It was another sunny day. The blue sky was dotted with four or five white clouds, and the ice and snow on the ground slowly melted under the warm sunlight. Even the towering gray-white glacier walls began to "sweat," as glistening droplets of water gathered together and flowed into a small stream.
On this peaceful and serene morning, some instructors were training young Night's Watch recruits in the yard, while other Night's Watch members shouted loudly as they directed the giant captives to carry bricks and build walls.
Dany was also in the yard, standing before a large round table. Maester Aemon had spread out a detailed map of the lands beyond the Wall across it. Several Night's Watch members and Ygritte stood around the table, discussing where the White Walkers might be found.
Having resolved the wildlings' southern invasion crisis for the Night's Watch, Dany was ready to proceed with the next step of her plan: locate some fresh wights and White Walkers, test their strength, and ideally capture one alive.
Suddenly, a faint horn sounded from the sky. Moments later, Grenn, on duty atop the Wall, shouted urgently down toward Castle Black: "Rangers! They're charging at the wildling camp!"
"Rangers? Night's Watch rangers?" the blacksmith Donal called out, craning his neck.
"Eastwatch rangers," Grenn answered from above.
"Has Cotter Pyke gone mad?!" Bowen Marsh and the others were shocked.
But Dany's heart stirred—she guessed what might be happening: Stannis had arrived.
Everyone immediately rushed up the zigzagging wooden stairs, jogging to the top of the Wall.
Wearing black mail, black half-helms, and black wool cloaks over their shoulders, about forty to fifty rangers in uniform advanced in a scattered arc from the east. They picked their way around tree roots and rocks, weaving between bushes and trees, slowly pressing toward the wildling camp.
The wildlings reacted swiftly. Without hesitation, they poured out of their tents in groups, cursing loudly—"Cowardly crow ambush! The dragon queen breaks her word!"—while wielding wooden clubs, bronze swords, and stone axes, throwing themselves recklessly at their mortal enemies.
The rangers quickened their pace with short strides, dodging the wildlings' heavy weapons and easily cutting through leather armor with their cold-glinting longswords, stabbing wildlings through the chest.
The wildlings had no formal military training, didn't know how to form ranks or charge in unison. Like waves, they attacked in separate batches and died heroically.
Some rangers were dragged from their horses and slain, yet none retreated. Like the wildlings, they fought with fearless resolve.
But gradually, more and more wildling forces—infantry, giants, mounted warriors, and even mammoths carrying wooden forts with archers—poured in from all directions, overwhelming the ranger formation.
The rangers finally couldn't hold the line. Their formation broke, and they fled chaotically into the forest.
"Your Grace, what now? Commander Cotter's men can't hold out!" Ser Glendon Grell said anxiously.
"Don't worry, the wildlings have fallen into the trap," Dany replied calmly.
"What?"
While everyone was still puzzled, the wildling cavalry caught up with the fleeing rangers. The rangers scattered in all directions, pursued by laughing, cheering wildlings who slashed at them all the way to the forest edge.
"TOOT TOOT TOOT TOOT!" The blaring of a charge horn rang out sharply.
A fully armored cavalry force suddenly burst from the forest, surging past the rangers.
The wildlings were stunned. One Magnar shouted for the wildling cavalry to regroup around him to prepare for the ironclad assault, but the heavy cavalry was already accelerating, and the scattered wildling horsemen couldn't form up in time.
"TOOT TOOT TOOT TOOT—" Even more terrifying, charge horns now echoed from the east, northeast, and north.
Wildlings realized with horror that enemies surrounded them on all sides—fearsome ironclad monsters.
In reality, there were only three cavalry units, and only the one charging from the northeast was made up of full heavy cavalry—around 200 riders.
The other two units, numbering four to five hundred each, consisted mainly of light horsemen in short leather vests and round helmets, mounted archers, and regular infantry without horses.
What made them truly terrifying were their leaders: nearly two hundred true knights, clad in shining steel plate and bright wool surcoats, each bearing noble house sigils on their chests.
The knights charged from two directions: one armored torrent burst from the northern forest, crashing into the wildlings' midsection; another unit rode along the base of the Wall from the east, sweeping in a curved arc to strike the other flank.
The rangers had acted as bait, luring the wildling main force forward. Then, a frontal heavy cavalry unit blocked them head-on, while two flanking units closed in like pincers, cutting through the wildling army's middle.
A simple tactic—one that would hardly work against trained armies of the Seven Kingdoms—but the wildlings had no formations, fought in tribal clusters, and lacked any effective command structure.
They ran in confusion, some charging into the fray with war cries, others fleeing in terror.
One Magnar tried to rally them with war drums and form ranks, but the wildlings were too slow, too disorganized—opposite them stood hundreds of disciplined, battle-hardened knights.
The wildling army was fragmented and scattered. Their camp was trampled by iron hooves, ignited by flaming arrows, and fire leapt from tent to tent.
Nearby ironwood, pine, and soldier trees caught fire too. Smoke filled the sky, battle cries roared like thunder… Everything Dany had refrained from doing—Stannis had done it all.
That's right—the stag with two hearts had arrived!
Amid the blood and fire, a striking banner stood tall. A five-meter pole held a flag as large as a bedsheet: one side golden-yellow, a flaming red heart outlined in fiery tongues; the other side glittered like gold leaf, embroidered with a crowned black stag.
