The weather had turned cold, and the water of the Blackwater Rush had become bone-chilling. It earned its name because the extremely deep riverbed made the water appear black.
Looking down from the sky, its color was as jarring as veins on pale skin. Jon warged into a raven, circling above the Blackwater Rush.
At this moment, Stannis's fleet had already pushed past the mouth of the Blackwater Rush. It was clear that the plan of Stannis's army was to first occupy the river channel with their fleet, and then have the Soldiers on the warships swarm forward to force a Breakthrough at the River Gate.
However, compared to the massive fleet, the Blackwater Rush appeared somewhat narrow. They could only enter the river in single file, with each file consisting of about a dozen or twenty warships.
The oars of these warships were like the legs of a centipede, struggling to propel their bulky bodies forward.
The current at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush was swift, and their commander had ordered the sails to be furled, so they could only rely on manpower for propulsion.
Two hundred warships spread out completely, stretching as far as the eye could see.
Yet, the "Royal Fleet" currently on the Blackwater Rush consisted of only a dozen or so pathetic ships, barely larger than fishing boats; the two were completely incomparable.
And yet, such a massive fleet would actually be blocked by an iron chain and incinerated by wildfire.
Jon, controlling the raven for reconnaissance, looked toward the winch towers at the river mouth. He knew that once most of Stannis's fleet had entered the channel, the river-blocking chain would be raised, cutting off their retreat.
And what they used to raise the river-blocking chain were the 'winch towers' that had been built on both banks of the river mouth not long ago.
The black winch towers looked to be about two or three stories high, with a base the size of a house. On the upper part was a huge wooden wheel, around which was coiled a pitch-black iron chain as thick as a man's leg.
Jon maneuvered the raven to land on the winch tower when no one was paying attention. Sure enough, he saw a group of Lannister Soldiers hiding in the grass; this position was perfect for hearing their whispers.
"... Fifteen ships, twenty-five ships... eighty-three ships..."
"The Devotion, the Swordfish, the Laughing King. The Lady Harlaw, the Sea Demon, the Trident... the Jester, the Sea Fish, the Pious, the Prayer, the Royal Authority, the Red Raven, the Brave, the Dragonbane, the Black Bess... the Cat, the Sea Spirit, the Valyrian, the fury!"
The Soldiers hiding in the grass were whispering. Those who could count kept counting, as if calculating their own countdown to death.
Those who were not only good at counting but also knowledgeable recited the names of these imposing warships one by one, as if pronouncing their own sentences.
At this moment, Jon heard an impatient voice: "Enough! Stop your damn mumbling. You think it's impressive that you recognize so many ships? You think you're special?"
The person delivering the reprimand was Bronn. He plucked a weed in front of him as if it were an eyesore, but when he looked at the fleet, even breathing became difficult.
The question that had lingered in his mind for a long time emerged once again: Can wildfire really stop this fleet?
Bronn had seen those jars of wildfire with his own eyes. But a single jar was only a foot high, and a hundred jars could be carried by a small merchant ship; compared to the fleet before him, they were just tiny trinkets.
To take down such a massive beast with such a tiny trinket—he didn't have much faith in it at all.
But now, this mercenary had 'all-in' his entire fortune on Tyrion and the Lannisters. Whether he would continue to 'go out to work' and live by the sword from now on, or enjoy the high life and have fun in the brothel, all depended on today.
He turned to the Soldiers behind him and said: "Once all of Stannis's ships have entered the river, you pull with all your might! Use twice the strength you'd use in a woman's bed! Do you hear me?!"
"Y-yes, sir!" "Yes, my lord." "Understood." The Soldiers' responses were somewhat listless.
Many of them were mercenaries Tyrion had temporarily recruited from King's Landing, and they had only decided to risk their lives because they were promised heavy rewards.
As a fellow mercenary, Bronn understood that once the battle turned unfavorable, it was best not to have any expectations of these people. He looked toward the River Gate; that was the key.
In the end, no matter how hard they worked here, they still had to help Tyrion hold the gate. Even if their position was overrun by Stannis's army once they realized what was happening, as long as the gate didn't fall, his wealth and status would still be secure.
Just as Bronn was worrying about whether the gate's defenses were solid, Jon also had the raven fly toward the River Gate where Tyrion was located.
The River Gate, as the name implied, was the gate facing the Blackwater Rush. Since Stannis's fleet was coming from the Blackwater Rush, this would be where the fighting was most intense.
Jon saw that Tyrion was currently on the ramparts boosting morale, with two fully armed knights following him to ensure his safety. One of them was even wearing a white cloak; it must be a member of the Kingsguard.
Because of his short stature, Tyrion specifically stood on a platform built from wooden crates, but the Soldiers listening to his encouragement had a comical feeling, as if they were watching a dwarf's performance.
Because of his physique, even when Tyrion wore a suit of fine armor, it made people feel like it was nothing more than a paper prop.
"The fifty thousand troops from the Westerlands and the one hundred thousand from the Tyrells will be here soon. All we need to do is hold! As long as we hold King's Landing, I will add ten more Gold Dragons to each of you! For every Stannis soldier killed, I will reward him with one hundred Gold Dragons!"
Tyrion announced loudly, even speaking somewhat recklessly. Even though his rewards were very tempting, the Soldiers still reacted flatly. There was no helping it; the disparity in strength was simply too great.
The fleet on the Blackwater Rush that stretched as far as the eye could see made everyone feel anxious and uneasy; even looking at it for a few moments made it hard to breathe.
Because the light on the ramparts was relatively bright, and the weather had turned cold, Jon seemed to be able to see the steam rising from Tyrion's breath as he spoke.
