Through the eyes of the Golden Eagle, Viserys observed that Lys's attacks were chaotic, with soldiers even trampling over one another. This disarray was not surprising. The battlefield was filled with slaves, but unlike the disciplined Unsullied, these were men who would remain slaves regardless of victory or defeat. Even the Lys soldiers, though currently on the winning side, were driven by little more than brutal aggression, their true nature ready to unravel at the first sign of trouble.
The soldiers of Tyrosh, on the other hand, fought desperately, like a maiden clinging to the last shred of her dignity in the face of impending violation. Their struggle only fueled the sadistic excitement of the Lys soldiers, who reveled in the violence. This spectacle gave Viserys a bold idea, especially when he noticed Bloodbeard—a brutal warrior—fighting without his helmet, seemingly unaware of the vulnerability that exposed.
At that moment, Bloodbeard was lost in the thrill of the slaughter, the screams of Tyrosh's soldiers a symphony to his ears. But his grim enjoyment was suddenly interrupted by a sharp whistle. Initially, he thought it was a trick of the mind, but the growing thunder of hooves quickly proved otherwise—a cavalry unit was fast approaching.
He turned to see a cavalry bearing a blue and white striped flag, charging towards him, raising a massive cloud of dust in their wake. Bloodbeard's first reaction was one of surprise, his killing frenzy momentarily slowed. By the usual logic of sellswords, facing near-certain defeat meant it was time to retreat. 'So why were the Windblown charging now? Were they here to deliver themselves to death?'
And it seemed they were serious—well-equipped and determined. A fleeting thought crossed Bloodbeard's mind: 'Could they be here for revenge?' But he quickly dismissed it. No matter their intentions, a small force like that couldn't possibly turn the tide of the battle.
Meanwhile, the noblemen of Lys, watching from the high ground, noticed something amiss. They hadn't expected the Windblown to stay, let alone send a cavalry to the front. "Lord, a team of 300 cavalry from the Windblown is rapidly approaching," a Lys scout reported.
"Hmph! Just 300 men? Block them!" Rovi scoffed, confident that in a battle involving tens of thousands, a mere 300 cavalrymen posed no threat. The only surprise was that the Windblown had sent anyone at all.
As the Lys cavalry moved to intercept, a thousand Lys soldiers formed a line to block the Windblown's advance. Viserys knew that unless they broke through this line, their effort would be in vain.
At the sound of the whistle, the cavalry shifted formation into a wedge. Another whistle signaled them to ready their bows. In a coordinated motion, more than 300 arrows were loosed, creating a lethal rain that tore through the Lys defense line. With Viserys at the forefront, the cavalry charged through the opening, breaking the line in a flash.
The maneuver left Rovi on the high ground nearly speechless. He couldn't comprehend how these soldiers could act with such unified precision. Realizing that this 300-man cavalry was no ordinary force, Rovi understood they had to be dealt with carefully. He turned to one of the nobles nearby and shouted, "You! Take the rest of the men and block them!"
"Me?" the nobleman stammered in disbelief. Everyone on the fortress had witnessed the Windblown's sudden, swift advance, and even from a distance, the sight was disorienting. But disbelief was no excuse; disobeying orders on the battlefield was a capital offense. Reluctantly, the nobleman gritted his teeth and led the remaining 1,000 soldiers from the fortress to confront the strange cavalry.
Viserys, having already broken through the initial defense line, arrived at the main battlefield with over 300 cavalrymen at his back. They charged straight into the weakest part of the Lys army.
At that moment, Toland finally spotted the Windblown banner in the distance and felt a wave of relief. But when he saw the cavalry plunging headlong into the Lys army formation, his relief turned to anxiety. 'Are they insane? How do they plan to fight like this? With only 300 men, they think they can break through an army of 10,000?'
The Lys nobles watching from the fortress high ground were initially overjoyed. It seemed they had overestimated this cavalry. All they needed to do was block them off, and the Windblown would be annihilated. What they didn't realize was that Viserys could see the entire battlefield clearly through the eyes of the Golden Eagle overhead.
As Lys soldiers regrouped to block him, Viserys noticed reinforcements arriving. He blew his whistle again, signaling the cavalry to change formation. With Viserys at the front, they charged as a single unit, slicing through the Lys formation like a dagger before slipping out through a gap between the pursuing soldiers, retreating from the main battlefield.
Rovi, watching from the fortress tower, was left nearly speechless. The cavalry moved like slippery eels, impossible to catch. Their actions significantly weakened Lys's offensive, allowing Toland's nearly shattered defense line to stabilize. The panicked, fleeing soldiers were rallied back to the front line, transforming what had been a massacre into a face-to-face confrontation.
Beep, beep, beep—through the Golden Eagle's eyes, Viserys spotted another weakness in the Lys defenses, this time in the direction of the Company of the Cat. A line that had been on the brink of collapse was suddenly reinforced, causing confusion among their ranks. Seizing the opportunity, Viserys led his men in another charge. The sound of whistling arrows filled the air as a dense rain of arrows opened yet another gap. The cavalry repeated their maneuver, cutting into the Company of the Cat's formation before retreating. As they withdrew, Viserys stood on his horse and, to the astonishment of everyone watching, shot an arrow that killed a sergeant major of the Company of the Cat.
Bloodbeard seethed with rage, never having felt so humiliated. Viserys's hit-and-run tactics might not inflict massive casualties—after all, there were less than 300 cavalrymen, and each charge could only kill a few dozen enemies. But his strategy was like a phantom in the fog, appearing and disappearing, delivering stinging blows to the Lys forces. The damage might be minimal, but the insult was profound.
This method proved highly effective. Lys's offensive rhythm was disrupted, and signs of retreat began to emerge. "Lord, let's call it a day. After this battle, the Tyrosh won't be able to take Dragon's Flame Fortress anytime soon," suggested Feles.
Rovi was tempted by the suggestion. But the thought of ending the battle now, especially after having ignored Feles's earlier advice, made him hesitate. Although the battle was no longer one-sided, his forces were still in the lead. Wouldn't retreating now make him appear incompetent? So, he decided to press on.
Just as he was about to give the order, a Lys scout rushed to him with alarming news: "Lord, the main force of the Windblown has arrived!"
"What!" Rovi turned to look in the direction of the Windblown, his heart sinking as he saw their forces on the edge of the battlefield. With the soldiers of both sides already engaged in close combat, a hasty retreat would lead to chaos. A chill ran down his spine, and the scene around him seemed to spin like a whirlwind.