At midnight, the moon hid its radiance behind a layer of clouds, as if it couldn't bear to watch the bloody battle about to unfold.
Trebuchets and arrows descended like a summer storm and winter hail simultaneously, a dense barrage suppressing the defenders on the walls.
In the blink of an eye, the Western soldiers guarding the ramparts found there was almost nowhere to stand; shattered stone fragments from the trebuchet shots littered the ground everywhere.
They could only curl their bodies tightly against the corners of the walls; the slightest carelessness would result in being struck by a stray arrow.
"Get up! Fight back! Get up!"
The commanding officer roared. He had already seen the enemy below carrying a battering ram as thick as a pillar, approaching the gates.
But his voice was completely drowned out by the screams of battle and the thud of impacts from below.
Jon sat in the center of the army, observing the battle situation in all directions through his "golden finger" [warg ability/god's eye view].
Even counting the hastily trained miners, the Golden Tooth currently had no more than two thousand defenders. The number of actual combat-ready soldiers was probably just over a thousand.
Compared to the besieging army, that was a twenty-to-one disparity. Of course, Jon wasn't foolish enough to throw all his soldiers into a frontal assault.
The Golden Tooth was flanked by mountains. Although steep, they weren't impossible to climb. There were defenders up there, but they couldn't withstand the terrifying number of climbing attackers; they simply weren't prepared to defend against an assault of over twenty thousand men.
Using his ravens, Jon had mapped out over sixty climbing routes for the army. These paths were packed with soldiers, looking from afar like tightening nooses.
The vanguard of these "nooses" was composed of heavy infantry clad in full plate armor and carrying thick shields, with archers providing cover from behind.
Every so often, a soldier would hold up a torch. The higher these climbing paths went, the more they converged, until they transformed into fiery dragons ascending to the mountain peaks.
"Daven actually moved the troops away." Brynden, who was also commanding the attack, clearly sensed the defense was weaker than he expected.
Originally, they thought Jon's order for a night assault was just him getting impatient. They hadn't expected that joke of a strategy to actually work.
Brynden estimated there were fewer than two hundred men blocking them on the mountain ridges. Extrapolating from that, the entire garrison of the Golden Tooth wouldn't exceed two thousand.
Defending such a massive fortress with only two thousand men was virtually impossible; right now, there were holes everywhere.
What method did he use? Brynden couldn't help but recall Jon's words from that day, still puzzled.
He had served as the Knight of the Gate in the Vale for over a decade, guarding the Bloody Gate for the Vale and House Arryn.
In Brynden's eyes, the Golden Tooth was a second Bloody Gate. Though not as perilous as the Bloody Gate, its lethality was no different.
That was why he had initially suggested Jon attack from the south, so they wouldn't be stuck in front of the Golden Tooth with nothing to show for it.
But now... Brynden looked at the firelight spreading across the mountains and knew that Daven could not hold the Golden Tooth under these circumstances.
Just then, a messenger with a Riverlands accent came to Brynden and said, "Ser Brynden, Lord Jon orders the Golden Tooth taken before dawn. You need to speed up the attack!"
"Understood."
Brynden drew his sword, lowered his visor, and headed for the front lines.
After Robb laid down his crown and chose to accept the title of Prince, Rickard Karstark had spoken to him about Tywin. Rickard felt partially responsible for Tywin's escape, so he handed Karhold over to his son Harrion early and stayed behind to help Jon.
As for Brynden, Rickard told him to do as he saw fit.
Brynden was no fool. After careful analysis, he realized the significance of Jon's mutiny and capture of King's Landing.
If the Tyrells and Lannisters ultimately won, people like them would be trapped and starved to death in the Riverlands.
If Robb wanted to return to the North, the armies of Tyrell and Lannister would surround them at the Twins before they could breach it.
At that point, everything would be lost.
So Brynden decided to use the rest of his life to help Jon. If he died on the road to conquering the Westerlands, it would be a small atonement for his mistakes.
On the other side, Jon continued to monitor the entire battlefield. He noticed the speed of Brynden's attack had suddenly increased, seemingly disregarding the cost.
However, he didn't mind. With so few defenders left in the Golden Tooth, no matter how tenacious they were, they couldn't inflict many casualties.
Gawen Westerling was fighting fiercely too. Considering Gawen's special status as Jeyne's father, Jon assigned Sandor to protect him.
Both were Westermen and familiar with mountain warfare, so their progress wasn't slow either.
