Eddard's death served as a wake-up call for Wright. He stepped aside and began asking everyone if they had been struck by the White Walker's spear. As expected, he found a few more cases, and Wright quickly used magic to extract the lingering White Walker's magic from their bodies.
"Jon, House Stark knights are under your command for now," Robb called out loudly. He spoke to Jon, but also to the surrounding knights.
"Jon, avenge Lord Eddard!" the Stark knights yelled, raising their swords in anger.
Wright had asked Robb to escort the body to safety in order to protect him, not allowing the direct line of House Stark to suffer further losses here. Jon, though Eddard's son, had no formal rights as a bastard. But Jon had earned the title of Lord Commander through his own efforts, and now, no one questioned his qualifications to lead the army.
Jon didn't want to lead, but seeing the fury of the knights, many of whom he had known since childhood, all shouting for Eddard's revenge, he reluctantly nodded his agreement.
Robb looked at Jon's steel sword, then drew his own blade, "Here, take Frost," he said, handing Jon the sword. "When you find the White Walker, drive the sword through its heart!"
Jon sheathed his own sword and took Frost with both hands, "I promise it will pierce the White Walker's heart!"
The war continued, and Robb left with just a handful of young knights. They requisitioned a merchant cart from the common folk, and Eddard's body was placed in the cart to be transported back to Moat Cailin.
After watching the cart merge into the civilian caravan, Jon raised his sword and shouted, "Northern warriors! Follow me to kill the enemy!"
Jon dashed north alone, with the Stark knights mounting their horses to follow him.
Eddard's participation in Robert's Rebellion had earned the North great honor on the battlefield. His kind-hearted nature had kept him from provoking enemies during times of peace.
Because of Robb's network, the North had begun trading with the Stormlands and Tyrosh, benefiting the nobles, and bringing more advanced agricultural techniques from Oldtown, ensuring that even the common folk of the North were well-fed and warm. Even the ambitious Lord Roose Bolton had to admit that Eddard was a competent Lord.
The banners of the Direwolfs flew on lances, and knights rode out toward the most intense fighting in the north.
Knights carrying the banners of the black lizard, and the skined Man all joined the charge. Along the way, more warriors from the northern mountain clans — the Flints, the Wulls, and the Norreys — joined in. Anyone who was still able to ride and fight headed toward the front lines.
Eddard's death had not dampened their spirits. Instead, it stirred up the Northern anger and resolve.
"Avengers for Eddard!"
"Avengers for Eddard!"
Standing atop the cart, Robb clenched his fists, vowing in his heart that he would lead the North to reclaim its rightful land.
---
"Three, four, the Frost Knights are dying too quickly, too fast. Damn it! Gard is gone from my magical senses!" Leech, holding onto an White Walker's shoulder, shouted.
"We underestimated Wright! It seems he hasn't been enjoying life these past years; his fighting strength is still formidable."
In Jeoff Flowers mind, noble sons who gained fame at a young age often became self-indulgent by the time they reached their thirties, especially within House Baratheon, which had produced many such examples. The fat king before his death had been a prime example of this.
"Get the last of the wights, and focus our forces to attack those two Baratheon boys. Once we kill them, I'll return to lead hundreds of Blood Knights, and you all will become my squad leaders!"
Jeoff promised the vampires beside him, with "squad leader" being his current rank. As part of a reconnaissance team, they had been tracking the Northmen southward. Now, with the chance to attack Moat Cailin, Jeoff, eager to return with achievements, initiated the strike. Otherwise, he would remain just a squad leader forever.
Each human transformed into a vampire had varying magical talents. Leech had made little progress in offensive blood magic but excelled in mind-linking magic, which Jeoff had noticed and recruited him into his team.
Leech had transformed from a grotesque, bloated monster to a handsome man and now sought to climb higher. Killing those two half-grown Baratheon boys would secure his promotion, and a harem of beautiful women awaited him.
The bodies of the White Walkers were similar to cold-blooded crocodiles; they could only unleash short bursts of power before slowing down again. Therefore, under the Night King's command, the Blood Knights took over the battle tactics while the White Walkers simply followed the orders to control the wights in combat.
"Wait!" Jeoff pulled Leech aside and whispered, "Let these fifteen White Walkers join in!"
"Understood!" Leech whispered a few words to the White Walkers, who then let out a collective roar.
