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The impact of the second wave of heavy cavalry was brutal for Winterfell's front line of spearmen.
The strongest and sturdiest soldiers still managed to hold their ground atop the transport wagons.
But those who could not withstand the impact were thrown straight off the wagons, crashing into the second line of spearmen and knocking several of them down as well.
After three waves of heavy cavalry charges from House Bolton, not a single spearman from the first line was still standing atop the wagons.
Even so, the enemy riders kept pressing forward like a tide.
The spearmen in the second line kept their spear shafts braced against the ground, helping absorb part of the impact and allowing them to hold back the heavy cavalry for the moment.
Taking advantage of the brief lull, the third line of reserve spearmen, commanded by Owen, immediately moved up to fill the gaps in front.
While the heavy cavalry and spearmen fought fiercely along the front line, the Bolton light cavalry on the flanks finally began their charge.
"Loose!"
Theon raised his hand and shouted.
The five hundred archers positioned on the left side released their bowstrings at the same time.
A dense rain of arrows rose into the sky.
Locke personally led the charge against the enemy's right flank, which was also Winterfell's left flank.
Though they were light cavalry, they did not fear enemy archers.
They wore helmets and mail hauberks. As long as they were not hit through the gaps in their armor, they would be relatively safe.
But suddenly, he saw the sky darken.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
The five hundred Winterfell archers, together with most of the shield-bearing infantry, had been placed by Theon on the left flank.
On the right flank, there were fewer than five hundred ordinary infantrymen.
As a result, Locke's two hundred and fifty Bolton light cavalrymen were hit by a devastating rain of arrows.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Whinnies rang out.
The arrows arced through the air and struck the riders' armor with sharp metallic clangs.
But the horses had no protection.
Some arrows pierced straight through the animals' heads, killing them instantly.
Others sank into their bodies.
The horses staggered a few steps in agony before collapsing to the ground.
The riders were violently thrown down and trampled by the horses charging right behind them.
Locke was unlucky.
A stray arrow struck his horse in the head and sent it crashing to the ground.
But at the same time, he was lucky.
Amid the avalanche of galloping horses, none of them ended up trampling him.
Locke spat out a mouthful of blood and, despite the pounding dizziness, struggled to his feet.
The first thing he did was look toward the battlefield and watch the riders who were still charging forward.
The Winterfell archers only had time to loose a second volley before quickly splitting to both sides and withdrawing behind the formation.
Behind them emerged ranks of Winterfell infantry carrying large kite shields, broad at the top and pointed at the bottom, forming an inverted triangle.
They advanced in good order, step by step.
"Shields up!"
At the infantry officer's command, the soldiers drove the lower ends of their shields into the ground and gripped the inner handles tightly, waiting for the enemy cavalry to hit them.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
After two volleys of arrows, the force led by Locke had already been cut in half.
Filled with rage, they slammed hard into the Winterfell shields, producing an endless string of impacts.
It was a brutal contest of strength.
The Winterfell soldiers who took the hit were thrown backward, many of them clearly hearing the bones in their own bodies break.
As for the Bolton riders whose charge had been stopped, they were immediately surrounded by nearby soldiers and pierced by multiple swords.
Meanwhile, atop the walls of the Dreadfort, the Winterfell soldiers taking part in the siege had initially been driven forward by the rewards promised by their commanders.
But as the brutality of the battle intensified, their morale began to fade.
The breach in the walls still existed.
However, the bravest soldiers who had managed to climb up were already dead or badly wounded.
The remaining soldiers began to hesitate and fall back.
Those peasants levied from the lands of the North did not have the resolve needed to fight to the death.
Seeing the situation, Trogg, the infantry commander below the walls, realized morale had already broken.
It was no longer possible to continue the assault.
So he ordered the remaining soldiers to move toward the Dreadfort's main gate and block it tightly.
At the very least, that would prevent the defenders from riding out of the castle to reinforce the main battlefield in the rear.
Seeing fewer and fewer Winterfell soldiers managing to climb through the breach in the wall, Roose understood that that part of the battle was already decided.
In truth, his attention was no longer there.
His eyes were fixed on the allied army's camp in the distance.
When his strongest card, the heavy cavalry charge, was stopped by the Winterfell spearmen, Roose only frowned slightly.
But when he saw Winterfell's left flank beginning to twist under the impact of the Bolton cavalry, a faint smile finally appeared on his face.
Just a little more pressure, and that formation would break.
If that happened, the line of spearmen blocking the heavy cavalry would collapse.
Even if Winterfell had hidden additional forces, House Bolton's victory would become inevitable.
However, Winterfell's left flank had already been reinforced in advance by Theon.
Compared to the seemingly endless ranks of infantry appearing there, the little over a hundred Bolton riders left were far too few.
The force of their charge began to fade.
Gradually, they were swallowed by the mass of infantry.
Seeing that the cavalry on the left flank had been completely destroyed, Roose shifted his gaze toward the cavalry on the right flank, which was taking a detour because of the terrain.
The riders on that side knew the land around the Dreadfort very well.
Though the terrain looked flat, it actually had several natural drops in the ground.
They were not high.
Skilled riders could easily leap over them with their horses.
But doing so would inevitably reduce the speed of the charge.
So they chose to ride around the drops instead.
It would take a little more time, but they would keep their formation intact.
And since there were no archers in that sector to stop them, they advanced in perfect order against the Winterfell line.
A fully accelerated cavalry charge was incredibly fast.
In just a few seconds, the distance between the two sides had shrunk to less than ten meters.
The riders in front could already clearly see the tense expressions on the infantrymen's faces.
Within the infantry formation on the right flank, an officer gave the order and a trumpet sounded.
Suddenly, the Bolton riders saw something unexpected.
Ahead of them, on both sides of the field, dozens of Winterfell soldiers emerged from hidden trenches.
They removed the planks concealing the openings and pulled thick iron chains.
CLANG CLANG CLANG
The chains went taut in an instant.
The Bolton riders, unable to stop in time, slammed into them at full speed.
Desperate whinnies rang out.
The horses had their legs caught by the chains and stumbled violently.
Men and horses were hurled to the ground.
Some animals managed to stop before hitting the chains.
But the abrupt halt threw their riders several yards forward.
Horses crashed down on men.
Horses trampled other horses.
The right-flank cavalry charge, which had begun in perfect formation, was thrown into complete chaos by a few chains stretched across the ground.
The first riders to fall were crushed by their own comrades.
They had almost no chance of surviving.
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