Lymon Lannister was completely stunned. He stared blankly at the young figure on horseback, the sunlight outlining him with a hazy edge, yet unable to dispel the chilling aura emanating from him.
The Old Madman felt as if he was seeing an ambitious, even more terrifying, and crazier young madman attempting to change the current pattern of Westeros.
The Leicester and House Deddings allied army began to move forward slowly. At the very front of the formation, Arthur turned his head and cast a final glance at Lymon Lannister.
A dangerously charming smile appeared on Arthur's face, a smile that held an invitation, a test, and an undeniable confidence.
Like a devil, he extended his final invitation:
"So, Lord Lymond, my cheap father, will you play this game with me?"
Lymon Lannister fell silent. The wind rustled his white hair and tattered robes. He thought of the humiliation from the Vance Family, the cold bodies of his sons, the pain of House Leicester withering in his hands, and his own lifetime of mediocrity.
Now, a young man, an even greater outsider than himself, had made an incredibly audacious declaration before him. In Lymon Lannister's murky eyes, something seemed to ignite; a long-extinguished flame roared back to life.
Lymon Lannister raised his head, meeting Arthur's gaze. 'I was already a madman, yet I couldn't be crazier than a normal person.' He revealed a resolute, utterly insane smile.
The old man's voice was hoarse, yet incredibly mad, with a crazy laugh: "Good! My son!"
"Then let us! Do it!"
Arthur watched the nearly 2,500-strong army marching rapidly across the plains, the rising dust obscuring the sky. He recalled how he had left Stinkfort with only two farmers, and how his grand ambitions from back then were now being realized.
At the very front of the army were two hundred elite soldiers dispatched by Norbert Vance. Although not numerous, they were from a great family and genuinely well-equipped and spirited, making them perfectly suited as cannon fodder for the vanguard.
The core of the army consisted of Arthur's direct forces: nine hundred soldiers with steady steps and strict formations, their eerie silence radiating a chilling excitement and madness. They surrounded five hundred soldiers from Daedings Family, totaling one thousand four hundred men.
On both flanks of the army were Arthur's sworn swords and the knights from House Leicester and Daedings Family, numbering over a hundred in total.
At the rear of the army were Lymon Lannister and his seven hundred soldiers. This hastily assembled, nascent version of the East Riverlands Alliance, totaling over two thousand three hundred men, was Arthur's entire reliance for his westward advance.
As for Lady Rona's four hundred soldiers, they were left in Daisding City to protect the anxious liege lord's wife and children.
As Arthur pondered, a sudden flurry of hooves echoed from the rear of the marching column. Amidst the swirling dust, a banner emblazoned with brown bull horns burst into everyone's view.
"It's the Morrison family!" shouted some accompanying sworn swords in the ranks.
Arthur looked back. Young Patrick Morrison had, surprisingly, kept his word, riding hard with over a hundred soldiers, covered in dust. White mist puffed from the horses' nostrils, as if they had finally caught up with the large army.
Patrick dismounted, almost jogging to the center of the army, his face beaming with the excitement of seeing an idol, and saluted loudly:
"Lord Arthur!"
However, Patrick Morrison's excitement was quickly replaced by a shadow. He lowered his head, his voice also sinking:
"Lord Arthur, my father and elder brothers… they are on the Seaguard front, and we've lost contact with them."
"My family's steward and the people in the territory all say… the prognosis is grim. I want to go to the front line immediately to find them, but my steward won't let me leave the city."
"He says if my father and brothers are lost, I will be the heir to the family."
He then looked up, forcing a smile uglier than a cry, with a hint of youthful stubbornness and self-deprecation.
"My mother died in childbirth when I was born. My family now, perhaps, only has me left as a man. When I learned you were advancing west, I immediately led my troops here."
Arthur reined in his warhorse. 'No, we can't be that similar, can we…?'
He looked at the young man before him, who was almost the same age as him, perhaps a little younger. The dust of a long journey still clung to his armor. He was truly an honest man.
He silently watched the young man before him, then finally extended a hand and firmly pressed Patrick's shoulder. The force made the young noble's body sink slightly, and his tone held a brotherly gentleness:
"Patrick Morrison, your loyalty and courage are admirable."
"But now, your steward is right; your family needs you more. Go back, just leave these soldiers."
Patrick shook his head abruptly, his gaze incredibly firm: "No! Lord Arthur!"
"Compared to staying in an empty castle! I'd rather go to the front line! I want to personally search for my father and brothers! Please let me follow you!"
Arthur gazed into his eyes, slightly moved. He knew that if all the male members of the Morrison family had indeed died on the front line, this stubborn young man would be the sole heir to that family, yet he was still willing to go to the front.
He sighed softly, recalling how he had once assigned the boy to the vanguard during the battle against the Ironborn, truly not caring much for his life, or rather, completely using him. Yet the young man before him seemed completely unaware, viewing it as an honor.
Finally, Arthur nodded: "Alright, then you will integrate your soldiers into my army, and you yourself will stay by my side. Since you are not a knight, you will serve as my guard."
Patrick's face instantly lit up. He nodded vigorously, as if this was the most honorable appointment he had ever received.
Lymon Lannister rode closer, watching Patrick excitedly run off to organize his troops, and couldn't help but feel a little emotional: "This young man is very good, brave, loyal, and regards you as an elder brother. He can be well cultivated."
Arthur was noncommittal, his gaze fixed forward. He had gained a cheap old father, and now a cheap younger brother. All that was missing was a cheap old mother.
Just then, several riders responsible for liaison galloped from all directions, raising a trail of dust. The leading sworn sword reined in his horse before them and reported loudly:
"Lord Arthur!"
"The people sent by the other vassals of Daedings Family, whom you previously summoned, have arrived."
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