Under the dense rain of arrows from the Crabb longbows, the wildling coalition began to rout before they could even reach the Crabb spearmen’s phalanx.
The mountain wind was bite-cold, stinging the skin.
The smell of blood hung thick in the air, filled with continuous wails of agony.
The slaughter was far from over.
A Crabb house guard caught up with a fleeing mountain wildling.
Gripping his longsword tightly, he drove it mercilessly under the wildling’s armpit with a wet squelch.
The blade pierced through ribs directly into the heart; as he yanked the sword back, warm blood surged forth.
Ser Marston charged valiantly on the front line.
Faced with a wildling thrusting a spear at him, he side-stepped with ease, trapped the spear shaft under one arm, and swept his sword around in a fierce arc, severing the wildling’s head in a single stroke.
The Crabb longbowmen split into small squads of twenty to thirty, assisting in the hunt and slaughter.
The pursuit turned into a one-sided massacre.
*** After the battle, heavy rain fell without warning.
Inside Green’s tent.
Enjoying a rare moment of respite, Green conversed with his commanders in a relaxed atmosphere.
Ser Pell stepped briskly into the tent, soaked to the skin by the downpour.
Always composed, his face now carried a trace of anxious urgency.
Ser Pell stopped before Green and bowed.
“Good day, my lord!” Green’s eyes flickered, his brow furrowing slightly.
“Loyal Ser Pell, you’ve had a hard journey.
Is there urgent military news?” Green’s steady tone soothed Pell’s agitation.
“Yes, my lord!
Dyre Den has moved suddenly.
They have allied with friendly wildling tribes, rallying a force of at least ten thousand men.
This is their challenge!” Green took the scroll with an amused glint in his eye, skimming over it before speaking with a dry chuckle.
“Heh, House Brune of Dyre Den?
Claiming House Crabb has shattered the peace of Crackclaw Point?” Crackclaw Point, though officially part of the Crownlands, was truly a lawless realm.
When nobles clashed over interests, they fought whenever they pleased, without a thought for the Red Keep.
By the laws of the realm, nobles of the Crownlands were forbidden to wage war on one another without command from the Red Keep.
*** Green rose and walked to the table where a large map was laid out.
The commanders gathered around, and the tension in the room instantly mounted.
They did not have to wait long.
Staring at the map, Green tapped his finger on a spot.
“Here—Crescent Valley.
We will crush them here.” Crescent Valley lay roughly twenty miles northeast of Green’s current encampment.
Its entrance and exit were about a hundred meters wide, opening into a relatively spacious valley flanked by steep cliffs.
Shaped like a crescent moon, the valley had been named Crescent Valley by the locals of Crackclaw Point—a rare piece of poetic naming for them.
Green then pointed to a gentle slope a short distance from the valley entrance.
“Pell, send word back to House Brune.
House Crabb accepts their challenge.
We will settle this here.” Based on the intelligence provided by Pell, the battleground Green chose was roughly equidistant and fair for both sides.
He had no doubt they would accept.
There were other places nearby with similar terrain to Crescent Valley, but Green had selected one that Dyre Den could easily agree to.
If Dyre Den insisted on rejecting all of Green’s suggested locations, Green would simply abandon pitched field battle, fortify his camp, and fight a battle of defense behind earthworks.
The enemy had ten thousand men, while House Crabb had less than a thousand; defending against such odds would bring no stain upon his house’s honor.
Besides, House Crabb had taken the initiative to offer a field battle, and the proposed site fully respected the martial traditions of Crackclaw Point.
*** Just as Green expected, once the combined forces of Dyre Den and the wildlings confirmed the location, they readily agreed.
The battlefield was fair and aligned with local traditions, so no one suspected a trap.
Though they mocked Green on the surface for his youthful arrogance and recklessness, deep down they respected his courage to fight—a trait quintessentially Crackclaw.
Three days later, at the appointed time, Green arrived at the battlefield alongside Emparo, leading his house guards, auxiliary troops, and surrendered captives disguised as Crabb soldiers.
Amid the dark mass of wildling ranks, banners embroidered with the sigil of House Brune of Dyre Den stood out strikingly.
Green observed that beneath House Brune’s banners were roughly two hundred disciplined soldiers formed in a tight square, standing in stark contrast to the surrounding wildlings.
House Brune’s forces possessed about fifty sets of iron armor and twenty warhorses—distinctly wealthier than House Crabb.
On the Crabb side, only Green, Emparo, and a few of Green’s personal guards were mounted.
The impoverished Lord Green sighed inwardly as he gazed upon House Brune’s formation.
*That’s practically enough iron armor and warhorses for my upcoming trip to King’s Landing.
No need for extra spending—saves a heap of Gold Dragons.* Indeed, plundering was far better than honest labor.
Green suddenly realized that the Ironborn had probably coined their motto under circumstances much like his own.
Emparo finished his observation as well and said, “Lord Green, they have about fifty horses in total.
It’s a pity Raina can’t shoot from horseback.
With one more mounted archer, taking them down would be much easier.” Green seemed to be in high spirits, a smile breaking across his face.
“I’ll assign two mounted guards to ride with you.
Just remember to maintain a safe distance.
Our primary targets are any cavalry that charge at us.” No one knew what Green was truly thinking.
No one in their right mind would guess that his mood had brightened simply because of House Brune’s gear; most assumed their warrior-lord was merely energized by the impending battle.
Emparo nodded gravely.
“Understood, my lord.
Rest assured!” Green gave Emparo’s shoulder a reassuring tap.
“Good.
I have always trusted you.
It’s high time you got a set of plate armor yourself.” The usually straightforward Emparo surprisingly caught Green’s drift right away, and together they locked their eyes onto House Brune’s formation.
*** The Vale, Gulltown.