Rosso Brun pushed aside the tent flap and entered Arthur's command tent, covered in fatigue and dust.
The wind that followed him in made the candlelight flicker, casting distorted shadows of the rivers and mountains on the map.
He bowed to Arthur, his tired face showing a hint of confusion: "Lord Arthur."
Arthur's gaze shifted from the map to him, his voice steady and devoid of emotion: "Any news?"
These past few days, Rosso had been frequently traveling between Daintings City and the allied camp as ordered. He was not only responsible for relaying intelligence and coordinating supplies, but more importantly, he had two tasks: to spread an intentionally exaggerated rumor in both locations—that there were three thousand fierce Ironborn outside the city—and to constantly monitor news from Seaguard.
Although he couldn't quite understand why his lord was so concerned about Seaguard, a thousand miles away, or what the storms there had to do with them, or if the Ironborn would attack Seaguard, or what significance it held for the Ironborn... Rosso pondered briefly, then answered truthfully: "My Lord, there is still no special news from Seaguard."
He paused, then delivered what he believed would be exciting news for his lord.
"However! I have good news! Because we have held back the Ironborn! Reinforcements from Riverrun are almost here! It is said they will arrive in two days!"
Arthur did not show the joy Rosso expected; instead, he seemed to be pained by the fact that it hadn't fallen yet. His brow furrowed slightly, and the air in the tent seemed to freeze for a moment.
No news from Seaguard? How could there be no news? When would the Ironborn raid Seaguard? An inexpressible unease rose in his heart, as if an invisible hand was plucking the strings of fate he knew so well. Had the timeline changed again?
He didn't know when, but everything seemed to be slipping out of his control. Arthur took a deep breath, suppressing the turmoil in his heart. Regardless, the imminent arrival of reinforcements from Riverrun presented him with a problem. Seaguard had to fall, and these Ironborn couldn't be dealt with yet; at least, their purpose hadn't been served.
The fire had to burn hotter; more fuel was needed.
His gaze returned to the map, his finger slowly tracing between Daintings City and the Ironborn camp before him. A bold, even ruthless, plan quickly formed in his mind. These fools had been wasting time with him, likely because they didn't know about the reinforcements. He needed to help these foolish Ironborn; he had to let them know this news.
In a very short time, the allied commanders were summoned, and a war council was held in the main tent. All the knights and vassal leaders gathered there, the tent filled with the mingled scent of sweat and tension.
Arthur stood before the map, looking around at everyone: "My Lords."
"I have good news to announce: reinforcements from Riverrun will arrive in two days at most."
As his voice fell, the tent instantly erupted. The tension that had been suppressed for days vanished, replaced by irrepressible excitement and discussion.
"Excellent! Once the Tully banners arrive, those Ironborn scum are dead!"
"We can finally end this damned standoff!"
"The war will be over! We can go home!"
"Finally! It's about time!"
Just as everyone's spirits were highest, everyone sighed in relief, their faces beaming with the ease of impending victory, and their guard was at its lowest.
Arthur's voice rang out again, like a basin of ice water in winter: "So, our waiting is over."
Then his tone turned severe, with an undeniable resolve.
"Tomorrow at dawn, the entire army will sally forth and actively attack the Ironborn camp opposite us."
The cheers abruptly ceased, and the tent fell into a dead silence. Everyone looked at Arthur with shocked eyes. Why not let others take the lead and preserve their own strength? Was this young man a fool, so stupid as to sacrifice his own assets to be loyal to others?
A grizzled Old Knight was the first to stand up, speaking loudly and excitedly: "My Lord, why? Why don't we wait for the reinforcements to arrive? Wouldn't our chances be greater if we combined our forces?"
"Wouldn't cooperating with the Riverrun army also reduce our casualties?"
The tent became lively for a moment, with discussions and agreement with the Old Knight's words.
"Yes, My Lord!"
"We are already at a disadvantage in terms of troops, why take such a risk?"
"Wait two more days, and victory will be ours! There's no need to send our men to their deaths!"
"Let the Riverrun army fight the Ironborn; we'll go home!"
Arthur listened to their objections silently, his face expressionless, until all voices quieted and everyone looked at him,
waiting for his words.
Only then did he coldly retort, his gaze sweeping over each person like a knife: "Wait?"
"Do you think the Ironborn are fools? Do they not know that reinforcements from Riverrun are coming? What if they simply escape by boat down the river?"
"Wouldn't our standoff of so many days have been in vain?"
"How can we let them plunder our liege's property and then leave so easily?"
"Can your sense of honor allow you to sit idly by while they continue to pillage the Riverlands?"
This reason hit everyone like a heavy hammer. They couldn't refute it, because it was the most likely scenario. However, wasn't this also a good thing? The enemy leaving the lord's land, the young man and they successfully completing their mission, receiving rewards together, and going home. Why was this young man so insistent on using his own assets to be loyal to others? Arthur didn't give them time to think. He turned and walked to the map, his finger moving quickly across it, beginning to deploy the attack plan.
He pointed to the center of the sand table: "My troops will serve as the main force in the center, holding the line, drawing the main Ironborn force, and engaging the enemy."
Everyone exchanged silent glances. This position sounded like the most important, but all the nobles present were seasoned in warfare. This was actually the safest, reserve position—they could advance or retreat, and would only face the enemy's Impact at the very end.
Then, his finger moved to the vanguard and the two flanks, his voice devoid of emotion: "And the troops of you, My Lords."
"You will be responsible for serving as the vanguard and the left and right flanks, launching surprise attacks and flanking maneuvers against the enemy army. You will be key to crushing the enemy, the recipients of this victory's glory, and in the most meritorious position."
The faces of those vassal leaders and knights instantly turned extremely grim. Vanguard, flanking maneuvers—this meant directly enduring the fiercest Ironborn assault, signifying the heaviest casualties.
They wanted to object, but found all their escape routes blocked. Although everyone hoped the Ironborn would leave on their own after learning about the reinforcements, without any effort or cost from them, and everyone could go home.
But morally speaking, Arthur's reason for preventing the enemy from leaving safely was unassailable. It was a true statement of loyalty to the Seven Kingdoms. Who would dare object? Wouldn't that mean only caring about one's own interests and not being loyal to the Seven Kingdoms?
Tactically, flanking maneuvers were a textbook strategy; they couldn't refute it from a military perspective. In terms of honor, refusing would be cowardice, scorned by all the knights of the Riverlands, and would become a laughingstock throughout the Seven Kingdoms if word got out.
They could only curse inwardly, 'You want to be loyal, but why do you have to drag us into it?'
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