ebookpocket.com #252 - Chapter 26: Red Wedding (10)
#252 - Chapter 26: Red Wedding (10)
Before they could even issue a warning, a clamorous sound erupted as a massive chasm suddenly appeared before the charging cavalry, spanning three to four meters in width. The front ranks, caught completely off guard, plummeted into the trench, men and horses alike, amidst screams of agony.
The cavalry behind, startled by the sight, reacted with trained precision. They immediately tightened their reins, urging their mounts to leap over the trench. However, as they cleared the first obstacle, a second trench loomed ahead! They plunged into it with cries of despair.
"Retreat, retreat! It's a trap!" Jesslyn shouted in terror, his voice filled with desperation and fear.
In truth, even without his command, the soldiers had already realized the danger and were turning their horses to flee. Anyone with a sane mind could see that this was a meticulously designed trap! Why stay and die?
Alas, the enemy had no intention of letting them escape. At that moment, a large force of cavalry burst from the dense woods to the west, their numbers astonishing.
From afar, the cavalry resembled a surging tide, seemingly endless, numbering well over a thousand.
"Buzzing, buzzing, buzzing..." Accompanied by a deafening twang of bowstrings, countless arrows rained down. The fleeing cavalry, caught completely unprepared, were met with a dense volley. Instantly, men and horses fell, screams and thuds filled the air, and chaos reigned.
Jesslyn, having just retreated from the camp, witnessed the horrifying scene. A chill ran down his spine, as cold as a plunge into an icy abyss. The enemy cavalry wielded unfamiliar long blades of incredible sharpness. As they galloped past, the defending cavalry were defenseless! A single swing could easily sever both horse and rider!
His unit was being cut to pieces like soft cheese against a hot knife. The air was filled with pitiful cries, a scene straight out of hell. As Jesslyn glanced at the battlefield one last time, a dark shadow hurtled towards him, aiming for his head!
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Outside Twin River City, the Stark army had been brutally divided into three segments. Bolton and Frey soldiers surrounded them like an impenetrable wall, leaving them no means of escape. At this point, the battle's outcome was clear; the Stark army had no chance of turning the tide.
With victory assured, Roose Bolton began to contemplate his next move. The Northern army had suffered crippling losses and was practically nonexistent. Without the support of an army, Robb would struggle to maintain his position as King in the North.
It was uncertain whether the Northern lords would continue to support House Stark. He would even consider releasing the Stark children in exchange for the safety of Domeric.
After all, Domeric was his heir, whom he had been grooming for years. Successfully exchanging them would be a favorable outcome for both sides.
However, Robb had to die today, no matter what, as only his death could eliminate this threat once and for all.
Garon could not be allowed to escape easily either, his power was too great. If he escaped, it would inevitably lead to endless trouble in the future. Neither he nor old Walder could withstand Garon's fierce retaliation.
Roose Bolton stared silently at the corpses scattered on the ground, a complex emotion stirring within him. He knew all too well that the cruelty of war was endless, but to restore his family's past glory and defend his own peace in the North, he had no choice...
Suddenly, the rapid sound of hooves echoed through the night sky, interrupting his thoughts. He looked up sharply, his gaze fixed on the dark distance. As the thunder of warhorses grew closer, it was clear that Balon and his men had successfully completed their mission. Roose Bolton's lips curled into a subtle, almost imperceptible smile.
However, his expression quickly changed. As a seasoned veteran, he sensed a slight tremor beneath his feet. This unusual vibration could not be caused by a mere thousand cavalry, even with the captured horses.
So, what was happening? A sense of foreboding washed over him. Roose Bolton frowned deeply, his eyes revealing unprecedented gravity.
Before he could ponder further, figures materialized on the battlefield like specters. They rode tall warhorses, both rider and mount clad in shimmering, jewel-like blue armor, wielding razor-sharp long blades. The flashing blades resembled the arrival of death itself.
Their appearance unleashed not only surging waves of blood and a field of shattered limbs and wreckage. These cavalry swept across the battlefield like a storm, emerging with a fierce and brutal force, resolutely choosing a direct and forceful frontal assault.
The Frey soldiers were the first to bear the brunt of the attack, utterly defenseless, instantly overwhelmed and scattered by this iron torrent. Even the recently rescued Stark soldiers could clearly feel the pervasive, overwhelming pressure. Having experienced betrayal, they were cautious and dared not act rashly.
The fierce cavalry continued their relentless assault, charging into other encirclements like a whirlwind. Each charge was filled with unmatched momentum and determination, as if tearing the enemy to shreds.
Wherever they went, Bolton and Frey soldiers were horrified, their hearts racing, filled with endless fear. Faced with such a fierce onslaught, they were helpless, able only to watch their comrades being cut down.
It was only at this moment that Roose Bolton finally understood what was happening. To his surprise, he saw a black and red dragon banner flying high behind the blue-armored cavalry, a striking sight. Even more unbelievable was that this cavalry numbered at least three or four thousand! He wondered how such a large army could have appeared here so silently. It was truly inconceivable!