The stars in the sky were beautiful, like a flowing river of silver, but a sudden horn blast shattered the night's silence.
Viserys immediately awoke from his half-sleep and got out of bed.
Viserys fastened his rapier to his waist and then pushed aside the tent's curtain.
Viserys's scale armor was as dark as black smoke; his dragon-wing helmet was the work of a Tyrosh blacksmith, shaped like a spread-winged dragon, looking very ferocious, with the dragon's wings painted red.
Firelight shone on the dragon's head, and Viserys's primary weapon on horseback was a spear.
"Rhaenys, why did you come here?" Viserys saw a Dornish-looking dark-haired girl run over.
"Of course I came to fight alongside you," Rhaenys said.
"Don't be silly." Viserys stroked her hair. "Go stay with Daenerys, listen to Syrio, and I'll handle the rest."
"Alright." Rhaenys obediently left. "Victory, Viserys..."
"Victory." Viserys watched the little girl leave again.
Viserys shouted, "Prepare for battle!" "Prepare for battle!"
The soldiers automatically lined up, though slightly flustered, they still showed clear discipline.
But this was their first time on a battlefield, and Viserys was already very satisfied. Just like forging iron, discipline and order were hammered into the soldiers' bodies, forming a specialized muscle memory.
Elites are not trained; they are forged through performance in battle.
As a transmigrator, Viserys actually knew a little about military matters.
After all, in an age of information explosion, everyone possessed a large amount of fragmented information, broad but not deep, but enough for stirring things up and fooling people.
All modern warfare ultimately comes down to discipline and order, technology, and logistics.
But in this era of classical warfare, the commander's bravery and luck still accounted for a large proportion.
Under the hazy moonlight, the native soldiers of Westeros prayed to the "Warrior" before the battle began.
The Warrior is one of the Seven Gods, the deity worshipped by all knights.
"Warrior protect us!" Ser Roland shouted.
"Warrior protect us!" All the soldiers called out the Warrior's name; in blood and fire, they most longed for the Warrior's protection tonight.
Viserys's fishing succeeded; the local Andal bandits had impatiently taken the bait.
As the sounds of horns and war drums struck people's hearts, the local Andal bandits clearly knew their plan had been exposed.
The Andals no longer secretly concealed their intention for a night raid but revealed themselves entirely and began a frontal assault.
"Kill."
"Charge into the stronghold, plunder food and women, grab what you can and leave."
"We don't want this stronghold; we just want supplies."
The Andal bandits made loud noises; the sound of fire and the strange cries of soldiers mixed together, shattering the tranquility of the area.
Viserys heard the calls of these bandits and understood why they didn't want the stronghold, only food and women.
These bandits usually lived in villages or caves, forming small groups, and dared not launch large-scale attacks or construct settlements.
This was also out of fear of being attacked by surrounding city-state forces, and even more so, fear of the dothraki who frequently crossed the river, because the dothraki would destroy every town and fortress like locusts.
Making a stone fortress large was tantamount to offending the dothraki's beliefs.
"There are quite a few people," Ser Roland said.
Under the veil of night, it was unclear how many bandits had come, but judging by the sound, there were at least several times more than Viserys's group.
Viserys ascended the watchtower and saw the dark figures approaching along the hills in front, indeed possessing a certain momentum.
"Rely on the strong fortress; one can stand against ten," Viserys said calmly as he descended the watchtower.
Seeing their commander so composed, the other soldiers' moods slowly calmed down.
In the era of classical warfare, the commander's qualities were also crucial.
"Given time, we might yet fight Robert and Tywin again." Ser Roland looked at Viserys's performance, very satisfied in his heart.
It was as if a second son he had hesitantly supported turned out to be an SSR-level formidable character...
With thunder in his chest but a calm face, Viserys was slowly adapting to his identity.
As a commander, he should possess such psychological fortitude, and his sword had already tasted much blood.
Viserys's state of mind had grown increasingly cold and hard after he poisoned the servants who tried to abscond with valuables, and killed Bello, Titan's Bastard, and others.
In this man-eat-man era, he had to transform into the strongest beast to reach the other shore.
