With a clear objective, the army's march finally quickened.
Arthur and Lymon Lannister rode side-by-side, at the very front of the column. The old lord would occasionally speak loudly about his youthful adventures in Westeros, then fall into long silences, his lips moving as if conversing with unseen ghosts.
Hendry Bracken and his men followed at a polite yet distant remove, neither too close nor too far.
Ever since his frank words, the knights of the Leicester family had shown Arthur an unusual enthusiasm.
One Leicester family knight hunted a fat wild boar. After skinning and gutting it, he and his attendant brought half of the pork to Arthur's soldiers, a smile on his face that showed no discrimination toward the common folk before him.
The attendants stepped forward to offer the pork: "This is for Lord Arthur's warriors."
Arthur's soldiers were somewhat at a loss; this was truly the first time they had encountered such a thing. They looked to their lord, and the Leicester family knight also looked to Arthur, who nodded.
Only then did the knight, relieved, have his attendants set down the pork. He spurred his horse back to his own company, speaking in a low voice as he passed Arthur: "You are the only ones willing to help us."
"Lord Arthur."
Arthur responded politely to all of this, though he was not particularly moved. A more important thought constantly revolved in his mind: what was the current situation at Seaguard?
Ever since things had slipped out of his control, Arthur felt a certain anxiety. Was it because the developments weren't going as he wished?
He chuckled self-deprecatingly. His mindset was still too poor. How could things in the world always go as one wished? What was needed was to adapt to all changes, and within those changes, to have the ability to resolve crises and break deadlocks.
As the army delved deeper into the heartland of the Leicester territory, everyone fell silent. The air was thick with the smell of charcoal and decay.
Villages had been reduced to piles of black ruins, and the fields were covered in trampled marks and black ash, with no living soul in sight.
Crows cawed in the sky, and wild dogs rummaged through the rubble.
Several Leicester knights, eyes red, furiously galloped back and forth through the ruins, venting their unplaceable rage, while the peasant soldiers whose homes were here ran out of the ranks, knelt on the scorched earth, and let out suppressed sobs.
Lymon Lannister, who had been chattering incessantly and conversing with his non-existent sons, was now quiet. He stared blankly at everything before him, and for the first time, pure sorrow showed in his cloudy eyes.
Licester Castle finally appeared on the horizon. It was a square, small castle, standing alone on a cliff. The battlements were bustling with people, and flags fluttered, indicating at least three to four hundred defenders.
Arthur frowned slightly, feeling that something was amiss. He wondered if this was another Ironborn tactic of coercion and display of strength, but it provided a reason for his strategy of surrounding but not attacking, waiting for developments.
He looked at the silent Lymon Lannister, who seemed lost in confusion, and offered a suggestion: "Lord Laimon."
"We should first surround them and cut off their supplies."
Receiving no answer, Arthur turned his head. It seemed the old man was having another episode. In that case, he would give the orders himself.
However, the Leicester people, having witnessed the tragic state of their homes and lost everything, were already blinded by rage.
"Revenge!"
"Kill them all!!!"
"I will avenge my family!!!"
They would not listen to any advice. The knights led the charge towards the nearby woods, and the soldiers, wielding axes, began felling trees on the spot to construct the simplest siege ladders.
Amidst the growing chaos of the ranks, Lymon Lannister seemed to regain clarity.
He walked up to Arthur, his expression serious and solemn: "Lord Arthur, you are willing to help me reclaim my home. The Leicester family will never forget this kindness."
"But the most difficult battle ahead will be fought by our own Leicester family soldiers first. Rest assured, I will not let your men bleed for me."
Arthur shook his head: "My crossbowmen can provide cover for your army."
Although the crossbowmen firing from a low position upwards would have little effect, they could indeed provide some small amount of cover and assistance.
The horn of attack soon sounded, and the Leicester soldiers, driven by the fire of revenge, erupted with astonishing momentum. They carried crude scaling ladders and roared as they charged towards the castle walls.
However, they were met with a dense barrage of projectiles and continuously falling rolling stones. The makeshift ladders were easily pushed away as soon as they touched the battlements.
One knight, leading by example, and several farmers attempted to climb with their bare hands, but were doused with a pot of boiling pitch, screaming as they fell. The assault lasted less than an hour, and even with the cover of two hundred crossbowmen, it left over a hundred bodies beneath the walls before they retreated in disarray.
During the battle, Arthur kept a close eye on the battlefield, carefully observing the activity on the castle walls. He noticed a strange phenomenon: although there were many defenders on the walls, only a courageous and fierce group of about fifty people truly engaged in the bloody fighting.
Many more simply stood blankly behind, throwing small stones, even intentionally missing, pouring defensive liquids, and transporting some supplies, without shouting. Their faces lacked the grim determination of the Ironborn, showing only a numb fear. They were like a group of human shields tied to the castle walls.
The failure of the siege was a huge blow to Lymon Lannister. He was helped back to his tent, his mental state becoming extremely unstable again. He sat alone in a corner, muttering to the air.
Arthur intended to persuade him to abandon the direct assault and switch to a long-term siege.
But when he reached outside the tent, he heard arguing from within.
A knight was pleading earnestly: "Lord, our casualties are too great. Perhaps... perhaps we should ask Lord Arthur to have his army join the assault?"
A long silence fell over the tent.
Just as Arthur thought the old man was no longer capable of rational thought, a voice, though weary, rang out with unusual clarity: "No! My soldiers have not all died yet!"
"When everyone refused to help me, only Arthur extended a helping hand. How can I, to reduce my own losses, let his men suffer needless losses for my castle?"
"Pass on my order: starting tomorrow, we will switch to a siege."
Arthur, outside the tent, stopped in his tracks. He did not go in, but turned and quietly left. Regardless, the setback at the castle and the switch to a siege was a good outcome.
The next morning, Lymon Lannister sent for Arthur to join him for breakfast. His spirits seemed much improved, and there was even a sincere smile on his face.
He looked at Arthur, his tone solemn: "Lord Arthur."
"To thank you for your help! Once we reclaim the castle! I will give you a thousand gold dragons!"
Several Leicester knights in the tent were aghast and quickly spoke up.
"Lord Laimon! You... you're confused again!"
"Lord Arthur, please don't take it seriously! We..."
A thousand gold dragons, for the Leicester family, who had lost their family castle and were almost bankrupt, was nothing short of a massive bleeding.
The old man slammed his hand on the table, stood up, and roared: "I am perfectly clear! A thousand gold dragons! Not a single coin less!"
"Rather than some Leicester who appears from who knows where in the future to inherit my property and land!"
"I'd rather give it away myself!"
Seeing that the old man seemed determined to give such a large reward, the knights were shocked and stepped forward to dissuade him, signaling Arthur not to take it seriously. Arthur sat quietly, silent.
Just then, Hendry Bracken lifted the tent flap and walked in. He surveyed the chaotic scene, a faint smile playing on his lips.
His gaze swept over everyone in the tent: "The siege failed, with losses of men and horses. Do you regret not listening to me now?"
"It seems our pursuit operation has truly been fruitful."
The air in the tent instantly solidified, thick with tension. Arthur, who had been silent, slowly stood up.
He ignored Hendry's seemingly provocative remarks, his gaze fixed on the cloudy eyes of Lymon Lannister, who seemed to have fallen back into a state of madness and was muttering to himself.
"Lord Laimon."
"I accept your thousand gold dragons."
"Three days."
His voice was not loud, but it clearly carried throughout the entire tent.
"Within three days, I will reclaim the castle for you."
With that, he turned and strode away, leaving behind a tent full of stunned people.
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