At this moment, a soldier asked: "My lord, I heard that Ser Clegane was killed by Lord Eddard's bastard. Is that true?"
Tyrion's face sank, thinking, 'Where the hell did this guy come from to stir up trouble for me?'
However, he still kept his expression normal and said: "This soldier, I don't know what you are talking about. Isn't Ser Clegane right over there?"
Tyrion drew his short sword and pointed toward the place where Sandor Clegane, the younger brother of the Mountain, known as "The Hound," was stationed.
"My lord, I'm talking about Ser Gregor, the Mountain!" The soldier wouldn't let it go. Tyrion gripped the hilt of his sword and flatly denied it: "Nonsense! Eddard's son is only a teenager. A teenager, whose piss is still green—do you think that's possible?"
Tyrion knew he was talking nonsense, but facing this group of ill-informed Soldiers, he managed to fool quite a few of them.
Meanwhile, on an inconspicuous flagpole, Jon was watching coldly. As the saying goes, a person's reputation is like the shadow of a tree; Jon thought that when the siege began, he might be able to make good use of this 'advantage'.
Tyrion, of course, knew about Jon slaying the Mountain; this matter had already spread throughout the Riverlands.
Jon was almost regarded as a savior and hero by those Riverlands nobles and commoners. Although he hadn't confirmed it with Tywin yet, it was likely true.
If it were anyone else, Tyrion might not necessarily believe it, but because it was Jon, he had to believe it.
At this moment, Jon saw Tyrion speak again: "Everyone, the only thing I can be certain of is that we will win this battle, because—look!"
As he spoke, he pointed to a yellow banner with a crowned stag not far away, where a tall young man was sitting upright.
"Our King, Joffrey Baratheon, is with us. Long live Joffrey!"
Confirmed that the King was also fighting with them, the Soldiers mustered a little courage.
"Long live King Joffrey!" "Long live King Joffrey!" "Long live King Joffrey!"
The ramparts, which had been somewhat gloomy due to the pressure brought by the massive fleet, now seemed to recover some of their hot-blooded spirit.
No matter the era, a head of state being able to lead by example could always boost morale, especially since Joffrey's physique even surpassed that of an average adult.
But what they didn't know was that Joffrey was stiff all over at this moment and couldn't hear what those people were saying at all.
Tyrion had told him that he didn't need to fight anyone; he just needed to sit there and be 'placed' there like a statue.
But even with so many Soldiers surrounding him and the high city walls protecting him, Joffrey still had no sense of security.
He wanted to go back—back to the Red Keep, back to his mother, Cersei.
The raven on the flagpole took a deep look at Joffrey. He was a boy with golden hair and a handsome face, but his pair of green eyes couldn't stop trembling.
Although Jon didn't have any hatred for him, from a political perspective, he had to kill him.
Now that Myrcella and Tommen were both in his hands, as long as Joffrey was killed, the Alliance between the Lannisters and the Tyrells would collapse on its own.
He estimated that it would still be at least two hours before the battle began, so he withdrew his consciousness from the raven's body and returned to the army north of King's Landing.
Jon opened his eyes again, only to see two people beside him: one was Sola, who took care of him without leaving his side, and the other was Dondarrion.
Seeing Jon wake up, Dondarrion's eyes were full of surprise and admiration.
"Sola just told me you were sleeping. I really can't believe you could actually sleep under these circumstances."
Jon knew he had been misunderstood, but he accepted it calmly. He deliberately stretched and said: "With a great battle imminent, if even I, the commander, am restless, then what should the ordinary Soldiers do?"
Listening to Jon's justification, Dondarrion was somewhat speechless. If it were anyone else, this Lightning Lord would certainly have felt uneasy.
But Jon was different. He had turned the tide in the Battle of the Green Fork and had also devised a plan to capture Tywin's elite troops. Such a person was already on a different level from everyone else.
On the contrary, just as he said, Jon's carefree way of sleeping actually made him feel at ease.
Dondarrion took a deep breath, relaxed himself, and asked: "The army is still resting, and I have already sent out scouts to conceal our tracks. I don't know when you plan to start the siege? Also, where should we make our main attack?"
"Two hours at the latest, at the Old Gate."
Jon gave him a short answer, then added: "Sola, call the others over. We're holding a war council."
"Mm! Okay." Sola straightened her clothes and left quickly. About ten minutes later, Jon was surrounded by people.
Dondarrion, Thoros, Harrion, Harken, Tormien, Martin, Mond, and a group of tribal warrior leaders. Thinking back to the first meeting in the North, Jon was just a small fry standing next to Robb.
Now he was the 'Lord Commander' leading the entire army. Seeing this, Jon felt a surge of emotion, but with the great battle imminent, he knew there wasn't much time for him to express his feelings; these commanders needed to return to their positions as soon as possible.
There was no pre-battle discussion for this fight; Jon stated his battle plan directly:
"When we attack the city, we will use our heavy armored elites as the vanguard to take the gate in the shortest possible time. Then we will split into two groups to quickly seize the adjacent gates. Harken, Mond, Ser Thoros, after the gate is taken, you are responsible for clearing the enemy defense lines that have been broken through by our heavy armor units."
"Understood."
"Ser Dondarrion, I am entrusting all the remaining troops to you. You are responsible for consolidating our defensive lines!"
"Mm." Dondarrion nodded and asked: "Then who will be the first to lead the army to attack the city?"
Dondarrion looked at Jon, even though he already had the answer in his heart.
And Jon's answer confirmed his guess. Jon, carrying the Mountain's greatsword on his back, stood up, turned to look at the tall and magnificent walls of King's Landing, and said: "I will be the vanguard!"