As they neared the Kingswood, Lord Randyll Tarly's alertness sharpened considerably. He ordered his forces to halt and rest, then called for his nobles and knights to gather for a military council.
While they awaited the council's start, an unexpected guest entered the central command tent.
"Dickon?" Samwell looked in surprise at his younger brother, who entered wearing a full suit of steel armor. "What are you doing here?"
"Brother!" Dickon exclaimed excitedly. "I finally caught up with you! Please, let me fight at your side once more!"
Before Samwell could respond, Lord Randyll's face darkened as he interjected, "Why aren't you resting at home? I never planned for you to join this campaign."
"Father, I've fully recovered!" Dickon replied, though his gaze remained fixed on Samwell. "I'm ready to fight! Please don't make me waste my time lying in bed."
"You're really healed?" Samwell asked with a grin.
"Yes!" Dickon replied, patting his chest as if to prove his strength.
"I'll have the army maester examine you," Lord Randyll said, clearly unwilling to believe his son so easily. He also sensed something unusual in Dickon's demeanor—his younger son seemed warmer toward Samwell than toward himself, which left Lord Randyll feeling oddly jealous.
"Very well, Father." Dickon nodded, confident and composed, as if his recovery was indeed genuine.
Soon, the army's officers began gathering in the main tent. Lord Randyll set aside his concerns about Dickon and took his place at the head of the table, returning to the cold, authoritative figure who commanded respect and led the meeting to strategize their march and formations.
Standing to the side, Samwell watched as his father broke the forces into small units, organizing them with an unfamiliar structure that left him puzzled. Still, he knew better than to challenge his father's authority in a military council. As one of Westeros's most seasoned generals, Lord Randyll likely had good reason for his unusual formations, and Samwell decided it would be better to observe and learn.
He noticed that his father had divided the army by type: infantry units were split into spearmen, archers, and swordsmen, each forming between ten and fifteen smaller companies of 300 to 500 men each. The cavalry, however, remained as a single force divided into light and heavy cavalry, under centralized command.
Once they resumed their march, Lord Randyll positioned the swordsmen and spearmen at the outer edges of the formation, with archers set slightly further inward. The infantry formed organized blocks that moved forward in loose formation, which made the army appear somewhat scattered. Light and heavy cavalry units were dispersed among the infantry blocks, advancing under the cover of the infantry rather than on the wings, as would be typical in an open field.
At the center of the formation were over ten thousand camp followers, who pulled the supply carts under the protection of the infantry blocks and the cavalry.
Most Reach nobles were equally puzzled by Lord Randyll's strange formation, but no one dared question the renowned commander's authority.
Once they entered the Kingswood, the forest's dense canopy darkened the sky, filtering out the sunlight—not with clouds, but with a thick cover of leaves. The terrain quickly grew challenging, with trees, thickets, and streams forming natural barriers that made it difficult for the army to move as it would on open plains.
Seeing the challenges posed by the terrain, Samwell began to understand why his father had arranged the army into smaller units. The flexible formations were far better suited to maneuvering through such difficult ground.
The cavalry, which normally flanked the main army, was rendered almost useless here, as there was little space for maneuvering or scouting beyond the immediate vicinity.
Even Samwell's falcon and white dragon were hampered by the dense forest cover. If they flew high, the treetops obscured their view; if they flew low, their sightlines were too limited.
So when the first attack struck, neither he nor his scouts spotted the enemy in advance. He could only hear distant horns and the faint clash of steel from the rear left flank.
"Ignore them!" Lord Randyll commanded immediately. "Maintain formation and keep moving forward. No one is to stop or break formation to pursue!"
Messengers spread his orders through the ranks, ensuring every formation received the command.
Seeing Samwell's confusion, Lord Randyll explained, "It's Stormlander forest riders. They're as swift as the wind, and they know this forest far better than we do. We'll never catch them, and they won't leave us be. If we want to avoid being delayed indefinitely, we must get out of the forest as quickly as possible."
