The wildling coalition, under the intense rain of arrow by the longbowmen, didn't even get close to the spearmen formation and began to retreat.
The mountain wind was cold, piercing the skin.
The air was filled with the smell of blood, and the wails of agony were incessant.
But the slaughter must continue.
A soldier caught up with a fleeing mountain wildling. Gripping his longsword tightly, the soldier lunged and stabbed viciously under the wildling's armpit.
The longsword pierced through the wildling's ribs and into his heart. As the Crabb soldier withdrew the sword, warm blood gushed out.
Ser Mayson bravely charged at the forefront. Faced with a wildling thrusting a spear, he easily sidestepped, seized the shaft of the spear, and swiftly swung his sword, beheading the wildling.
Crabb longbowmen, grouped in 20-30, coordinated their attacks, aiding in the slaughter.
The pursuit of the wildlings seemed like a one-sided massacre.
...
After the battle, a heavy rain suddenly poured down.
Inside Gallen's tent.
Gallen and his commanders, enjoying a rare leisurely moment, conversed amiably, the atmosphere inside the tent harmonious.
Ser Phillip, soaked from head to toe by the rain, hurriedly entered Gallen's tent. Normally composed, Phillip's face now showed a hint of agitation.
Phillip bowed before Gallen: "Good day, my lord!"
Gallen's eyes flickered, his brows slightly furrowed. "Ser Phillip, have you urgent military news?"
Gallen's steady voice calmed Phillip's anxious mood. "Yes, my lord! Dyre Den has suddenly taken action. They've contacted friendly wildling tribes and have at least ten thousand men. This is a declaration of war!"
Gallen took the war letter handed by Phillip and glanced at it, his tone tinged with sarcasm. "Ha, the Brunes of Dyre Den? House Crabb has shattered the peace of Crackclaw Point?"
As expected, Crackclaw Point, a royal fief, was indeed a lawless land. When conflicts of interest arose between nobles, they fought without considering the Red Keep.
According to the laws of the kingdom, nobles of royal fiefs couldn't wage war against each other without orders from the Red Keep.
...
Gallen rose and walked to the table where a large map was spread out, everyone gathering around, the atmosphere suddenly tense.
Without much delay, everyone's gaze fixed on the map as Gallen pointed to a location. "Here, Crescent Valley. We'll crush them here!"
Crescent Valley was located about twenty miles northeast of Gallen's camp. The valley had a narrow entrance and exit, about a hundred meters wide, with spacious interiors and steep sides. Resembling a crescent moon, the culturally significant valley was named by the people of Crackclaw Point.
Gallen then pointed to a location some distance from the entrance of Crescent Valley. "Phillip, send a reply to House Brune. House Crabb accepts their challenge. We'll settle this here."
Based on the intelligence provided by Phillip, the location chosen by Gallen for the decisive battle was relatively fair for both sides in terms of positioning. Gallen wasn't worried they wouldn't accept.
Nearby, there were other locations similar to Crescent Valley, but Gallen chose one that Dyre Den would readily accept.
If Dyre Den insisted on rejecting all the locations chosen by Gallen, he would abandon the field battle and strengthen the camp's defenses, relying on fortifications for a defensive battle.
With ten thousand men on the other side and less than a thousand soldiers on their's, spreading word wouldn't affect the family's honor.
Moreover, Crabb had actively initiated the field battle, and the chosen location already showed full respect for Crackclaw Point's traditions.
...
As Gallen expected, once Dyre Den and the wildling coalition confirmed the location, they readily agreed.
The chosen location for the decisive battle was reasonable and adhered to the traditions of Crackclaw Point. No one suspected any conspiracy.
Though they outwardly mocked Gallen's youthful arrogance and recklessness, internally, they admired his courage to fight. This was very Crackclaw Point.
Three days later, at the agreed-upon time, Gallen, accompanied by Emer, led the soldiers, along with auxiliary troops and soldiers disguised as defectors, to the battlefield.
In the sea of wildling formations, the banner of House Brune of Dyre Den was conspicuously displayed.
Observing, Gallen noted that beneath the Brune banner, there were about 200 soldiers, organized into a neat formation, amidst the surrounding wildlings.
The Brune soldiers had about 50 suits of armor and 20 warhorses, wealthier than House Crabb.
Gallen and Emer rode warhorses on their side, accompanied by a few of Gallen's guards.
The impoverished Lord Gallen looked at the formation of House Brune and sighed inwardly. The amount of armor and warhorses needed for the trip to King's Landing was almost enough, saving a considerable amount of gold dragons without additional expenses.
Indeed, seizing was better than tilling.
Suddenly, Gallen understood; he speculated that the ironborn had come to the same realization under circumstances similar to his.
After observing as well, Emer said, "My lord, together they have about 50 horses. It's a pity Reyna doesn't know how to ride and shoot. With one more person, it would be easier to shoot them down."
Gallen seemed to be in a good mood, a smile playing on his face. "I'll assign two horse-riding guards to accompany you. Remember to maintain a safe distance. Our primary goal is to deal with the incoming cavalry."
No one knew Gallen's inner thoughts, nor would anyone think his sudden change in mood was due to House Brune's equipment. At most, they would assume the skilled lord was excited for the upcoming battle.
Emer responded solemnly, "Understood, my lord. You can rest assured!"
Gallen reached out and lightly patted Emer's arm. "Good, I've always believed in you. It's time you had a suit of plate armor too."
Emer, with her straightforward thinking, immediately understood the meaning behind Gallen's words. Together with Gallen, they focused their gaze on House Brune's formation.
...
...
The Vale, Gulltown.