Hearing Robb's scolding, Loras, who was also seated at the table, was about to help explain for his brother when Renly gave him a look, signaling him to stay silent.
The Kingsguard had sworn oaths of no land, no wives, and no children since its founding, but there was no vow to abandon helping one's family. Knights of the Kingsguard and their families have always benefited from their position. Moreover, the Tyrells, who are now known as the most noble family under the Baratheons, were no exception.
The Tyrell family had provided funds, supplies, and equipment, bringing 100,000 troops from the Reach to support the cause. Yet, Robb scolded them in front of so many nobles, and anyone in their position would be furious.
Willas, known as a medical miracle, stood up and, with his hands resting on the table, looked at Robb. "Commander, His Majesty has ordered the kingdom to go to war. According to the law, it is only right to conscript farmers. Furthermore, as far as I know, the northern farmers also participated in the Battle of the Moat Cailin."
Willas spoke slowly, neither humble nor arrogant. Their ranks were equal, both being heirs to their kingdoms, though Robb had inherited his title first. And it was the decision of Lord Mace to send so many troops, so even if Willas disagreed, he had to support his father and maintain the Tyrell family's dignity.
Over time, Robb had become accustomed to his role as Commander. He waved for Willas to sit and spoke in a stern tone, but without anger:
"Times have changed, Ser Willas. At Moat Cailin, we were forced to fight due to the pursuit of the Others. But now, we must lead our soldiers out of the city to fight proactively. Farmers would only be a burden, and worse, could become wights themselves."
Robb then explained his tactics to the gathered nobles. At this moment, Wright gave Renly a look, and Renly, understanding, spoke up as soon as Robb finished:
"Robb makes a valid point, but so does Willas. How about we discuss a compromise? There's no need to send them back, but what if we have them build fortifications instead?"
"If they're to provide rear support, that would be acceptable," Robb nodded in agreement.
"I disagree," Willas retorted. "A soldier is still a soldier. How can we have them do the work of artisans?" He argued vehemently. It would be a shame for the soldiers from the Reach to march so far only to be tasked with digging trenches and building walls. They would be mocked for it in the future.
"We are here to fight for humanity!"
The soldiers of the Reach also voiced their support.
Wright leaned back in his chair and spoke, "Willas, the Others are coming in force—hundreds, even thousands! If any are surrounded and about to be turned into wights, I will order Odahviing to conduct indiscriminate attacks to eliminate the threat!"
Renly and Wright worked in tandem, one playing the "bad cop", the other the "good cop". Soon, they pressured Willas into compromise. He agreed to have these men assemble and operate trebuchets, and lend out some armor and weapons.
The meeting ended, and everyone immediately began preparing their forces according to Robb's plan.
Lord Harroway's town was less than a hundred miles from Harrenhal. With the castle in ruins and impossible to defend, the open plains south of it led directly to King's Landing. After much discussion, it was decided that the decisive battle would take place between the two locations.
The armies of the Riverlands and the Westerlands had already arrived on the western side of Harrenhal, and Wright's and Stannis's naval forces had landed. The Dornish troops had also reached Maidenpool and were ready to launch a siege from both the east and west.
This was the first time the armies of all Seven Kingdoms had united on the same battlefield.
---
The Royal Fleet and the Tyrell Navy, along with the Dornish troops, had left Maidenpool three days ago. The port remained as busy as ever, with many empty ships needing to be moved to make room for supply vessels.
The once-plump Missandei, now grown into a graceful young woman, was inspecting the port with several Tyrell naval logistics officers. She was constantly writing down the names of the ships docking in her little notebook.
"Have them unload the supplies and leave immediately; there are still many ships waiting to dock."
"Understood, Missandei." Wendel Manderly, now slim and muscular, followed closely behind her.
The narrow pier was filled with workers and carts. Missandei and Wendel walked quickly toward the docks, and she handed him the notebook. "This is our last ship. Once you sign, you can head to the battlefield."
"Finally done!" Wendel checked the numbers and quickly signed his name, stamping it with his seal.
Wendel was the Chief Logistics Officer for the Tyrosh Navy's northern fleet. While his colleagues were all off to fight, his logistics department remained at Maidenpool. "I really hate that Tyrosh has so many ships now!"
