*Thwip, thwip, thwip!* *Thwack, thwack, thwack!* The 120 women of the Thorn Company fired a volley, the whistling arrows raising a ceaseless gale of sound.
The continuous volleys blotted out the sun like dark storm clouds, thick and dense.
*Thud!* *Thud!
Thud!* *Thud!
Thud!
Thud!* The wildlings charging forward were continually pierced through and felled, their wails echoing across the field.
The wildling chieftains had never witnessed such long-range arrow barrages.
In their terror, they roared even louder, constantly urging their people to advance faster.
Ser Mason stared at the ground a hundred yards ahead of their lines—the killing zone created by the Thorn Company’s volleys—and was secretly astounded.
By the time the twentieth volley was loosed, Grim could clearly sense the Thorn Company’s rate of fire slowing down.
Over two hundred wildlings had fallen beneath the relentless barrage.
Chaos rippled through their ranks, and a small fraction of them turned and fled, ignoring the roars of their chieftains.
When the twenty-fifth volley struck, felling dozens more, the wildling horde broke into a mass rout.
Grim decisively ordered his archers to cease fire.
Ser Mason commanded the two hundred Crabb clansmen holding the line (armed primarily with shields, longswords, and spears) to begin their advance upon the routing wildlings.
The Crabb clansmen marched forward in long strides to a rhythmic chant, their momentum unstoppable.
The Crabb clansmen had an average of over ten years of service; every man was a battle-hardened veteran.
These were the elite soldiers who had survived over a decade of constant warfare against the mountain wildlings, beginning in the days of Grim’s mother.
They were the true foundation of House Crabb.
As the Crabb clansmen marched forward to their rhythmic chant, the already terrified wildlings fell into even deeper panic and disarray.
Occasionally, a chieftain would rally a handful of men to charge the Crabb formation, only to be instantly swallowed up by the advancing ranks.
To Grim, these wildlings waiting to be captured or surrender were all his future subjects in reserve.
Judging by their performance today, they certainly lived up to the name “wildlings.” If he wanted to govern these wildlings in the future, the only method Grim could think of was strict law.
*I might even have to legislate which foot they step out of the house with,* Grim sighed inwardly.
The game of thrones was about to begin, and the military power in his hands was his only true trump card.
To achieve results in a short time, Crackclaw Point would have to become one massive military camp encompassing all its people.
Having confirmed the development path suited for his domain, Grim hesitated no longer.
The Thorn Company had only been formed a few days ago.
To manage twenty-five consecutive volleys meant their performance today was nothing short of stunning.
Empara had also proven her capability to lead troops.
As the Thorn Company rested, some of the spearwives simply…
and it sparked a chain reaction.
Grim didn’t know how to describe it.
Maybe it was too hot, so they went topless?
A sea of pale flesh.
Grim got a very direct sense of the physical traits of the spearwives of Crackclaw Point…
sturdy, and large.
Following Grim’s gaze, Empara, who stood solemnly by his side, also noticed the situation.
Remembering something, her cheeks flushed a dark red.
Some of the spearwives who caught Grim looking stared back brazenly, even boldly thrusting their chests out.
*If this were my past life, I might have whistled and given them a thumbs-up.* A lord needed to maintain his image.
This was a memory from the education of Grim’s original mother, and the current Grim wholeheartedly agreed.
Besides, in Westeros, a thumbs-up did not mean praise.
*Unknown gestures are easily misunderstood.
In Crackclaw Point, a man has to learn to protect himself when he goes out!* Grim merely offered a faint smile and naturally shifted his gaze elsewhere.
He couldn’t explain to them the reasoning behind why soldiers needed to care about their image, and this was hardly the appropriate occasion to discuss it.
*I’ll just add military bearing and image to their future training regimen,* Grim thought.
*Give it enough time, and they’ll get used to it.* After the Thorn Company rested for a short while, Grim ordered them to follow the clansmen and join the pursuit of the routing wildlings.
