The Lannister army's camp lay between the river and the Kingsroad, stretching on for several miles.
Night had already fallen, dyeing every banner black. The Imp—Tyrion Lannister—only 1.3 meters tall, was sore all over after a full day of marching. At last, he was freed from his father, Duke Tywin Lannister's relentless lecturing.
Tonight, he had planned to drink himself senseless, but his attention was now drawn to the woman before him.
"Is it her?" he asked his guard, Bronn.
Bronn nodded. He had taken this woman from a knight.
The woman rose gracefully and looked down at Tyrion from her height of over five feet. "Yes, my lord. And she can even speak for herself—if that pleases you."
The Imp found this very amusing. Smiling, he introduced himself."I am Tyrion of House Lannister. Others call me the Imp."
"My name is Shae. The guests usually… call me that as well."
Bronn burst into laughter, and Tyrion couldn't help but curl his lips upward."Then please, enter the tent, Shae."
Tyrion lifted the curtain for her. Once inside, he lit a candle.
Holding the candle up, he examined her carefully. Bronn had good taste.
Shae was around eighteen years old, with deep, doe-like eyes and black hair. Slender, compact, small yet firm—petite and beautiful. Her face always carried a smile that shifted between shyness, arrogance, and mischief.
Tyrion was very satisfied.
"My lord, would you like me to undress?" the woman asked.
"Wait a moment. Shae, are you truly a prostitute?"
"My lord, if that makes you happy, you may think of me that way," she said with feigned solemnity.
"Little sister, I'll only be happy if I know the truth."
"Oh? Then you'll have to pay double."
Tyrion felt they were a perfect match."I am a Lannister. I have gold in abundance. You'll find I'm a very generous man…"
Woooo—
Outside the fishing village port city, the pirates—and the White Harbor knights hiding on the hills, eager to watch a siege—suddenly heard a deafening horn blast.
It was the standard signal for an attack.
Yet for a moment, they couldn't understand why the sound was coming from inside the fortress that had been completely surrounded.
Could it be that the minor lord inside, seeing their siege engines about to be assembled, had decided to ride out and seek death?
That was what the pirates thought.
But Hood, the captain of the guards standing atop the city wall, did not think so.
Watching groups of soldiers continuously emerge from the lord's manor, he knew that the reinforcements Lord Linn had mentioned truly existed—and they were certainly not the White Harbor knights on the hills.
Infantry Commander Rodat and Archer Commander Hurricane led the Explosive Troop, assembling in formation behind the city gate.
"Hood, hold the walls. Don't let White Harbor or the pirates take advantage of the chaos to rush in. Anyone who approaches—kill them on the spot!"
Linn didn't bother looking at the stunned guard captain, speaking calmly.
Hood nodded stiffly, his expression blank.
Then, at Linn's signal, the attack horn sounded from within Fishing Village Port Fortress.
Outside the gates lay a stretch of sandy beach leading straight to the harbor docks. On both sides of the river-mouth beach, the hills narrowed inward. The pirates who had landed at the port were completely unaware of the danger, all clustered together in the low-lying center of the sand.
Linn planned to send one hundred infantry clad in padded armor and sixty-one archers in a frontal assault, while the remaining one hundred thirty-nine men split into two groups to flank from both sides.
As long as they could quickly seize the slopes on both sides, attacking from higher ground and allowing the archers' range to fully cover the pirates in the center, forming a pincer—
This battle would be as good as won.
The war horn was deep and heavy, filled with a mournful tone, joining this bloody chorus.
The gates of Fishing Village Port Fortress swung wide open.
The frontal assault force charged out, shouting loudly.
The archers ran while nocking their bows, loosing volleys of arrows in unison. They didn't seek precision—only suppression, pinning down the pirates before they could react.
Linn stood atop the watchtower between Old Maester Hill and Guard Captain Hood, surveying the battlefield. The infantry charged swiftly. As they closed in on the pirates who were scrambling to return fire, they raised their long axes and sabers. Under the coastal sunlight, the blades flashed with brutally sharp light.
"Long live the Explosive Troop!"
As another rain of arrows fell, Linn heard the padded-armored soldiers shouting at the top of their lungs.
His face darkened instantly. He swore that next time, he would absolutely change the slogan.
Something like "Demacia" would be much better.
Guard Captain Hood gripped the wooden railing of the battlements with both hands, staring outside, completely frozen.
When Lord Linn's reinforcements collided with the first wave of pirates—when he saw them cutting through the unprepared pirates like slicing melons and vegetables—
Hood knew the victory of this battle already belonged to Fishing Village Port Fortress.
But when he raised his gaze toward the slopes on both sides of the river valley—
And saw half-naked archer soldiers, wearing nothing but trousers, lined up across the hills like a long horizontal formation, calmly drawing their bowstrings again and again as if practicing on ducks, sending arrow after arrow steadily into the pirate crowd—
He realized this would be a crushing.
Even Hood, long accustomed to bloodshed, felt his heart pounding wildly. The fierce-looking guard captain quietly turned his head and glanced at Lord Linn beside him, whose small face was tightly set, then lowered his head even further.
This was a one-sided massacre.
Linn, witnessing the might of the Explosive Troop firsthand, stood completely still and blinked.
On the sandy beach of the river valley, warriors slaughtered madly. Strong soldiers and pirates alike raised their weapons—either killing or being killed.
Echoes rippled outward.
The crack of snapping spears, the clash of blades, and the strange cries of "Long live the Explosive Troop" carried far into the distance.
When Linn realized that keeping his eyes open was pointless, he closed them, focusing on listening.
He heard frantic footsteps, iron boots splashing through shallow water, the dull thud of swords striking oak shields. The pirates seemed to be forced into leaping continuously into the freezing seawater.
It was useless.
As long as anyone was still alive, the Explosive Troop's infantry and arrows surged forward in waves.
The sounds gradually weakened, until they finally faded away—leaving only desolate wails.
The sun dipped westward, the blood-red sunset slowly sinking below the sea's horizon.
Linn took a deep breath. This was only level-1 Explosive Troops. Even though the enemy weren't regular soldiers but merely disorganized pirates, the gap was still far too outrageous.
Opening his eyes in disbelief, Linn looked at Old Maester Hill, whose face was pale with shock, and suddenly remembered something.
"Maester Hill, don't you think there must be a lot of gold dragons in the pirates' lair?"
He glanced at the system panel.
[Current Upgrade EXP: 30.1 / 100]
Leveling up would still take a long time.
However, the old maester seemed not to hear him at all. His face flushed red with excitement as he said,"My lord, I swear—every ten pirates that die, only one of our soldiers falls!"
Linn was speechless. So you were counting heads the whole time?
He was well aware that this was largely because the pirates lacked ranged archers. In truth, level-1 infantry weren't much stronger than the pirates themselves—just look at the large number of wounded in the Explosive Troop.
(End of Chapter)