Black Walder had recognized the enemy before him; the Giant-Horned Knight's height and strength seemed unmatched, who else could it be? The forked great helm on his head resembled the beautiful antlers of a stag.
"Damn it, Hoster, Mellister, and the wild deer. I once hunted deer in the forest, and today I can hunt wild deer in Luanhe City.
I'll nail your head with antlers.
I'm sure the little king on the iron throne will like this gift."
The melodious dance of steel spread again, weapons in hand, confronting the enemy.
Gendry wielded his arakh, his speed astonishing, a whistling sound following him, a storm of iron light moving with Gendry, most of his killing moves aimed directly at Black Walder's head.
Black Walder suddenly felt a sense of dread; he could feel the sharpness and speed of the longsword.
The blade of the arakh had black ripples; that edge belonged to valyrian steel, unmatched by any other weapon in the world.
Black Walder's drunken mind began to clear, and he used his longsword to parry one attack.
Then Gendry exerted a fierce force, and the longsword snapped in two with a crisp clang.
To Black Walder's astonishment, the blade sliced through his body, cutting directly into the armor joint at his armpit.
Then Black Walder's sword-wielding hand, a part of his body, and his head all fell to the ground, as if sliced off diagonally.
"Thud!" Black Walder's body fell to the ground, along with half of his blue steel armor.
Some of his companions, wielding heavy axes, didn't have time to retreat and had already charged forward stubbornly.
But all they met was death.
Ser Barristan, Bluebeard, Bronze Yohn, and others had also joined the fray.
The clash of weapons was incessant; killing Black Walder, Gendry used his longsword to break through every attack.
He attacked calmly; offense was the best defense.
A knight required strength and agility, and he only needed to carry it through.
Those Frey elites in blue steel ring mail fought like cornered beasts; though Black Walder was dead, no one dropped their weapons.
The scimitar in Gendry's hand danced wildly, as if he had grown multiple arms; the blade surged like a great river, sweeping away all enemies before him, and several heavy ax guards subsequently fell to the ground.
This detachment of Black Walder's, the most elite warriors of the Frey Family, paid the price for their Commander's recklessness.
After Black Walder was cut down, the subsequent Frey detachment lacked a Commander; although their combat skills were good, they were not truly first-rate in the Seven Kingdoms.
Unfortunately, this army of Gendry, Barristan, Bluebeard, Bronze Yohn, Ser Boros, Anguy, and the Gold Cloaks might now be the most all-star lineup in the known world.
Gendry became the spearhead of the wedge formation, invincible.
He was tall and long-limbed, his attack range far exceeding his opponents', clad in heavy armor, and his valyrian steel scimitar was indestructible.
Black Walder and his companions utterly collapsed after several charges by Gendry and the others, most of them falling to the ground.
First those with heavy axes, then those wielding long spears, and then those with longswords and round shields.
For these men to persist after their Commander was the first to die, they were indeed the Frey Family's fist unit, but alas, that was all they were.
"Kill." The Frey Family's elite were buried on the square along with Black Walder, and the inner arched bridge gate of the castle had also been taken by the Seaguard soldiers.
Now, they only needed to find the Freys and the East City.
In the bedroom of the West River castle, Marquess Walder was still enjoying his sweet dreams, full of glee.
"Noble blood, noble status. As long as the Frey Family remains neutral, then the Arryns or Starks who wish to move will accept my demands."
If Marquess Walder's weasel-like descendants could enter court, serve as adopted sons of ancient royalty, and rise in the palace.
If the Frey Family's girls could share beds with Direwolves or eagles, or trout, then Marquess Walder felt his life would be complete.
What were great lords, what were ancient houses of a thousand years? These hypocritical nobles still had to curry favor with him to cross the bridge.
The Frey Family was already very wealthy; now, they only lacked the word 'noble'—nobility, aristocratic flair.
"Damn Lannister, Tywin, you'll regret it." Marquess Walder still said bitterly in his dream.
House Lannister was the first high branch the Frey Family had clung to, an ancient royal house of the West, but Tywin never thought highly of the Freys.
After the war began, he still burned Frey lands, and Tywin had never offered to take any Frey descendant as an Attendant, even after Walder's numerous flatteries.
Marquess Walder also hated Lannister.
Marquess Walder dreamed of marrying into the Tully, Stark, and Arryn families, and of Tywin of the Red Cloaks kneeling before him in repentance, kowtowing like a clown.
It was truly a good dream.
A sudden knocking sound interrupted Walder's sweet dream.
"Who is it?" Marquess Walder said furiously.
The sounds of fighting suddenly became real, startling Walder.
"Hurry, Father." Walder's heir said to him.
Walder then saw his son, already dressed in blue ring mail, longsword in hand, his face serious and weary, and only then did he realize something was terribly wrong.
"Who dares to run wild in my city? Is it the lion? Or the Direwolf, is it the eagle of The Eyrie, or the eagle of Seaguard?" Old Walder asked, bewildered.
"None of them." Walder's heir shook his head, "It's a long story, Father. It's not them, it's the storm, the storm has come."
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