous jaws.
The cavalry became its claws.
Randyll's trapped horsemen had nowhere left to run.
Without speed, cavalry lost their greatest advantage.
Surrounded on every side, they became little more than helpless prey.
Steel flashed.
Blood sprayed across the rising morning sunlight.
Every second claimed dozens of lives.
---
Even Randyll's reserve cavalry fared no better.
Although they managed to halt before crashing into the trapped vanguard, Balon and Garlan's cavalry immediately slammed into them.
The exhausted riders never had the chance to reorganize.
They were cut down where they stood.
Only moments earlier, Randyll had believed victory was already within his grasp.
Now...
He stared in complete disbelief.
His expression froze.
He could only watch as Karl's army closed around his central force like the jaws of an enormous beast.
Spears struck relentlessly.
Arrows rained from unseen positions.
Every attempt to escape failed.
His flanking forces were already fully engaged against Jon Snow and the other cavalry detachments.
No one could rescue the center.
As the first rays of sunlight crested the horizon, the battlefield became completely visible.
Jon Snow finally realized something astonishing.
The enemy force confronting him wasn't overwhelmingly larger after all.
That realization transformed despair into hope.
The men beside him fought with renewed determination.
Their morale soared.
Every swing of their swords drove the enemy backward.
The balance of battle had completely shifted.
Then, amid the chaos, a familiar voice rang across the battlefield.
"Count Randyll Tarly."
"Surrender."
"The battle is over."
Startled, Randyll instinctively turned toward the speaker.
The ordinary cavalryman who had ridden beside him throughout the battle slowly removed his helmet.
Black hair.
Piercing blue eyes.
Karl Baratheon.
Randyll froze.
So...
Karl had been beside him all along.
Before he could react, another of his personal guards collapsed beside him.
An arrow pierced directly through the man's eye before exploding from the back of his skull.
Blood and fragments sprayed across Randyll's armor.
He closed his eyes briefly.
Then, with a heavy sigh, he finally accepted reality.
"Lay down your weapons."
"We surrender."
His command echoed across the battlefield.
Almost immediately, brilliant golden light erupted from Karl's body.
His amplified voice boomed like thunder.
"Randyll Tarly has surrendered!"
"Lay down your weapons!"
"Anyone who surrenders will be spared!"
The announcement rolled across the battlefield again and again.
Jon Snow immediately withdrew from combat.
Covered in mud and blood after losing his horse earlier in the fighting, he raised his sword high.
"Stop fighting!"
"Surrender!"
"No one who lays down their weapons will be killed!"
Soon hundreds...
Then thousands...
Repeated the same words.
Gradually, weapons began falling to the ground.
The battle came to an end.
Silence slowly replaced the sounds of war.
Looking around at the countless dead and wounded, Randyll finally asked quietly,
"Since when...?"
"Since when were you riding beside me?"
Karl smiled.
"Since you left your camp."
Randyll's shoulders slumped.
"Then..."
"Why didn't you simply capture me at the beginning?"
Karl looked directly into his eyes.
"If I had..."
"Would you have surrendered?"
"..."
"Would you truly have accepted defeat?"
Randyll lowered his head.
He already knew the answer.
No.
He would have resisted to the very end.
With a bitter smile, he released Heartsbane.
The ancient Valyrian steel sword slipped from his fingers and landed heavily in the blood-soaked mud.
Karl's eyes immediately fell upon the weapon.
Without a word, Balon Swann stepped forward.
He picked up Heartsbane with great care before respectfully presenting it to his king.
Karl accepted the legendary blade.
Turning it over in his hand, he smiled at Randyll.
"This is my spoil of war now..."
"Isn't it?"
Randyll looked at the ancestral sword that had belonged to House Tarly for centuries.
Pain flashed across his face.
His lips trembled.
Finally, he lowered his head.
"Yes..."
"Your Majesty."
Karl blinked slightly.
The sudden title surprised him.
Then a satisfied smile slowly spread across his face.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)