During the rainy season in Stormlands, the most common sight is the drizzling rain.
Before Daeron set out on his dragon, he received urgent military intelligence that Randyll and Robert's rebel army had begun their battle.
"Randyll, just what is your true level?"
Daeron gazed into the distance, with Caraxes crouching beside him.
His own understanding of war boiled down to just two words.
Before the battle starts, it is 'calculation'—calculating the enemy's movements clearly so that one's own actions can follow.
Once the war begins, only one word remains.
Deception!!
Not letting the enemy know one's trajectory, concealing one's own strength, and setting traps for the foe—this is the way of military stratagem.
Before the Battle of Fawnton, none of the lords of the Seven Kingdoms knew his true strength.
Yet he knew all the movements and events concerning Robert and the other rebel forces.
This was a form of 'deception'.
The Battle of Summer Hall would be a major turning point.
Robert had changed his original route from the source material and developed a new strategic policy.
He had set a trap at Summerhall, waiting for Robert to arrive with his army.
In the original plan, he was to strike together with the allied forces of The Reach.
Now that Randyll had initiated the battle first, it would be a test of his individual military capabilities.
He hoped Randyll wouldn't be like his teacher Tywin, who could only bully noble lords who fought poorly, but would lose whenever he encountered a tough opponent.
Summerhall.
In the torrential rain, the two armies were already locked in a chaotic melee.
"Don't kill me, don't kill me!"
A young knight slumped on the ground, looking up in terror, begging for his life.
Robert's aura was terrifying as he raised his brand-new warhammer and smashed the young knight's head to a pulp.
The momentum of the hammer flattened the breastplate, and with a metallic clang, a Tarly Family badge featuring a 'Striding Hunter' fell out.
"Damn you, Randyll Tarly, I'm going to slaughter you!"
Robert's eyes were bloodshot as he searched the battlefield for the enemy commander.
On the battlefield, the rain turned the ground into a quagmire, and the soldiers fought in a muddy hollow at the foot of a high hill.
Many soldiers were locked in grapples with their enemies, rolling in the mud, fighting to the death.
But if one looked down from a high vantage point, the signs of the battle's progression could be seen.
Tens of thousands of Stormlands rebels were mired in the mud; whenever someone tried to charge out, cavalry carrying the Tarly Family banners would appear and take the rebel's life.
Most of the rebels were restricted by the terrain; before they could even engage in combat, they slipped in the mud and couldn't get back up.
They became sitting ducks for the cavalry to harvest at will.
"Randyll! Get out here!"
Robert led a group of elite soldiers to break through the encirclement, charging straight toward Randyll, who was commanding from the rear.
Randyll remained calm and composed, directing his cavalry to split into two paths and flank the hundred or so elites led by Robert, displaying the poise of a great general.
"Die!!"
Robert's muscles bulged all over, like a stag in heat, unstoppable amidst the chaotic army.
"Brute!"
Randyll's expression was cold as he spat out those two words.
But he did not shy away from the fight, drawing his ancestral sword 'heartsbane' and squeezing his horse's flanks to charge.
In the heavy rain, the weather was gloomy.
Robert was fully armored, wearing a yellow surcoat embroidered with a stag and a flamboyant antlered helmet, running sideways while gripping his warhammer tightly.
Randyll wore armor that appeared plain and unremarkable, sitting atop an armored warhorse, the valyrian steel sword 'heartsbane' in his hand flashing with a cold light as he swung it downward.
Clang—!
The sound of clashing metal erupted, forming a screech that could be heard five kilometers away from the battlefield.
The next day.
The heavy rain gradually lessened, and a layer of mist rose from the ground, the air thick with water vapor and the smell of blood.
—
Daeron arrived riding Caraxes and saw an indescribable quagmire of a meat grinder.
Nothing but corpses; the entire battlefield was covered in corpses.
Death and blood had become the main theme of the Battle of Summer Hall.