Missandei, only a temporary wartime communications officer tasked with gathering and organizing intelligence for Wright, smiled at him as she took the notebook back. "Every time your fleet sets out, don't you always have the supply ships follow closely behind to bolster numbers?"
"Haha, that's called deceptive tactics!" Wendel scratched the back of his head awkwardly, turning his head towards the harbor. Suddenly, he pointed at the dock and exclaimed, "Who are those people?"
Missandei leaned on the railing and looked over. She counted a total of sixteen people. They had just disembarked and were walking together from the dock into the town. Due to their strange attire, the workers on the dock stopped their tasks and moved aside to give them space.
The leader was wearing a golden winter noble's robe, had short black curly hair, and wore something black over his nose and eyes. What stood out most was that his posture seemed off, as if his body were always tilted, and his steps were arrogantly confident.
Wendel immediately recognized him. "Is that Oberyn?"
"That's him!" Missandei affirmed.
Having served as a secretary to Wright for many years, Missandei often saw Oberyn and recognized him at a glance. However, she couldn't understand why the former Prince of Dorne, who had abdicated, was here. He had not been assigned any military position.
The people following Oberyn were even stranger. Walking beside him was an elderly man with white hair, leaning on a cane made from several thigh bones. His simple white robe reflected a metallic gleam when he moved.
Behind them were fourteen young people, both male and female, all wearing armor made from assembled bones, with weapons on their backs whose hilts were also crafted from white bones.
These people shared many common traits: they were all slender, some with youthful faces that seemed under sixteen, yet they all had white hair and pale skin.
"That's Grand Mage Qyburn next to Oberyn! The ones behind them are likely Qyburn's disciples," Missandei said.
Missandei had met Qyburn once ten years ago, but after that, she had only seen him mentioned in letters exchanged by Wright.
"Grand Mage Qyburn?" Wendel asked.
Upon hearing Qyburn's name, soldiers gathered around, staring at the group walking into town. They were summoning skeletal horses and heading towards the battlefield.
Wendel commented, "I haven't seen Qyburn in ten years. I thought he had passed away."
Missandei knew more: "He's been teaching disciples all this time!"
In the eyes of ordinary people, Qyburn had seemed to vanish. Only Wright and a few of Qyburn's close friends knew where he had been. Qyburn's research on necromancy, which he called "death magic", had become increasingly powerful as his studies advanced. But it was too bloody and involved desecrating corpses, so people avoided it. Even though Qyburn was powerful, nobles didn't want to deal with corpses, so he had taken his disciples to Dragonstone ten years ago after the Battle of the Twins.
Dragonstone was a jagged, volcanic island with a small habitable area. The Targaryens had kept dragons there for hundreds of years, and the island accumulated a large number of bones, the perfect place for Qyburn to research his "death magic".
Stannis was pleased to have a magic school in his territory, even though it wasn't official. He had made plenty of money from gambling and had no place to spend it, so he generously allowed Qyburn and his disciples to stay in his castle, providing them with food, clothing, and research funds.
---
The armies of humans and wights formed massive formations on the northern plains of Harrenhal. The wight army was so large they were worried about flanking. The humans had heavy weapons like trebuchets, and to avoid disrupting their formations, both sides advanced slowly.
The first encounter was between the reconnaissance forces, the Vale cavalry, and vampire riders on skeletal horses.
The Vale scouts, accompanied by a few mages, suffered a defeat, with fewer than half of them managing to escape. However, the shape-shifter mages used their hawks to acquire accurate information on the wight army's formation.
Soon, the vanguard of both armies appeared in each other's sight, and the first battle broke out.
Both sides were testing each other's strength. A thousand Northmen, led by Greatjon, made repeated charges and swiftly changed direction after each charge, circling around the wights to attack their flanks with obsidian-tipped arrows and magic.
After enjoying some success, the wights stopped blindly pursuing and began spreading their formation. Ice spiders, ridden by wights, appeared in the front lines.
"Retreat!" Greatjon issued the retreat order according to Robb's plan. The purpose of this vanguard operation had been fulfilled—they had confirmed that the wight main army was heading towards Harrenhal.