Samwell nodded thoughtfully, recalling the stories he'd heard of Stormlander riders specially trained for swift skirmishes in dense forests. Now he had finally seen them in action.
Cleopatra, his young white dragon, seemed excited by the scent of blood in the air, her wings fluttering as if ready to take flight toward the fighting. But Samwell held her back. The forest's dense terrain was far too restrictive for a dragon, and Cleopatra was still too young. He wasn't about to risk her in a battle she wasn't ready for.
Instead, he sent out his falcon to gather information on the skirmish.
Through the falcon's eyes, Samwell saw a few hundred Stormlander riders emerging from the trees. Their horses were smaller than those of the Reach, about half the size, but they were clearly well-trained, nimbly weaving between trees and obstacles as they charged.
Seeing the Reach forces' mixed formation of swordsmen and spearmen holding steady, the Stormlanders wisely avoided a direct assault, instead skirting around the edges of the formation to target the defenseless camp followers in the center.
The Reach archers retaliated quickly, filling the air with arrows, and several Stormlander riders were struck down, horses and men tumbling in the undergrowth.
As neighboring blocks of infantry closed ranks, light cavalry from the Reach also moved cautiously forward, attempting to trap the Stormlanders.
The two cavalry groups clashed briefly, loosing arrows and splattering blood before passing each other.
This was when the wealth of the Reach army became apparent. As one of the richest regions in the Seven Kingdoms, the Reach could afford well-made weapons and armor, second only to the wealth of the Westerlands. The Stormlanders were visibly outmatched in terms of equipment, and it showed.
Realizing they were at a disadvantage, the Stormlander riders broke off and scattered, only to be pursued by another group of Reach cavalry, who cut them down in the retreat.
Despite their initial success, the Reach riders held back, knowing they couldn't fully pursue the Stormlanders through the dense trees. Instead, they regrouped, collected the usable horses, and killed the wounded Stormlander riders before rejoining the main formation.
But soon, the Stormlanders launched another attack, this time with a thousand riders charging from three different directions.
It was here that Lord Randyll's formation proved invaluable. No matter which direction the Stormlanders attacked from, they met the solid defense of the Reach infantry or were hounded by the Reach's own light cavalry, which maneuvered carefully between the blocks. The formations supported each other so well that the Stormlanders could gain no ground, ultimately retreating after losing dozens more men.
During this clash, a group of Reach cavalry became overeager and pursued the fleeing Stormlanders in hopes of earning glory.
Lord Randyll's face hardened, and he immediately sent messengers to recall them.
When the pursuing unit returned, they were identified as knights from House Peake.
"Ser Marlin Peake, for disobeying orders, is to be executed." Lord Randyll's voice was cold and unyielding.
"Lord Randyll," pleaded Lord Titus Peake, trying to intercede for his kinsman. "Ser Marlin was reckless, yes, but no harm was done. Perhaps a flogging would be punishment enough?"
Lord Randyll's gaze was unyielding. "Lord Titus, disobeying orders warrants death, not flogging. Surely you know this?"
Titus's face darkened, but he dared not say more. At Randyll's signal, the guards dragged a protesting Ser Marlin away to his execution. Moments later, a bloody head was brought before the assembled lords.
House Peake had been among the first to back Samwell in the infamous hunting incident in Highgarden. Since then, some had taken to calling the Reach nobles the "Stag Faction" and the "Horse Faction," with Samwell, Randyll Tarly, and Mathis Rowan leading the Horse Faction, while House Peake remained a strong supporter. But Lord Randyll made no exceptions for allies—this demonstration of his unwavering discipline only reinforced his authority among the ranks.
Watching the grim scene, Lord Randyll turned to Samwell. "In the days of Gyles Gardener VII, an invasion of the Stormlands failed when his forces were ambushed by Stormlander skirmishers here in the Kingswood. They were harried for two months, unable to leave the forest, until their ranks scattered and supplies ran dry. The campaign ended in disaster."
Samwell nodded, beginning to understand. "So to avoid their fate, we need to keep moving through this forest without engaging?"
"Exactly."
(End of Chapter)