The flaming heart crowned stag sigil of Stannis Baratheon.
The ironclad knights charged into the camp, shouting:
"Long live Stannis! Long live the Lord of Light! Long live King Stannis, Son of Fire!"
"Roar—!" A snow bear the size of a carriage burst out from the forest, roaring as it swung a paw as large as an iron pot. A noble knight carrying a banner with a black dagger piercing a red heart was smashed into a pulp along with his horse.
The massive snow bear then charged into the cavalry squad, its claws gleaming as it slaughtered mercilessly. Its snow-white fur was soon stained with blotches of blood—both its enemies' and its own. A 20-man cavalry unit was almost entirely wiped out in less than the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea.
But as the giant bear rushed toward the next squad, a stunning sight appeared: a woman in a red robe with red hair calmly rode her horse forward as if strolling in a garden, blocking the bear's path. With just a glance—she simply looked at the snow bear—she spurred her horse onward.
"Boom!"
The snow bear suddenly seemed drenched in gasoline and lit by a match. In an instant, its massive body was engulfed in yellow flames.
"Awooo—" The giant bear howled, rolling on the ground. Even the watchmen on the city wall could clearly feel its agony and rage.
No matter how it struggled, the flames showed no sign of going out. On the contrary, they ignited nearby tents and trees.
But in Dany's ears, she heard another voice—a man's wail, a scream from the depths of the soul.
"Chirp!" A hawk pierced through the clouds, diving like an arrow under the blue sky toward the red-robed, long-haired woman.
At the same time, three gray wolves and a shadow lynx the size of a warhorse raced through the crowd, silently creeping up to the red-robed priestess.
The moment the hawk, lynx, and three wolves attacked simultaneously from ground and sky, time seemed to slow dramatically. From the dragon spirit's perspective, Dany could even see the mocking smile at the corner of the priestess's lips.
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"Boom—Boom—Boom—Boom—Boom!"
With a gentle wave of her sleeve, the four beasts on the ground and the hawk 500 meters in the air all burst into flames simultaneously.
"Awooo—" The man's soul-wrenching howl rang out again, full of venom and despair.
The hawk turned into a fireball and crashed into the woods. The three wolves and the lynx, with flames licking half their bodies, howled and fled deep into the snowy forest.
"What happened? Why are the bear and the hawk on fire?" Dr. Perestan asked in confusion.
Dany glanced at him with contempt. "Aren't you still wearing your Valyrian steel chain? Such a spectacular and intense mage duel, and you didn't notice?"
"Mage? A skinchanger?" the old man asked.
"The strongest wildling skinchanger, the 'Six-Formed One,' battled Stannis's Red Priestess—and was utterly defeated, barely able to fight back," Dany said flatly.
"How tragic!" a Night's Watch brother suddenly cried out.
Heavy cavalry had broken through the wildling's mixed force of cavalry and infantry, colliding with the giants at the rear. Like mischievous children playing with rag dolls, the giants easily lifted the armored knights off their horses, tearing off heads and limbs.
One giant, four meters tall, held a heavy knight's legs in each hand, raised them above its head, and yanked hard. Red blood, blue intestines, and brown liver spilled into the giant's gaping mouth.
"Roar—" Chewing on a knight's entrails, the giant used both hands to hurl the remains like cannonballs, striking two heavily armored knights. Their horses neighed as they were thrown four or five paces back.
Stannis's three cavalry units, including foot soldiers without mounts, totaled no more than 1,500 men. Of those, only just over 200 were heavy cavalry tasked with holding back the wildling horde.
But there were over a hundred mounted mammoth-riding giants, and more than 300 barefoot giant infantry charging forward.
Against wildling cavalry and infantry wielding wooden clubs and bronze weapons, the heavy cavalry were like tigers among sheep, ravaging their enemies like iron pots smashing glass jars. But against the "True·Ultra-Heavy·Giant·Infantry," a single clash felt like an iron pot hitting a hydraulic press.
"Bang!" A giant swung a tree trunk, and a knight was sent flying like a baseball, soaring at least 12 meters high and landing on the opposite end of the battlefield.
"How terrifying the giants are… Stannis's heavy cavalry is doomed," said Ser Melisandre, face pale.
In less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the last armored knight was torn apart by the giants.
Nearly 200 heavy cavalry were annihilated, while the giants lost only two slightly-over-three-meter "shorties."
"Roar, roar, roar—" The giants roared in fury, their gray-white fur soaked in blood, charging toward the Wall.
Ugh, those slow-witted fools still thought some queen had betrayed them and ambushed the wildling camp!
Indeed, the wildling camp had been full of chants like "Shame on the Dragon Queen for her sneak attack." But when they saw the burning red heart stag banner fluttering in the wind, most of the wildlings fell silent.
Even if they didn't understand the symbol of the burning heart, they could at least see it wasn't a three-headed dragon.
"Your Majesty, should we go out and help them?" Bowen Marsh leaned over and whispered.
"Help who?"
"Uh, the giants are brutal… it looks like the wildlings might turn the tide," the pomegranate steward huffed.
"Heh. The wildlings are our potential allies. Stannis, however, is an unmistakable enemy. The only reason I didn't fly down and scorch him with dragonfire is out of respect for you Night's Watch—refusing to start a power struggle at the neutral Wall."
(End of Chapter)
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