Caraxes landed on the ground, the claws of his broad-winged forelimbs splashing muddy water, wetting a portion of his scarlet dragon-wing membranes.
Daeron stepped off the dragon's back and quickly found Randyll supervising the soldiers as they cleared the battlefield.
At this moment, Randyll had removed his upper body armor and was wrapping bandages around his bleeding right arm; his other arm, the left, had already been bandaged.
His face was expressionless, not even a furrow in his brow, as if he knew no pain.
Daeron looked around and keenly noticed that most of the corpses were infantry from Stormlands rebels, while their own side consisted of cavalry and had not suffered major casualties.
"Prince, you have arrived."
Randyll finished bandaging his wound and stepped forward calmly.
Daeron didn't put on any false pretenses of benevolence and asked directly: "Where is Robert?"
"Fled!"
Randyll was very frank, pointing toward Ashford: "I pitted eight thousand cavalry against Robert's thirty-five thousand rebels. Using the terrain advantage formed by the rainy season, I waited for them like a tiger for its prey, fighting from the high ground. We killed twelve thousand and captured over three hundred."
"Robert led the remnants and fled toward Ashford."
"A grand victory of eight thousand against thirty-five thousand? And twelve thousand killed?"
Daeron's eyes widened as he looked at Randyll with newfound respect.
Was this man a god of war!?
Never mind that the eight thousand were cavalry; Robert's rebel army also had plenty of cavalry.
Randyll, despite a nearly five-to-one numerical disadvantage, had used the weather and terrain to shatter Robert's rebel army, killing twelve thousand enemies.
Looking across the military history of the continent of Westeros, there were few records of such a sensational achievement.
Most importantly, twelve thousand killed!!
When the noble lords of Westeros fought, they usually stopped once the point was made; there had never been a single instance of killing over ten thousand enemy soldiers.
Daeron took a deep breath and reconfirmed: "Where did Robert run to?"
"Ashford!"
Randyll was a man of few words, but every sentence was crucial: "Duke Mace's army from The Reach is over there. I gave instructions before I set out for them to split into two paths and block the path of Robert's rebels."
Daeron patted his shoulder, turned, and climbed back onto the dragon's back.
Poor Robert.
At his youngest and most impulsive age, he had encountered the most experienced and hardest Randyll.
Robert was no match for Randyll; unwilling to see his rebel army slaughtered, he led his troops in a hasty retreat.
At the speed of a defeated army, they naturally couldn't reach Ashford.
In fact, before they were even halfway to Harvest Hall, they ran head-on into the prepared allied forces of The Reach.
The Reach allied forces were divided into left and right wings.
The left wing was nominally led by Duke Mace, with Earl Mathis Rowan in actual command.
The right wing was led by "Blackfish" Brynden, assisted by the Kingsguard Jaime, leading the Red and Green Apple families, the Hightowers of Oldtown,
the Florent family of Brightwater Keep, and so on—
The moment they saw Robert's rebels, both the left and right wings became excited in unison, blowing the horns of attack and launching a charge—
C
"Duke Mace, protect yourself."
Earl Mathis gave a serious instruction and charged out at the head of the formation.
On the other side, Brynden's grasp of timing was consummate; as soon as he saw Mathis leading the frontal charge, he immediately led his troops in a flank attack.
The two armies were like two blades, forcefully cutting and dispersing Robert's rebels.
"Charge! Charge!"
The situation was excellent; even Duke Mace drew his ornate sword and charged forward with a roar.
In less than half an hour, Stormlands allied forces suffered heavy losses.
Robert fought his way in and out of the chaotic army seven times, but his soldiers were exhausted, and his few cavalry had been wiped out in the Battle of Summer Hall, making it impossible to stop the army's collapse.
"Robert, surrender now!"
Jaime rode over and engaged Robert in combat.
His father Tywin's command failure had led to Robert chasing him until he had to cut his cloak to escape, causing a great loss of face.
House Lannister and House Baratheon were now considered enemies.
