Night shrouded the mountain forests, wind howled through the trees, and the crowd hurried, panting.
Countless torches converged into a winding fiery dragon, moving along the rugged mountain path towards Vicon Gorge in the west.
The conscripted peasant soldiers, dressed in coarse cloth, gripped their pitchforks, hoes, and axes. Flames burned in their chests, scorching their bodies, their blood boiling.
The promise of "land for military merit" burned their hearts more fiercely than the hottest fire.
Arthur rode in front, sighing as he looked at this group of farmers, armed with various farm tools, only a few with military pikes, no armor, and wooden planks tied to their bodies as makeshift armor.
Now that the weather was warming, the ice and snow on Brightmoon Mountains had melted into water, and the river was surging. There would be no better opportunity than this; missing it would mean an unknown wait. It was just a shame that Barna and Bronn hadn't returned. Damn it, he didn't have enough armor to equip everyone, not even enough standard weapons. He could only give three hundred junior officers cloth armor and worn-out longswords, and fifty direct retainers chainmail and good swords. The importance of iron ore as a strategic resource for cold weapons meant he had to find a solution.
The army reached a fork in the road.
One path led west to Vicon Gorge, the designated battlefield on the map.
The other wound downwards, leading to the riverbank shrouded in night, where the rushing waters flowed directly from Brightmoon Mountains.
Everyone instinctively prepared to turn west.
But Arthur suddenly raised his arm. His voice was crystal clear in the night wind, carrying an irresistible command: "All troops turn! Objective! Brightmoon Mountains Riverbank!"
The command was like a giant stone thrown into a calm lake, causing a stir.
Hakon looked at Arthur and spoke, his face and tone filled with surprise and confusion: "Lord Arthur."
"Vicon Gorge is to the west. If we launch a swift surprise attack, they'll be unprepared, which would be perfect for reclaiming the land. Why are we going to the river?"
Arthur did not answer.
He merely gestured with his eyes for the army to continue, and he himself led the way onto the small path leading to the riverbank.
The large army, filled with doubts, followed their lord. When they reached the riverbank, the light of the torches dispelled the darkness, illuminating the scene before them.
In the woodland by the riverbank, hundreds of massive rafts lay silently.
The felled timber had already been processed and tightly bound together with thick ropes.
Lucien and Hakon looked at these rafts, their confusion deepening.
Brin, however, trembled violently the moment he saw the rafts. These rafts could float on water.
All the fragmented clues in his mind, from the moment they turned towards the rushing waters of Brightmoon Mountains—the seemingly useless logging orders whose purpose was previously unknown, the mysterious smiles given without explanation—suddenly connected at this moment.
"I understand... I understand everything!!!" Brin's voice trembled slightly, and his burly body began to shake, not from fear, but from extreme excitement. "Genius, Lord Arthur is simply a genius."
"Downstream!!!" Brin's eyes widened, almost shouting, "We're not going to the west of Vicon Gorge at all!!! Our target is Willow Wood City!!!"
Lucien's mouth hung open, a sound escaping his throat. He was completely shocked by this, unable to utter a single word. His mouth opened and closed, and finally, he could only conclude in his heart, 'As expected of Lord Arthur.'
By dawn, when Roger Lygg thought they were still assembling in the mountains, they would descend like divine soldiers, appearing beneath his main city.
"By the Seven! As expected of Lord Arthur!" Lucien murmured, "Downstream..."
Hakon rubbed the back of his head, and a thought emerged: "But Lord Arthur, didn't we say before that we would never proactively set foot on the enemy's land?"
Arthur turned around, his gaze on him, and still smiling, he explained, "Legge Family soldiers are already standing in my family castle. The old rules have already been broken by them first."
His smile was an awkward one, because originally, he had planned a strategic deception to go west to Vicon Gorge, then find fault with the enemy to launch a surprise attack. But he hadn't expected the enemy to strike first and occupy his family castle, leaving him no need to even find an excuse. He could only say that it would be a mixed bag of praise and criticism, as Westeros currently had no rules of war regarding deception.
Hakon lowered his head awkwardly, but a memory flashed through his mind, confusing him: when Lord Arthur ordered the logging, the Legge Family apparently hadn't yet sent troops to occupy the Lord's family castle...
Arthur stood on a towering riverside rock, drew his Myr longsword, and with his shadow stretched long by the firelight, he spoke angrily:
"The Legge Family has occupied my family castle, passed down through generations!!!"
His voice echoed along the riverbank, accompanied by the rushing water.
"Since they don't abide by the rules, we don't need to be polite either!"
Arthur thought for a moment, then pointed his Myr longsword at Hakon: "Hakon! You will lead two hundred retainers! Immediately change course and head west!"
"Go to the western lands of Vicon Gorge to reclaim the lost territory! Plant my banner there! Suppress the resistors! Allot public land to those who submit! Then mobilize them! And meet me in Willow Wood City!"
Among the ranks, a young soldier suddenly couldn't help but blurt out loudly, "What kind of heads count as military merit?"
As soon as he spoke, the "elder" next to him kicked him in the backside, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Arthur raised his hand, signaling for someone to help the soldier up.
He looked around at the eager faces, knowing this was the question on everyone's mind.
"Those who dare to resist with weapons!!!" Arthur's voice was like the cold wind of winter, "All count!!!"
The retainers' breathing instantly grew heavy.
Arthur turned to the assembled army behind him, sheathed his longsword, and with a powerful swing of his arm, pointed to the rafts on the river.
"Everyone else!! Board the rafts!!! Our target is Willow Wood City!!! By noon! We!! Will be at the city gates!!"
Finally, he turned to a soldier on a fast horse, taking out a token carved with a Black Lion from his embrace,
"You! Immediately ride the best horse! Take the northern path! Go to Deep Valley City! Give this to Lady Rona!!"
"Tell Old Nicken and Tommen! The time has come! Have him lead the four hundred soldiers from Lady Rona's territory, whom I had him mobilize in advance! Head west quickly! And meet us outside Willow Wood City!"
Under the shouts and organization of the officers, over six hundred retainers orderly boarded the rafts.
All torches were extinguished.
The entire army instantly merged into the deep night. The "fleet" of hundreds of rafts, like a group of silent black phantoms, drifted silently downstream with the rushing river.
In Willow Wood City, Roger Lygg was in a secret room, embracing his favorite mistress and enjoying fine wine.
"Five days are up," he said with a smile to the woman by the bed. "That so-called Black Lion is nothing special, just barking loudly but not daring to bite like a dog."
"It seems his title of Black Lion will soon be changed to the Boneless."
The woman giggled, feeding him a purple grape.
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