"Charge!"
At the forefront of the assault, a Dornish warrior slid down into the deep and wide trench, only to see a barrel being hurled down from the Riverlands soldiers behind the wooden palisades.
A barrel?
The Dornish warrior hesitated, sidestepping deftly to avoid it.
The barrel itself wasn't very sturdy and shattered on impact with the ground, splashing liquid all over him.
Panicked, he initially thought it was some kind of poison. However, after a moment, he noticed he felt fine physically, and instead smelled a strong aroma of alcohol.
He soon realized that it wasn't just him—his fellow soldiers were also under a similar "barrel attack."
But how was this supposed to hurt anyone?
The Dornish soldiers were momentarily stunned by the bizarre sight.
They quickly snapped out of it, though, dodging incoming barrels as they resumed their attack on the rudimentary defenses before them.
The trench was only slightly deeper than a person's height and had a shallow slope. Hastily constructed, it was full of exposed rocks that made climbing relatively easy. As long as they were careful to avoid the barrels—though, truthfully, the barrels didn't pose much danger anyway—they would be fine.
It wasn't long before the first of the Dornish warriors managed to climb out of the trench.
But here, they met a formidable resistance.
Behind the palisade stood a line of soldiers wielding long spears—some were Riverlanders, while others were darker-skinned wildlings. Under a single, unified command, they thrust their spears forward in unison, creating a forest of steel.
Quick-reacting Dornish fighters dodged or raised their shields to block the spears, but those who moved too slowly—or who tried to challenge the spears directly—soon found themselves with bloody wounds.
The Dornish didn't back down in the face of the spear wall; they weren't wildlings, after all, and had far superior combat skills. They kept evading the spears and used the moments when the defenders retracted their spears to advance and climb over the palisade.
After several rounds of thrusts, the Dornish grew adept at the Riverlanders' tactics, with only a few getting injured. Several even made it past the palisade and broke through the spear wall.
Of course, a few isolated fighters weren't enough to disrupt the entire formation.
The Dornish pressed on, undeterred, with more and more of them climbing over the palisade. Soon, the Riverlands' formation started to show signs of instability.
At that moment, however, the defenders suddenly retreated, swiftly abandoning the first defensive line.
A Dornish knight in a dark yellow cloak scaled the palisade, cutting down a retreating Riverlander, but when he saw the enemy's orderly retreat, he chose not to pursue recklessly.
Behind him, more Dornish warriors surged over the palisade, fully seizing the first line of defense.
"My lord, should we give chase?" asked one of the soldiers.
The knight looked ahead at the two similar palisades beyond, and the half-built castle in the distance. He shook his head and replied, "Hold your position and rest here. Go report the situation to Lord Ulrick."
"Yes, sir."
Hearing the report from the front lines, Ulrick felt a twinge of unease.
This was turning out to be one of the strangest battles he'd ever fought.
From the very beginning, there was something off.
He wasn't sure if it was because this Sir Caesar didn't know what he was doing, or if the Riverlanders were hatching some sort of scheme.
Ulrick suspected the latter.
After all, that Sir Caesar had managed to hold his own in the inhospitable Red Mountains and had even united thousands of wildlings. It was hard to imagine he was a fool.
"Bring me one of the barrels they threw. I want a look at it," Ulrick decided cautiously.
"Yes, my lord."
A soldier soon returned, carrying an intact barrel.
It had been abandoned just behind the first line of defense, probably before they'd had a chance to throw it.
Ulrick examined it closely, noting that it was just an ordinary oak barrel, but with its metal bands purposefully weakened so it would fall apart easily.
He carefully removed the stopper, immediately assaulted by a heady aroma.
Brandy.
Ulrick recognized the smell well; he'd originally planned to partner with Sir Caesar to sell this stuff.
But why was the enemy throwing away barrels of this?
This stuff couldn't kill anyone.
Due to limited technology, high-proof liquors were a rarity among the nobility of Westeros, and few understood that with a high enough alcohol content, spirits could ignite.
No matter how he looked at it, Ulrick couldn't link the liquor with fire.
Could it be poisonous?
That was the only explanation he could think of.
Startled, he quickly set the barrel down and instructed his men, "Tell the soldiers not to touch this liquor. Keep their mouths and noses covered; don't let it get into their bodies."
"Yes, my lord."
Ulrick then ordered the forward troops to rest at the first line of defense while he sent in a fresh force of three hundred soldiers to assault the Riverlanders' second defensive line.
The assault on the second line played out much the same as the first.
There were the same bizarre barrels, hastily-dug trenches, and palisades followed by a spear formation. But the line was spread thin, and it wasn't long before the Dornish found gaps in the defense and climbed over.
Once again, when they encountered a stronger push, the Riverlanders retreated.
The Dornish made no effort to chase after them, securing the second line before pressing on toward the third.
Once again, it was nearly the same routine.
With the earlier practice, the Dornish took the third line with minimal losses.
Now, only the final defensive position remained before them—
The half-built castle.
Even the most cautious Dornish fighters couldn't help but feel a hint of triumph.
"Ha! When did the men of the Reach get so cowardly? They won't even face us head-on!"
"True. They're certainly keeping their ranks in order, though."
"They march in especially neat lines—when they're retreating! Ha-ha-ha…"
Laughter and easy conversation filled the air as the Dornish fighters bantered and joked, as if they were out for a pleasant excursion.
Ulrick, however, still frowned. He stood before the last line of defense, sizing up the half-finished castle.
Compared to the hastily constructed palisades, the castle's walls were properly fortified: smooth stone surfaces with no footholds, making it difficult to scale without ladders, and a double-layered wall that would be almost impossible to breach without siege equipment.
Unfortunately for the defenders, the walls were barely ten feet high. Even a determined assault could likely overcome it.
If the Riverlanders continued with their cowardly tactics, Ulrick figured he'd be dining in the castle by nightfall.
With that in mind, he decided to test the waters.
"Ser Arys, take three hundred men and capture that so-called castle!"
"Yes, my lord!"
(End of Chapter)