After Dickon Tarly returned to the Reach camp, activity erupted like a flood. Figures swarmed outward from every corner, filling the surrounding forest with the sound of axes, saws, and hurried footsteps.
The trees were the first to suffer. Soldiers, like an army of ants, gnawed through the lush greenery with precision and speed, felling massive trunks as if the forest itself were merely a feast to be devoured. By dusk, the cut timber had been gathered, along with wagons and livestock, and pulled back into the sprawling camp.
Even at night, the Reach camp glowed like a small city. Eddard Karstark, standing atop the city wall, retrieved House Frey's prized golden telescope. Extending it carefully, he observed the entire scene with startling clarity.
Soldiers selected the longest, straightest branches, binding them together with iron nails and leather ropes to form long, narrow frames. Once covered with waterproof canvas, these crude constructions became makeshift rafts. Crossing the turbulent Green Fork River—hundreds of meters wide—on such fragile devices would be suicidal. Yet, on the calm moat outside Twin River City, even these crude rafts could serve a purpose.
Nearby, strong, burly men wielded axes, cutting massive logs into manageable sections. Soldiers sawed them into planks of varying thickness, then carried them away, nailing them together with pieces from supply wagons to form shielded carts capable of protecting troops from arrows. Beyond the camp's perimeter, other groups labored, filling sacks with dirt and transporting them to the front lines, likely to reinforce the moat and prepare for siege works.
Two-thirds of the ten thousand men were engaged in preparations, their coordination remarkable. Young Dickon Tarly rode tirelessly through the camp, issuing commands, correcting mistakes, and directing construction with a mixture of urgency and precision. Sweat streaked his young face, but he showed no sign of slowing down.
Eddard lowered the golden telescope, caressing the rubies and sapphires inlaid on it. Beside him, the burly man in shackles—Randyll Tarly—watched the activity with evident frustration.
"Lord," Eddard said conversationally, "your son has certainly learned a great deal. He reflects well on House Tarly and its reputation for martial valor."
Randyll snorted, scowling. "He's still far from it. Were I in command, I would have the cavalry form two thousand-man companies, ride overnight to positions upstream and downstream of Twin River City, establish temporary camps, and once the water stabilized, force a crossing. Then I'd compel the west bank residents to fill the moat and build siege ladders. Twin River City's meager garrison would collapse in less than half a day!"
Eddard nodded, giving a respectful clap. "Indeed. Your strategy fully leverages numerical advantage and pressure. It's excellent… if one could act before the enemy captures the city. Which, fortunately, I did first."
Randyll's face darkened. "Boy, if this were a battle between two equal armies, you'd have no chance against me!"
"Lord Tarly, that is irrelevant," Eddard replied with a chuckle. "Winning and losing often depend on timing, opportunity, and the circumstances, not just raw skill."
He gestured broadly to the city and the surrounding land. "Imagine if the Targaryens had no dragons. Could they have defeated six kingdoms and comfortably ruled the Iron Throne? And if they still had dragons, could Robert Baratheon have claimed victory? Sometimes, success is dictated not by the sword alone, but by strategy and adaptability."
Randyll said nothing, gritting his teeth in reluctant acknowledgment. Eddard continued, smiling as he tossed the telescope to Angai. "Keep watch over their main camp. Report any unusual movements immediately."
Then, turning back to the restrained lord, he added with mock cheer, "And you, Lord Tarly, enjoy your fresh air time. I have work to do, so stay put in the tower and avoid causing trouble. Twin River City's black cells are damp and uncomfortable… not the best company for anyone, even you."
Randyll shuffled off, shackles clinking ominously against the stone floor.
---
By early morning, a shout startled Eddard from his slumber.
"Lord! The enemy has started to move!"
It was Abel, one of his scouts.
"Understood. Alert the men to prepare for battle. I'm on my way!" Eddard replied, rubbing his hands together for warmth, then patting his cheeks to chase away the last remnants of sleep.
Patrolling the city walls last night had been essential. Eddard had moved among House Karstark soldiers, the local townsfolk, members of the Brotherhood Without Banners, and even newly recruited prisoners. With ten thousand enemy troops surrounding the city, he needed every man to feel confident in his leadership. A calm demeanor, a smiling face, and measured words could bolster morale, even in the face of overwhelming odds.
Stepping onto the walls at sunrise, Eddard was nearly blinded by the brilliance of the morning sun. The light shimmered over the city, glinting off the towers and walls. Today would be decisive. Perhaps even the idle heavens wished to witness this conflict.
Outside, the enemy had formed a formidable line. At least two thousand heavily armored infantry marched in neat formations, pushing shielded carts toward the moat. Their movements reminded Eddard of massive, armored turtles slowly advancing across the land.
Behind them, a thousand archers checked their longbows and adjusted quivers, clad in studded boiled leather and kettle helmets. The commanding officer unfurled a white banner emblazoned with a golden, radiant tree, signaling the unit's identity.
At the rear, skirmishers carried sacks of dirt, rafts, and siege ladders. They were agile and abundant, moving within the shielded formation like fish darting through underwater currents. At the very end, a swift hunter's banner fluttered in the breeze. Dickon Tarly sat astride his horse, bright in his armor, commanding the formation with precision.
Eddard's gaze narrowed. That boy was planning to make a show of force immediately. Taking the telescope from Angai, he observed Dickon's cold, expressionless face, so reminiscent of his father's.
The city walls of Twin River City were thirteen to fourteen meters high, forming a jagged, irregular rhombus shape. Towers and watchtowers adorned the walls, a legacy of House Frey's centuries-long obsession with fortification. Repelling ten thousand attackers should be impossible with only a few hundred defenders—but Eddard had faith in strategy, timing, and morale.
Of his six hundred men, over sixty cavalry needed to remain mobile, guarding potential crossing points. The Brotherhood contributed sixty-eight infantry, and Eddard armed them with weapons found in city warehouses. One hundred twenty-eight newly recruited prisoners were dispersed under officer supervision to prevent unrest. Even then, less than five hundred men remained for active defense, with only three hundred stationed directly on the walls.
Then, the enemy horns blared—loud, piercing, and rhythmic, like a pulse of life erupting from the soil itself.
The heavily armored infantry, divided into four teams, raised their shields emblazoned with red hunters, forming an almost impenetrable wall.
"Advance! Keep the rhythm!" officers shouted. To the beat of their drums, the soldiers marched forward, approaching the moat with mechanical precision.
Next came the skirmishers, agile and swift. They darted between the shield walls, hurling sacks of dirt into the moat to fill it and reinforce their advance.
Eddard gave a calm, steady command. "Fire!"
Sixteen giant crossbows loosed their bolts in unison. "Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!" The air was pierced by iron-tipped arrows, penetrating shields and armor. Heavy infantry fell instantly, impaled like candied hawthorns, their comrades' faces showing neither shock nor hesitation—they were well accustomed to such carnage.
Angai, gripping a newly acquired golden longbow, narrowed his eyes at the next target. "Bullseye!" Eddard praised, his voice carrying across the battlefield. "Well done! That bow is yours, soldier. Earn it with skill!"
Angai smirked, drawing another arrow, his movements fluid and deadly. Every shot he fired tore through the enemy formation, sowing chaos and fear even before the walls of Twin River City.
Outside, the battle had only just begun. And already, Eddard knew: victory would require more than courage. It would demand strategy, precision, and the unbreakable will of those who defended the city against overwhelming odds.
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