In the forest, there was a commotion. Corpses of large animals, including bears, giant stags, shadowcats, wild oxen, Ice Wolves, and even several ten-meter-long crocodiles, crawled out of the snow.
The White Walkers mounted on ice spiders, preparing to charge towards the target alongside the wights.
---
Ahead, the battlefield echoed with the sounds of war cries, while the majority of the civilian groups had already entered the city. Only a few, herding livestock and falling behind, were still running about.
Ten knights bearing the white moon and blue eagle banners separated from the main force and arrived before the silver trout banner of the Riverlands army.
Lord Denys Arryn dismounted, took off his silver helmet and held it in his hands, walking up to Edmure Tully. "Edmure, have you heard? Eddard has died!"
"I know, this is war! Eddard died a glorious death!" Edmure sighed as he spoke.
The northern knights roared in anger, the infantry joined in, their cries echoing across the battlefield. Edmure, who had married Eddard's sister, was not unaware of Eddard's death.
"We have so many men, yet we're advancing so slowly? Watching the Northmen fight to the death?" Denys shouted, pointing ahead.
The Riverlands soldiers advanced slowly, clearing the isolated wights from their path. Edmure, too, did not remain still but moved forward, surrounded by knights guarding him.
"Unarmed civilians and livestock will become our enemies once they die! Our primary task is to protect them and get them into the city, otherwise, more and more wights will keep appearing!" Edmure shouted back, pointing towards the Moat Cailin in the distance. "See that? They've entered the city with almost no casualties, and they did it smoothly! My plan is right!"
Denys, realizing Edmure had a point, softened his tone. "So the civilians are inside the city now. Will you still not send soldiers to support the Northmen?"
"I can't let the formation fall apart. Trust me, this is the best way to deal with the wights. Blindly attacking will only repeat Eddard's mistake," Edmure replied earnestly.
Denys sighed, turned his horse, and rode back with his knights. He finally understood that Edmure was all talk; he shouldn't have listened to him this time and would never do so again.
In the Battle of the Twins, Edmure had been the overall commander. Denys suspected he had hidden in the castle's cellars to survive and had only earned credit for staying behind, not fleeing the city, a feat exaggerated by the Riverlanders.
Once Denys rejoined his troops, the Valley cavalry, now behind the Riverlands infantry, accelerated their pace.
Looking at the eight thousand Valley cavalry separating from the infantry's protection and heading north, Edmure sighed. "Good advice is hard to take! The people of the Vale, who have been hiding in the mountains, are going to suffer greatly in this war!"
---
Smalljon ran around looking for mages to help, and his efforts soon paid off. The mages, having finished their own battles, gathered at the northern front, where the number of wights rapidly decreased.
A group of wights was surrounded by creeping vines that grew from the ground. Four or five shape-shifting mages simultaneously controlled them from various directions. The wriggling vines continued to constrict, wrapping the wights into a ten-meter diameter ball.
The wights slashed at the vines in a frenzy, trying to break free. But with each piece they cut off, new vines grew in its place. The vines quickly coiled around the wights' bodies, trapping them as they clawed and snapped.
Without needing command, nearby mages began firing various spells at the vine ball. It wasn't enough, though. Once the magic shattered the outer layer of wights, the knights threw fire pots. The green flames crackled as they consumed the vines and wights, and in no time, only a pile of white ash remained.
Following this successful tactic, other mages followed suit, and the shape-shifters no longer relied on axes and swords. Vines began to spring up all over the northern battlefield, and with the knights' wildfire, the wights that attempted to breach the lines were quickly eliminated.
Lyonel and Sauron, the two most highly educated full-spectra mages, played a pivotal role. They used large-scale magic with minimal energy consumption to help turn the tide at crucial moments. By this point, both had exhausted their magical reserves and could no longer summon their skeletal horses. Sweating heavily, they ran about, offering support where needed.
"Attack! The prince is fighting alongside us! Victory is within our grasp!" Greatjon panted, swinging his great sword at a wight.
"Roar!"
Now, only the wights outside the military formation remained. With no interference from the rear and the prince aiding the fight, the northern warriors were able to focus their efforts in one unified direction.
The younger generation of northern nobility and knights did not recognize the prince or Sauron, but the older generation did. Many of the mages had received their insignia from the prince himself in King's Landing. When they saw the two men, recognition was instant.
Victory was close. A group of knights and exhausted mages protected Lyonel and Sauron.
Boom!
