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The next morning, there was silence in the town.
The men woke up, washed their faces, and prepared their armor. The squires busied themselves arming their knights or lords. The others sharpened their swords, and a few spent time with their horses.
Wylis had no squire, but he had help that day. Since he had spent quite a time with the men from Stormlands, commanding them in Robert's stead, a few of them helped him put on the armor. It was heavy and made for him. But it was quite simple.
A silver, shining, plate armor with big, round pauldrons that curved on the shoulders. His leg guards were also quite big and heavy, suitable for Wylis' size. Finally, he had a simple helmet, no shining ornaments, just a steel helmet, round on the top, no movable visor, merely two slits for his eyes.
Such simple armor. And yet, he looked the most imposing man in the entire army of slightly more than thirty thousand. He was already the tallest man in the field, and with his armor, he stood out more. And then his massive, six-foot-long sword, its shining golden rainguard caught eyes.
After that, he went out and met with Robert and Eddard. Both men had worn their finest armor. Robert looked imposing with his antler helmet and warhammer. Eddard's armor was still too simple, with not much plated armor on him.
Then, they all rode to the shore of the Trident. There was only one way to cross it, and it was no bridge, but a simple ford, a very shallow part of the river that allowed one to cross it on foot. It was on River Road, close to the Crossroads Inn.
"There's the fucker," Robert grumbled. On the other shore of the ford, they could see the royalist army gathered. It was massive, better armed than their own, but the leaders commanding the army looked rather weak. Just three Kingsguards and one Prince Rhaegar Targaryen in his fancy dark armor.
Fuck, I hate this helmet.
Wylis was fighting an entirely different battle. He'd never worn something that restrictive in a battle. He'd never participated in a battle that was going to be that chaotic. But at the same time, he couldn't afford not to wear it in order to win the Can't Touch Me quest reward.
And what's wrong with him? Wylis looked at Robert again. His face looked red, too red. At first, he suspected it was a hangover from the night before. But it still hadn't reduced.
"Spare no strength!" Robert bellowed. "Wylis, cover my right. Ned, take the left. I'll crush the silver-haired whoreson's chest like kindling!"
Can't let you do that, Robert. Wylis sighed and just nodded.
He looked ahead at the supposed battlefield and felt excited. Because it was a ford, most of the land was submerged. Once there, he wouldn't need to hold back his Earthbending. As long as he didn't create boulders out of the ground, he knew his kill rate would surpass any known man in the history of Westeros. One without a dragon, to be precise.
The Birth of the Tyrant quest is also involved. Wylis remembered. How in God's name do I bring the entire battlefield to a standstill for five seconds? By Killing Rhaegar? But that'd end the battle entirely.
"Men!" Robert blasted, his voice booming, his eyes red. He raised his warhammer high, already atop his mighty steed. "There is no greater glory than to end the mad reign of a tyrant! Once we win this battle, the road to King's Landing is ours—We will storm the city and set fire to the goddamn Mad King. Men, you fight not for me, but to end a bloodline rotten with madness, incest, and corruption. The Targaryens end today—And the greatest spawn of filth stands there! The rule of Targaryens ends today! We!... Will!... Win!... Today!"
"Haaaaaa!" Robert rushed forward with a war cry. The entire rebel army followed suit, pouring into the wide ford.
The Royalist army did the same and poured into the ford.
The earth vibrated. The air turned heavy. The war cries, clattering armors, and gallops were all one could hear. In that rush, no command, no order, no roar could stop anyone.
In that chaos, Wylis had already found his first first target. He had no desire to hold back. Not one bit. This was the end of the Rebellion. This was the final battle. If there was any name and fame to win, it was now.
"Caliburn, I'm counting on you, buddy!" Wylis rode faster than the rest of the men behind him. He didn't want to be squeezed between them. No, he wanted to leap into the enemy lines and reach his target.
His six-foot-long blade glinted on that bright day. He galloped fast, and with each passing moment, the enemy ranks came nearer.
Woosh!
At last, Caliburn leaped forward, all limbs in the air. The giant horse flew above the heads of the enemies.
"Whaaaaaa!" Wylis roared at the top of his lungs, his voice metallic and echoey due to that helmet. His right arm moved, swinging that massive blade with a single hand, and for some reason, the men near him found their feet not only stuck into the ground, but rather impaled by sharp spikes.