Boom! Boom!
The northern plains of Harrenhal only had a thin layer of snow. The sound of metal boots marching in perfect formation echoed as the human army slowly advanced.
Thirty thousand men from the Riverlands, five thousand from the Stormlands, three thousand from the Crownlands, and men from the North formed one hundred heavy infantry formations. In the center of each formation were large numbers of wildfire pots and carts carrying mages.
To the left of the infantry was a thousand heavy cavalry led by Willas, and to the right, eight thousand heavy cavalry from the Crownlands, Stormlands, and the North, commanded by Robb.
In the rear, countless craftsmen and oxen pulled heavy crossbows, trebuchets, and other siege equipment, ready to assemble and prepare for battle.
Robb saw a group of cavalry returning in the distance. The riders, carrying several messengers, rode up to the infantry formation, and Grey Wind, who was running behind, was fitted with custom-made armor.
"How are the enemy forces?" Robb asked.
Greatjon replied, "There are too many wights to count, a massive swarm. Can we really win with such few men?"
"Sending farmers into battle would only increase the number of wights. Having them operate the heavy machines in the rear is the best compromise we could manage," Robb said, pulling on the reins and raising his arm high.
The infantry immediately stopped advancing at his signal. A unified roar echoed as hundreds of rectangular shields fell into place.
"Grey Wind," Robb called, jumping off his horse and pulling out a prepared scroll from his belt, sliding it into the wolf's armor. "Take this to the craftsmen's camp."
Greatjon remained uneasy. "Can we really hold this position in such an open plain? At least if we were in Harrenhal, we'd have a wall to defend!"
Robb showed a slight hint of worry on his face, but replied confidently, "Trust me, to defeat the wights, we cannot stay behind walls."
Grey Wind was faster than a horse, able to run for hours without stopping. It wasn't long before the direwolf had run back and forth across the field.
Thousands of craftsmen rolled carts into position, quickly digging trenches and burying wildfire pots before retreating.
At the limit of vision, a black line appeared on the horizon— it was the wight army.
"They're coming! Sound the drums!"
Robb shouted as he rode back to the cavalry formation, with several messengers scattering to deliver the orders.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The drums behind the infantry rang out, their low, deep beats echoing in the soldiers' ears.
"Spread the formation, raise your shields!"
The roar of tens of thousands of men echoed as the hundred infantry formations broke apart, rearranging into smaller units. Shields were raised in layers, and the mages in the formations readied themselves for the first barrage of fireballs.
With a tremendous sound, trebuchets released massive stones, their arms swinging as they launched green fireballs into the advancing wight horde.
Explosions erupted, green flames scorching the sky.
The ice spiders had similar range to the trebuchets, but the prepared human alliance launched another volley of fireballs before the ice spiders could fully set up.
But this charge was different from the one at the Carling Bay stronghold. The wights charging towards Carling Bay were all various human and animal corpses, but this time, the wights were determined to break the human lines. Along with the wights came large numbers of ice spiders ridden by the Others.
They used their ice shields to block the falling wildfire, and the nearby wights were burned to death without concern, as long as the Others remained alive and could breach the human lines to cause chaos.
The trebuchets' fireballs destroyed wave after wave of wights, and the flames on the ground created a wall of fire that scorched the wights, who screamed in agony. But the Others kept charging forward.
Blood trails appeared from the rear of the wight army. The wights flanked and maneuvered, quickly catching up to the advancing Others.
"It's the vampires! Vampires are here too! Mages, prepare!"
The humans weren't unprepared for this, as a large number of mages had been assigned specifically to deal with the Others and vampires.
Robb drew his two Valyrian steel swords from his back, while Jon in the infantry formation raised his blood-red sword, Red Rain, ready to charge.
A dragon's roar sounded as Peytvahaaz descended from the clouds, with Renly standing on the dragon's back in his ancestral Baratheon armor, green with deer antlers on the helm, and wielding the pale blue sword Storm. He roared as he charged from the side into the wight horde.
Neither the Others nor the dragons showed fear. The humans, too, were unafraid. Both sides had resolved to settle this battle once and for all.