Feet trod on the cracked earth, raising a cloud of yellowish dust.
Arthur reined in his horse and turned to look at the long procession stretching before him.
When he left Daisding City, he had left Lady Rona's four hundred new recruits at the lord's castle, taking his own nine hundred levies to join this so-called allied army.
The armies of the Breken Family and the Lechworth Family, totaling two thousand men, were tasked with pursuing and searching for the Ironborn.
However, this army, rather than pursuing, seemed to be wandering aimlessly through the Riverlands.
Just then, an old, shrill voice cut through the dull marching atmosphere: "All troops, heed my command! Turn onto the western path!
Quickly!"
Arthur looked in the direction of the voice. It was old Lord Lymon Lannister, the highest-ranking noble in the procession and the commander of the allied forces.
He stood on a high ground, waving his arms as if shooing away an invisible swarm of flies.
This was the third change of direction today, and a stir went through the ranks. Arthur's soldiers looked blankly at their 'Patriarchs,' who in turn looked helplessly at their 'Clan Leaders,' who then looked at Arthur.
Arthur frowned. Although he knew and understood that the nobles of the Riverlands all wanted to preserve their strength, and he felt the same way, the old man's performance was simply too clumsy.
One moment he would head east, claiming he had a premonition that the Ironborn had landed there. The next, he would turn around, saying he had a premonition they had already missed the Ironborn. Now, he wanted to dive into a small path leading to an unknown destination.
Arthur thought, 'Even though I want to muddle through with you, this isn't the way to do it. It'll be too obvious if word gets out.'
He made up his mind, preparing to ride forward and ask the commander what he truly intended to do.
A hand suddenly reached out and gently pulled his reins.
Arthur turned his head and saw a shrewd young face. It was Ser Hendry Breken, Lord Janos Breken's nephew and the leader of the Breken Family's troops.
Hendry lowered his voice: "Lord Arthur, please calm down."
Arthur looked at him with an inquiring gaze.
Hendry said no more, merely raising his hand and pointing helplessly to his own temple. Then, his finger pointed distantly towards Lymon Lannister, who was still gesticulating wildly, making a gentle circular motion with his hand.
There's something wrong here!
Arthur was stunned. 'No way, is it true?'
Hendry Breken leaned in closer, his voice almost inaudible: "During the Usurper's War, Lord Lechworth's sons, some followed the Targaryen, some followed Robert Baratheon."
A hint of sympathy tinged his voice.
"As a result... none of them returned."
"His family line has died out."
Arthur's pupils constricted slightly. So, the old man had mental problems.
Hendry looked at Arthur's expression, his tone full of helplessness: "Ever since then, his mind has been a bit... off."
Just then, a cold wind blew, rustling the fallen leaves. Arthur's eyes widened as he looked at Hendry, his gaze asking,'So,'
'The two thousand of us are now being commanded by someone with mental issues?'
Hendry Breken nodded silently, then forced a smile that was uglier than a cry.
Arthur was completely speechless.
Under Lymon Lannister's erratic command, the army halted once more. Soldiers sat in twos and threes on the ground, waiting blankly for the next nonsensical order.
Arthur and Hendry rode side-by-side, separating from the main force, slowly pacing along the flank. Hendry's gaze involuntarily fell upon the soldiers behind Arthur.
He noticed that Arthur's soldiers did not scatter loosely to find shade like his family's levies. Instead, they gathered in small squads, sitting in a circle, maintaining a defensive formation, with their weapons placed within easy reach.
They were not chaotic or quarrelsome, but silently shared their hardtack and water, exuding an aura that was out of place with this undisciplined allied army, as if they belonged to a different layer.
Seeing this, Hendry finally couldn't help but speak, asking curiously, "Lord Arthur."
"These people shouldn't all be soldiers raised by your family, should they?"
"Why do they behave so... differently from ordinary Riverlands commoners?"
After all, as far as he knew, the lord before him was only a minor lord, and should not have so many gold dragons to maintain such a large standing army of family levies.
Arthur glanced at him, his gaze calm, and said faintly, "It's very simple."
"Give them a future."
"What do you mean?" Hendry looked puzzled.
"If you are willing to give your soldiers a path, through which they can obtain things they wouldn't dare to dream of in their lives, be it gold dragons or something else, I think their performance won't be worse than my people's."
Hendry opened his mouth, somewhat shocked. 'A path, through which they can obtain things they wouldn't dare to dream of.' That's certainly easier said than done...
He seemed about to say something, but in the end, he just smiled bitterly and shook his head.
Just then, the sound of hooves interrupted their conversation. Lymon Lannister rode over, the madness on his face significantly receded, and his eyes even became somewhat clear.
He looked at Arthur and Hendry, and spoke in a relatively normal tone, "Lord Arthur, Ser Hendry."
"Do you have any suggestions for the direction of our march?"
This sudden sobriety caught both of them off guard, as the old man had been muttering to himself and acting extremely strangely, not interacting with others, ever since they set out.
Hendry reacted more quickly. He pointed to a winding river in the distance and replied practically, "My Lord, we should proceed along the Green Fork River. The river is where the Ironborn are most likely to appear."
Arthur also nodded in agreement. If they truly wanted to find the Ironborn, this was indeed the most basic and correct judgment.
But... he looked at the old Lyman, who had regained his senses, and with a thought, suddenly asked, "Lord Lechworth, I heard your castle was occupied by the Ironborn."
"With such a powerful army, why don't we try to recapture it?"
This question was like a stone thrown into a calm lake. A flicker of pain crossed Lymon Lannister's cloudy eyes, but he quickly concealed it.
He shook his head and said in an unusually clear tone, "My castle, though small, is easy to defend and difficult to attack."
"If our two thousand men attack it, and there are a few hundred Ironborn defending it to the death, we won't be able to take it. It would only increase our casualties."
"So, I plan to wait for the King's reinforcements to arrive in a month. By then, it won't be too late to recapture the castle."
This crazy old man, when sober, his thoughts were so clear. Arthur looked at him, an unspeakable surprise welling up in his heart. If he didn't know that the old man in front of him was truly mentally unstable, he would genuinely believe that the old man had mastered the essence of "preserving strength" to its fullest.
After speaking, the old man seemed to have exhausted all his energy. His eyes began to glaze over again. He no longer paid attention to the two of them, turning his horse's head on his own, muttering words no one could understand, and rode away.
Hendry Breken watched his retreating figure, a peculiar smile on his face, and told Arthur the real truth.
"Lord Arthur, the actual reason is that Lord Norbert Vance is unwilling to help him recapture his family castle."
"Because Lord Vance's mission from Riverrun is to hunt down the Ironborn. Helping Lechworth recapture his castle is clearly not his mission, and a siege would obviously incur huge losses."
"This is a thankless task. If there are no losses, then so be it, but if the losses are severe, it would be bad to stumble against the Ironborn."
'The Lechworth Family's own forces are also incapable of recapturing the castle alone.'
After Hendry finished speaking, the peculiar smile on his face turned into a knowing one. He unhooked his waterskin from his waist, twisted open the cap, and took a large swig of wine.
Then, he looked at Arthur, like a cunning fox, and posed the crucial question:
"Lord Arthur, would you be willing to shed your own people's blood for someone else's castle?"
2
Arthur glanced at him, then looked at the distant figure of the old man, muttering to himself, insane:
"Why not?"
"Pfft..."
Hendry abruptly spat out the mouthful of wine he had just drunk, the spray wetting his clothes.
He coughed violently, his face turning crimson.
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