New chapter! Thanks for all the support!
x
On the first day after the allied army arrived at the Dreadfort, they immediately began setting up camp.
Since the logistics wagons had transported a large amount of supplies, the number of tents in the camp far exceeded what would normally be expected for just five thousand soldiers.
This situation was reported by the defenders of the Dreadfort to Roose Bolton. However, after reviewing the information brought by his scouts, he concluded that it was likely just a tactic from the Young Wolf to increase psychological pressure.
At the same time, the logistics unit began using the now-empty wagons to cut down trees in the surrounding forest. Amid the constant activity, they started building crude siege equipment.
The allied army appeared organized and prepared.
However, three days passed, and the logistics unit continued only transporting wood and constructing equipment. Not even a probing attack had been carried out.
Standing atop the main wall of the Dreadfort, Roose watched the enemy camp in the distance, silent in thought.
With three days having passed without any significant movement from the allied army, he began to feel that something was off.
Even after reviewing all available information, Roose still couldn't find an explanation. So he went over his troop deployment and strategy again in his mind, searching for any flaws.
At the moment, the Dreadfort held one thousand five hundred soldiers.
Among them, one thousand three hundred were elite infantry responsible for defending the fortress, while two hundred cavalry waited for an opportunity to launch a surprise attack.
As for Locke's forces, they had already gathered three thousand militia infantry and one thousand cavalry at Stone Hedge, about half a day's ride from the Dreadfort.
Ramsay still had over four hundred cavalry riding back to the Dreadfort at full speed as reinforcements.
The Dreadfort was extremely difficult to take.
Once the allied army began the siege, the fortress would become a true meat grinder. The current defensive forces were more than enough to hold the enemy army outside.
Once they suffered heavy losses and their morale dropped, Locke's forces could strike from the rear.
At that point, with the Dreadfort attacking from the front and Locke from the rear, the allied army would be caught between two forces.
Victory would be assured.
On the morning of the fourth day, the Dreadfort finally faced its first attack.
About a thousand Winterfell infantry, carrying banners bearing the direwolf of the frozen lands and wearing worn chainmail, advanced in formation.
They held large wooden shields, roughly made by the logistics unit, forming a large rectangular shield formation as they marched steadily toward the main gate of the fortress.
Under the protection of those shields, other soldiers carried several newly built siege ladders.
Roose, standing on the wall above the main gate, watched the Winterfell soldiers begin their assault.
Strangely, it gave him a sense of relief.
He raised his right arm into the air.
The archers on the walls held their breath, waiting for his command.
"Fire!"
As soon as the enemy soldiers entered range, Roose lowered his arm and gave the order.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Hundreds of arrows, gleaming under the morning sun, traced deadly arcs through the air before raining down on the Winterfell formation.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The arrows struck the large wooden shields, producing dull sounds like falling hail.
Most of them were blocked.
But on a battlefield, there are always the unlucky ones.
Some soldiers were struck by arrows that slipped through the gaps between the shields, collapsing to the ground, screaming in pain.
The attacking formation could not stop for them.
They continued advancing.
Behind the main line, soldiers with linen bands tied around their heads, members of the medical unit, approached in pairs under the protection of long shields.
They quickly examined the wounded.
Those beyond saving were left where they fell.
Those who still had a chance were dragged back by one soldier, while the other kept the shield raised for protection.
When the attacking formation finally reached the main gate of the Dreadfort, the shield wall quickly opened.
The soldiers inside raised the siege ladders against the walls.
At that moment, the Bolton soldiers on the walls began throwing stones the size of human heads.
At the same time, another rain of arrows fell.
"Ah! Ah!"
The cries of Winterfell soldiers echoed constantly.
Being struck by an arrow did not necessarily mean death.
But when a stone hit someone, their skull shattered instantly, spraying blood and white matter everywhere.
Some Winterfell archers at the base of the wall began returning fire.
Several Bolton soldiers, still holding stones ready to throw, were struck by arrows before they could act.
Taking advantage of the moment, Winterfell soldiers began climbing the siege ladders.
Whoosh!
One soldier climbing, focused, suddenly heard the sound of liquid being poured from above.
Instinctively, he looked up.
A stream of boiling oil poured straight onto his face.
"AAAAH!!!"
The skin on his face instantly turned red and began to melt. Blisters formed everywhere as the flesh burned and split apart.
The soldier released the ladder and fell backward.
As he fell, his head struck the ground first.
He did not scream again.
Only his right leg twitched slightly.
It was clear he would not survive.
And he was not the only one.
From multiple ladders, Winterfell soldiers kept falling, like grain spilling from a sack.
With all defensive measures being used at once by the Boltons, casualties among the Winterfell soldiers exceeded thirty percent.
Morale collapsed.
When one soldier saw the mutilated bodies of his comrades scattered across the ground, he panicked and began to run.
That triggered the collapse of the entire assault line.
Shields, ladders, and swords were abandoned.
The fleeing soldiers ran desperately, trying to escape as fast as they could.
The Bolton defenders on the walls immediately took advantage of the opportunity, firing arrows with even greater enthusiasm to rack up more kills.
"Woooo!"
When the Winterfell soldiers finally moved out of arrow range, the Bolton defenders on the walls began celebrating in unison.
Roose watched the soldiers retreat back to their camp.
His face remained completely expressionless.
It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.
"Any response from Locke?"
Roose suddenly asked his attendant beside him.
"Lord Locke has sent scouts to observe the enemy army since they first arrived near the Dreadfort.
The total enemy force is around five thousand one hundred men, including about five hundred from the logistics unit.
During this time, they have only been cutting trees near the Lonely Mountain and transporting wood. There has been no unusual activity."
The chainmail-clad attendant responded immediately.
"The road between the Dreadfort and Stone Hedge has only a few low hills. There are no forests or narrow passes where large forces could hide for an ambush.
Lord Locke has confirmed this several times."
"Hmm. And Ramsay?"
Hearing the report and realizing he may have been overly cautious, Roose nodded before asking about his bastard son.
"Lord Ramsay will need at least five more days to arrive.
According to his informants, Robb Stark is still in Winterfell, meeting daily with the northern lords."
"So in the end, I was too cautious."
After hearing the latest report, Roose nodded and gave his order.
"Send a reply to Locke.
Tell him to prepare his forces for battle."
"Also, tell Ramsay he can take his time returning.
By the time he arrives… this war will already be over."
The attendant received the order and quickly descended from the wall, heading for the rookery to send Roose's messages.
x
x
x
If you're enjoying the story, don't forget to add it to your library and drop some Power Stones.
Your support really helps the novel grow!