A thunderous sound approached from the north. The rhythmic pounding of footsteps, unlike those of horses or wights, echoed through the ground, each step heavy and spaced apart.
A corpse demon, with only its head and neck remaining, clamped onto the armor on Jon's arm. Jon didn't pay it any mind. Standing tall, he turned his head to look northward. Over the heads of the soldiers, he saw a group of enormous and terrifying animal corpses charging toward them.
The number of these animal corpses was fewer than before, but they were all large, powerful, or agile beasts! Bears, wild bulls, wild boars, and stags led the way, clearing the path, while shadow mountain cats and direwolves followed in the rear, ready to strike and deliver a deadly blow at the right moment.
"Quick, scatter! Scatter!" the knights shouted, preparing to spread out with their soldiers.
The exhausted soldiers couldn't withstand such a charge, especially when facing beasts the size of warhorses.
But the remaining humanoid corpse demons seemed to have received orders as well, going mad and charging forward. They used their teeth to tear at soldiers when weapons were out of reach, and those without heads would cling to soldiers, using their bodies to latch onto them. Large, powerful Jon and Smalljon had no fewer than ten corpse demon remnants crawling up their bodies, each one holding on to anything it could, even if it was just a hand, it would grab a soldier's pants and drag them down.
The crowd gradually dispersed, and the charging beasts adjusted their direction slightly.
"They're coming for us! Protect the prince!" Jon tore off a bone from his body, urgently shouting to everyone, "Shieldbearers! Pikes! Pikes!"
Sauron, out of breath, raised the shield handed to him by a soldier and called out, "I have no magic left! I can't even summon the dragon!"
In the heat of battle, fueled by anger, he had exhausted his magic. Now, he was relying on Lyonel to call the blue dragon, hoping his own dragon, being smarter, might follow.
"My potions are gone too!" Lyonel drew his golden sword, Dawnbreaker. The one-handed blade in his grasp now felt like a giant sword that could only be wielded with both hands. He raised the blade high and let out a roar, "Victory will belong to humanity! Oka~~Az~~tuz~~!"
The golden light emanating from the hilt and the dragon's roar, though not as effective as their previous magic, gave the Northmen nearby a glimmer of courage.
"Swear to protect the prince!"
The soldiers raised their shields in defense, while the knights gripped their pikes. They stood shoulder to shoulder, forming the tightest defense, ready to protect the prince they had fought alongside before, with their lives if necessary.
The blue dragon, Okaaztuz, heard the call from the clouds and began to dive toward the ground in the direction of Renly. The black dragon, Shulvokun, who had been circling nearby, followed its lead.
The dragon's roar carried across the vast open area, and both Renly and Wright heard it.
Renly, who was casting spells at low altitude, instructed Peytvahaaz to ascend. Through the snowstorm, he spotted a golden light—that was the glow from Lyonel's sword.
"Charge forward!"
Peytvahaaz flapped his wings hard, charging toward the prince's position.
"You're fine now!" Wright stopped the healing magic and pushed the Northern noble away. Without a word, he summoned his skeleton horse and raced toward the north.
The charging beast horde was drawing near. As reinforcements were arriving from several directions, the Northmen were also gathering around the prince, forming defensive lines to brace for the impact.
In this battlefield, neither too large nor too small, the first to arrive as reinforcements was a group of cavalry.
A few Direwolf banners appeared atop a small hill to the side of the beast herd. Shortly after, more banners followed, and the sound of hooves echoed.
"It's the Northern cavalry!"
After crossing the hill, the warhorses began to charge downhill in the cold wind, releasing long streams of white breath from their nostrils. The knights' armor, saddles, and weapons clattered as they rode. What was a single knight became the thunderous sound of hundreds of knights gathered together.
The galloping horses increased their speed, forming a triangular charge formation. At the front of the charge was Jon, who was on foot, but his purple shadow behind him moved faster than the horses.
Jon saw the golden light from the direction of the beast horde and immediately recognized Lyonel's sword—the prince, Lyonel, and that child beside him was certainly Sauron!
"Ah~~ha!" With Jon's furious roar, his purple shadow turned red. This was the blood magic he had learned from his wife.
The Northern knights raised their pikes, slightly bending forward to catch their breath, and their warhorses gave their all for the fastest charge. But Jon was faster!
What had been a purple figure running ahead of the cavalry, turned red, and instantly accelerated. Behind him, dozens of red shadows in the shape of knights with long swords appeared as Jon charged directly into the beast horde.