Ser Pell’s Survey Corps had already taken down one settlement.
Their first battle was a resounding success; under the sudden ambush, only a few men suffered minor injuries, with zero fatalities.
The Survey Corps captured nearly three hundred people in that first conquered settlement.
The mountain wildlings lived by hunting and foraging for wild fruit, so the spoils consisted mainly of furs and dried meat.
The Survey Corps only found a small pouch of golden dragons in the chieftain’s hut—barely more than a dozen coins, less than twenty.
Ser Pell had the captives carry the spoils themselves, then ordered the settlement’s huts put to the torch.
After executing a few captives on the spot who were incited to rebel by the burning of their homes, the Survey Corps detached twenty men to escort the prisoners back to the domain.
Ser Pell spoke to the squad leader in charge of the escort.
“Someone will be waiting to receive the captives near the domain.
If you get hungry, chew on dried meat, but do not stop to rest.
Once you hand them over, come straight back to rendezvous with me.
Stay safe on the road.
I will be waiting for you at the second settlement.” “If the captives make even the slightest suspicious move on the road, kill them immediately.
Do not hesitate.” Having given his instructions, Ser Pell patted the squad leader on the shoulder and finished, “Go.” By nightfall, Ser Pell had finally dealt with three large settlements.
The Survey Corps rested directly in the third settlement, and at daybreak the next morning, they marched back to the domain, escorting their captives and spoils.
On their way back, the Survey Corps encountered several bands of routing wildlings and captured a few dozen more.
In their first deployment, the Survey Corps lost twenty-three men dead.
After two days of simple rest and reorganization, the soldiers of House Crabb formed into groups of thirty to fifty and began systematically striking out at the remaining small settlements.
All captives were escorted back to the Crabb domain, and the huts of the wildling settlements were burned to the ground.
Ser Mason personally escorted the final batch of captives back to the Whispers.
As he arrived, he happened to see the steward, Herschel, standing before the storehouse doors, his large belly protruding and a beaming smile on his face.
Ser Mason was also in high spirits and teased, “Old friend, you seem to be in a good mood.” Steward Herschel replied, still beaming, “Good day, Ser Mason.
The storehouse is nearly overflowing with furs.
It has been a long time since we had such abundance.” Ser Mason sighed with emotion.
“Indeed.
It is as if my lord was born for war.
The wildlings hadn’t even reached us before the Thorn Company’s volleys broke them completely.
This is the first time we’ve taken so few casualties.” “Herschel, I no longer have any doubts about our lord’s decision to reclaim the old Crabb lands.
I am brimming with confidence.” “Yes, ser, as am I.
House Crabb shall reclaim the old lands at last!” “Go inside and wash up, ser.
Surana and I have been preparing for tonight’s victory feast for days.
It will be a grand spread.
We can have a good drink tonight.” The Whispers, inside the lord’s study.
Grim, Maester Aehl, and Kaleia had nearly finished tallying the spoils of the war.
There were over 2,500 captives in total, with nearly 700 elderly and children among them.
Of the remaining 1,800 or so, women accounted for 1,200.
It truly was a case of many women and few men.
To prevent the captives from colluding, they first had to be completely broken up.
They had to ensure that the vast majority of the people around any given captive were strangers from other settlements.
To absorb this population as smoothly as possible, careful arrangements were required.
It could not be rushed; everything had to be done for the sake of stability.
Once they were broken up, they would be dispersed in batches across the domain and assigned to labor.
In the beginning, the various companies would still need to cooperate with the sheriffs to guard and intimidate them.
Grim leaned back in his chair, feeling somewhat exhausted.
He was tired, certainly, but he was in a very cheerful mood.
With captives to take over the manual labor, Crackclaw Point could free up the vast majority of its able-bodied men.
Crackclaw Point could immediately launch a second wave of conscription.
For the time being, Grim’s source of joy was simply spamming troops.
*Spamming troops makes me happy!*