Robert's martial prowess was off the charts; his warhammer was heavy and powerful, and he suppressed Jaime throughout their exchange, eventually knocking him off his horse.
Fortunately, Brynden appeared in time, leading several knights from the Red and Green Apple families and the Florent family to besiege Robert together.
A red light flashed in Robert's eyes, and a powerful force coursed through his body as he swung his long-handled warhammer with such vigor that no one could easily get close.
The terror of the warhammer's power was such that a direct hit meant death, and even a graze meant injury.
Stormlands rebels had not yet completely collapsed, solely supported by Robert's personal bravery.
"Skree—!"
Suddenly, a streak of fiery red cut through the dark sky; at the confluence of dark clouds and lightning, a massive snake-like body appeared, casting a shadow that broke through the clouds.
Daeron appeared riding Caraxes.
The Red Dragon's pair of giant wings spread out, blocking the drizzling rain; any that fell before him were turned into vapor by his hot dragon breath.
"Dragonfire!"
Daeron observed the battlefield, quickly found the weak points of Stormlands allied forces, and initiated aerial suppression.
Boom—
Caraxes dove down, and the crimson Dragonfire formed a pillar of fire that scattered the army below.
When the rain met the Dragonfire, it evaporated with a sizzle.
Soldiers touched by the Dragonfire rolled on the ground wailing, burned to death in the rain.
Robert was shocked, then roared in fury: "A dragon! Another dragon!"
Brynden and the others accelerated their attack, wanting to capture him alive.
He fought as he retreated, opening up distance.
Robert's strength was astonishing; reinforced by the power of the ruby, he far surpassed the several knights who had not yet condensed a Life Seed.
"Skree—!"
Caraxes circled in the sky, each burst of Dragonfire acting like a plow through the earth, becoming the brightest focus of the entire field.
The twenty thousand plus Stormlands allied forces used all their might—whether throwing spears or drawing bows—but none could harm the Red Dragon in the slightest, nor could they even touch the nimbly soaring beast.
Finally, they were routed.
Fawnton.
The Reach army regrouped and joined the Fawnton allied forces, setting up a large temporary camp.
Daeron landed his dragon and headed toward the central command tent.
"Prince, we had a great victory this time; the rebellion will be suppressed soon."
Davos came out to greet him, appearing incredibly excited.
In the first Battle of Summer Hall, Stormlands rebels lost twelve thousand men and were routed.
In the second Battle of Summer Hall, Stormlands rebels lost eight thousand men and were routed.
Two victory songs in one day; a total triumph.
Daeron kept a clear head; he didn't have the habit of opening champagne at halftime.
With two defeats in one day, Robert's rebel army had suffered heavy losses, leaving only about ten thousand men.
Under the pursuit of Caraxes, the remnants could not escape at all.
They would either surrender on the spot or retreat into the Red Mountains.
Robert himself led a small portion of cavalry, miserably crossing the Blueburn River and fleeing toward the Riverlands.
You might ask why he didn't run toward Stormlands to return to his own territory?
Randyll was at Summerhall, and Lord Caron's forced march was also on the route of the Kingsroad.
If Robert fled back, he would allow Daeron to complete the achievement of three victory songs in one day.
Inside the tent, a banquet was being held.
Duke Mace held a bottle of wine, pulling two vassals aside, loudly boasting about how brave he was in battle and how strategic his troop deployments were.
He truly lived up to the name "Lord Pufffish."
Daeron scanned the room.
Randyll sat in a corner of the tent; wounded, he was not drinking, but instead used a lemon dipped in salt to gently wipe his ancestral sword 'heartsbane'.
Observing that not a single noble lord around him was celebrating or congratulating him, and seeing his cold, sour face, Daeron guessed that something must have happened.
"Prince, you've returned?"
Duke Mace was overjoyed and quickly poured a cup of wine to offer to the prince who had returned on his dragon.
In front of all the vassals, he said: "Prince, thanks to your dragon's reinforcement, The Reach army was able to crush Robert's rebels under my leadership."