Only Rickard seemed a bit slow. Being the oldest and having to climb a mountain while fighting took a massive toll on his stamina.
But his will was the strongest. The "Kingslayer" Jaime had killed two of his sons. Even though Jaime had gone to the Wall, Rickard couldn't swallow his anger.
He decided that killing at least two Lannisters with his own hands would settle the score.
As for Garlan and Loras, Jon didn't let them fight on the front lines.
Given Mace's doting nature, if anything happened to those two, the consequences would be unpredictable. If Mace decided to lead troops into battle personally, Jon might lose his grip on the war's direction.
Being barred from combat made Loras anxious. He wanted to be the first on the walls.
"Jon, let me charge once. Look at the soldiers on the walls; they can't even lift their heads under fire."
"No. My strategy worked, and I am still the Commander-in-Chief. Your mission is complete," Jon said with a half-smile, looking at Loras who was practically hopping with impatience.
"Running around with soldiers counts as a mission? I want to kill enemies!" Loras retorted, his neck stiff. "I'm going to siege now, otherwise—" He put his hand on his sword hilt.
"Otherwise what?!" Loras thought Jon would brush him off with a joke like before, but the young man, two years his junior, suddenly changed his expression. "I am the Commander-in-Chief of this army, Ser Loras. Do not disobey my orders, or you will face military law!"
Jon stood up and looked down at Loras, causing him to subconsciously take two steps back.
Ghost, lying nearby, also stood up and stared at him with scarlet eyes. Though the wolf didn't bare his fangs, the threat was palpable.
In the end, although Loras mumbled something under his breath, he turned and left.
"How is this possible!"
Reaching the tower, Daven watched the dense barrage of arrows and trebuchet shots below. his scalp tingled, and the hand bracing against the wall unconsciously clenched into a fist.
"My lord, look at the mountain!" his squire suddenly shouted.
Daven turned to look where the squire pointed. Before he could see clearly, the wound on his back tore open, making him grimace in pain.
Although Lefford's strike hadn't been fatal, a large patch of skin and flesh had been cut open. He could feel blood soaking his shirt.
Suppressing the pain while no one noticed, Daven looked again. The distant mountains were lit up by torches. Points of fire were constantly converging towards the peaks, and many summits were already occupied by the light.
Daven knew it wouldn't be long before those "firelights" burned down to the Golden Tooth from both sides. Judging by the number of torches, the besieging army was definitely no less than twenty thousand!
Daven knew exactly how many defenders were left in the Golden Tooth. He knew these men couldn't withstand an attack of twenty thousand.
The Golden Tooth likely wouldn't last until morning, and Daven probably wouldn't see tomorrow's sunrise. The only thing that made him feel slightly better was that the order to move troops came from Casterly Rock.
He didn't know what method Jon used, but he guessed both he and Tywin had been deceived.
"Order the army to retreat from the Golden Tooth immediately!" Daven finally made the decision. After all, if not for Tywin's order to move troops, the Golden Tooth wouldn't be falling.
"Yes, my lord."
Just as he was preparing to leave, a messenger claiming to be from Casterly Rock asked to see him.
After verifying his identity and confirming he had indeed rushed from Casterly Rock, Daven personally had him brought forward.
"Ser Daven, Duke Tywin asks you: why do you keep sending troops elsewhere? He explicitly told you to hold your position and defend the Golden Tooth!"
"What did you say?! Defend?!"
For a moment, Daven felt his brain short-circuit, as if someone had clubbed him on the back of the head while he wasn't looking. The world spun.
"Speak clearly! Lord Tywin clearly told me to send troops to support the southern battlefield!" Daven questioned with a sense of grievance, but the besieging army gave him no time.
"My lord, the city gates have been breached!"
"What?!"
Daven went to a high vantage point and saw an army in silver-white heavy armor breaking through the gates, unstoppable as a flood. Behind them was an endless stream of soldiers.
Seeing the banner that blended almost perfectly with the night, save for the leaping white wolf head, Daven's legs suddenly felt weak. He didn't know if it was from exerting himself too much in Lady Lefford's room earlier, or from being overwhelmed by the enemies in front and the accusations from behind.
But he still made his choice.
"With me! Drive the enemy out!" Daven drew his sword and roared, leading the fewer than one hundred soldiers around him to meet the enemy.
Although he said he would drive the enemy out, Daven knew in his heart that he would likely die in this charge.
Only in death could he answer for the fall of the Golden Tooth.