"Warrior!" Viserys raised his spear and shouted. "Warrior protect us!"
"Warrior!" All the soldiers shouted the deity's name.
Viserys composed himself; it was wartime, and he had to achieve ultimate victory. The Andals had crossed the river; there was only a fight to the death.
"Logs, rolling stones, prepare! Fire!" Following Ser Roland's command, the soldiers pushed the already prepared materials towards the not-so-tall city walls.
"Boom!"
Logs and crushed stones rumbled down according to physical principles, crushing into the bandit Team Team climbing the hills like giant rocks falling from above.
For a time, the battlefield turned into a bloody storm, with screams and wails echoing continuously.
"Retrieve!" Viserys commanded; they had released most of them, but still kept some logs.
"Victory!" "Victory!" The morale of Viserys's defenders clearly soared; as defenders, they already enjoyed a certain advantage.
"Longbowmen! Fire!"
"Crossbowmen, wait for the enemy to get closer." Ser Roland commanded; he also had some longbowmen under him, but they were difficult to train in a short time. Crossbows were simpler, but their range was indeed too short.
The best at spearmanship and archery right now were Viserys and Ser Roland.
"Has the side gate not been discovered?" Viserys asked.
"Don't worry, it's very concealed," Ser Roland said; the side gate would play a crucial role.
"Still not enough technology," Viserys thought. Normal towers should also have trebuchets, pitch barrels, and flamethrower crossbows. At present, he was keeping everything simple, not arming Westeros Fort to the teeth.
The high-altitude defensive network organized by log handlers, longbowmen, and crossbowmen slowly reduced its firepower; after all, manpower was relatively limited.
The Andal bandits were already roaring and ramming the main gate with battering rams, and some bolder ones attempted to scale the walls. However, under the archers' fire from the watchtower, they continued to try and shatter the main gate.
"Shields ready!" "Spearmen ready! Form a crescent shape."
The walls of this stone castle were not high, and Viserys had already begun to order the shieldmen to form the first line of defense. The soldiers lined up, holding specialized oak round shields.
The front rank was arranged in a spear phalanx, and as for the remaining infantry, they held various weapons: pitchforks, flails, meteor hammers, axes—whatever they were familiar with.
Viserys listened to the sound of the wooden gate being rammed and people falling from the city walls, knowing it was a good time.
"Follow me."
Viserys mounted his black steed, and Ser Roland and dozens of other cavalrymen rode out with him from the concealed side gate, then pursued.
All these horses were muzzled, serving as cavalry in the darkness.
The enemy had suffered considerable casualties and was now completely red-eyed.
"Crack!" "Crack!" After enduring multiple heavy impacts from battering rams, the not-so-sturdy gate of Westeros Fort was finally breached by the enemy.
"Hold steady!" "Hold steady!" the Tyrosh blacksmith shouted.
The Andals initially thought they had achieved a great victory, but to their surprise, a line of long spears thrust forward, forming a hedgehog formation, pushing the enemies back out of the gate opening.
Long spears pierced the enemies who had charged ahead, and blood flowed in the not-so-wide gate opening.
"What's going on!"
"What's going on!" The local Andals were startled; these newcomers clearly had a certain level of regular army discipline.
But the bandit leaders who had arrived together had no better choice; their sunk costs were too high.
Now, with heavy losses, if they couldn't recoup their costs, they would be in trouble.
One of the enemy's horses was impaled by a spear, then neighed and fell forward, creating a gap in the regular spear formation.
"Charge!"
"Charge!" the Andal leader shouted happily.
Unexpectedly, the joy turned into fear in the next instant.
From the darkness on the side of Westeros Fort, the thunderous sound of hooves suddenly erupted, and dozens of black-armored knights roared as they charged into battle.
Tall horses, unstoppable bravery.
Viserys, as the vanguard, was leading the charge.
Ferocious dragon horns gleamed with fire, and the red dragon wings made him seem like a demon of war.
Impaling enemies, slaughtering; it was a continuous slaughter.
Viserys listened to the whistling wind; it felt like a 'Mount and Blade' experience.
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