Slash!
Slash!
"Gaaaaah!"
"Ugh!"
To the left, to the right, Wylis swung his blade like he was cutting down grass around him. He beheaded the less armed men, and those with good armor got their skulls fractured, shoulders shattered, or ribs broken.
"Ha!" Wylis maneuvered his horse. "Faster, Caliburn! Faster!"
Clank! Clash!
He engaged a horsed knight, a Rhaegar bannerman holding a spear. That was the only weapon that could strike Wylis. But he was coated in armor, and…
"Ugh! Move, goddammit!"
The enemy's horse refused to move, as if all its limbs were stuck. And by then, Wylis was upon him.
Slash!
He stabbed and broke through a gap in the armor. He drove through the chainmail and impaled the knight on his blade entirely.
Bam!
As Wylis continued to gallop. The enemy knight got pulled along, still stuck on the blade, or rather, his dead body. Around them, the remaining royalist men began to hesitate. That display of barbaric strength was too much for their eyes. As if a god was fighting on that battlefield.
Fuck, the blade's stuck!
Wylis cursed and yanked his sword as hard as he could. But the sword still didn't come out.
Goddamit!
"Move!"
And just like that, he felt like he went from being the hunter to the hunted. The man who was his target was rushing towards him instead. Sword out, passing through the royalist men. Wylis knew he was a high-value target. He was practically driving the right flank of Robert.
"Move!" The enemy knight kept passing through the men towards him.
Fuck it!
Wylis made a quick decision and let go of his main sword, letting the dead body fall. He picked up the pace and rushed towards the incoming knight. He had a plan, a risky one, but one that he could pull off.
Jonothor Darry… Just a fucking shitguard.
Wylis glared at the incoming commander of Rhaegar's army. Killing him was bound to spread disarray.
"Move!"
Wylis didn't have to do anything. Ser Jonothor Darry was coming at him at full speed. And that was what Wylis wanted.
Splash!
Splash!
The water splashed around Caliburn's gallops.
The distance grew less.
Now!
Wylis used Earthbending. Touching ground while doing it enhanced his power to its true limit; he could still accomplish some tricks on horseback. He froze Jonothor's horse's front hooves. He froze them so hard that the impact was devastating.
Crack!
The horse's front legs cracked.
"Neeeeigh!"
The horse cried in pain and, with all its power, kicked back its hind legs as high as it could. And that was enough to send Ser Jonothor Darry flying through the air, right towards Wylis.
Bam!
"Gotcha!"
Wylis caught Ser Jonothor Darry midair. But instead of keeping the man up on the horse, he let him fall to the side. He hooked a hand under the knight's chin, practically hanging him by his head while the rest of his body was dragged, his feet thrashing on the splashing water.
"Faster, Caliburn!"
Wylis kept the horse running and took out a dagger from his side. He stabbed into Ser Jonothor's neck—one, two, three, as many times as he could. The Kingsguard kicked his feet, tried to stand, flailed his arms, but at the speed Caliburn was running, that was impossible.
"Glurk—Ugh~"
Blood sprayed from Ser Jonothor's throat. And Wylis still didn't stop. Instead of just stabbing, he started grinding the blade's length over the throat, like running a saw through a tree.
Ser Jonothor was dead already.
Wylis kept dragging that dead body.
He dragged it halfway across the battlefield and finally…
"Here's your commander!" Wylis roared and fully severed Ser Jonothor's head. He discarded the torso and raised the head high above him, showing it to the battlefield. "Here's your goddamn Kingsguard!"
It was as if time froze.
Wylis was tall.
Caliburn was tall.
Wylis raising a severed head above himself was like a flag hoisted above the battlefield for all to see.
And that severed head was far too easy to recognize. One of the four main commanders of the royalist forces. Kingsguard, Ser Jonothor Darry.
"Here, have your Kingsguard!" Wylis shouted and threw the severed head towards Rhaegar Targaryen at a distance.
And he almost hit the prince with it. But still, it fell close enough that Rhaegar saw it. As did the men around him. And when Rhaegar froze, the men around him froze.
Ting!
[Side Quest Completed - Birth Of A Tyrant
Description - Bring the entire battlefield to a five-second standstill during the Battle of the Trident.Reward - Battle Aura: 30% Strength boost in a battlefield.]
Oh! I can feel it!
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