Chapter 92: Forward!

The scorching sun was blazing down, mirroring the fire in Samwell's heart.

He was fully armored, holding a lance in his hand, the Valyrian steel greatsword Heartsbane strapped to his back. Mounted on a white steed, he stood at the forefront of a column of over seven hundred cavalry, all of them clad in gleaming armor.

They stood like steel statues along the ridgeline, waiting for the order to charge.

The dry, hot wind couldn't shake them in the slightest, though it made the banners around them crackle and snap.

Under the fierce Dornish sun, their steel armor quickly became unbearably hot, yet not a single one of these Reach knights showed any hint of discomfort or impatience.

Samwell couldn't help but reach for the greatsword strapped to his back.

The sword, Heartsbane, a Valyrian steel blade passed down within House Tarly for over five hundred years, radiated a cool chill, offering some relief from the oppressive heat.

Only about half a year ago, Margaery Tyrell, the "Rose of Highgarden," had used this very sword to knight him.

The scene was still vivid in his mind.

At that time, his father, Lord Randyll Tarly, had even said that Samwell was unworthy of touching Heartsbane's hilt. And now, his father had entrusted this sword to him, allowing him to wield it as he led the family's knights into battle.

How strange and unpredictable fate could be.

Bwoooom—

A low, resonant horn interrupted Samwell's thoughts.

He looked toward the sound and saw Randyll Tarly's troops charging at the rear of the Dornish forces.

At the same time, the garrison at the harbor, following their signal, launched a counterattack.

Samwell's breathing quickened.

But he forced himself to stay calm, telling himself—

'Not yet'.

...

"What's going on?"

"How did the Reachmen manage to attack us from behind?"

"They must have landed upstream on the Torrentine and then attacked from there!"

"Where were the scouts? Damn Yronwood idiots! They didn't catch any of this?"

...

Panic and confusion swept through the Dornish army.

Among them, the knights of High Hermitage wore the darkest expressions.

They knew that there were very few places suitable for landing an army of that size along the upper Torrentine. In such a short time, the only feasible location for disembarking thousands of soldiers would have been the docks at High Hermitage.

If the Reachmen had indeed landed at High Hermitage... then the castle...

Darkstar Gerold Dayne was livid, wishing he could fly back to his home right then.

"Quiet, all of you!"

Princess Arianne's stern voice cut through the chaos as she quickly scanned the faces of the knights around her. She spoke in a low, steady tone. "What is there to fear? If the Reachmen dare emerge from behind the palisades, then we'll make them regret it!"

"Yes! We still have the advantage in numbers! Without the protection of their barricades, they're no match for us!"

"Yes, let's face them head-on!"

"We won't lose!"

Seeing the fighters' spirit reignite, Arianne took a silent breath of relief.

The Reach's arrival had been so sudden that there hadn't been time to reorganize their formations. However, she assigned battle positions at once, speaking as firmly and confidently as ever:

"Dorne's brave warriors! Today is the day we prove our valor before the Seven! I will personally beat the drums until we achieve victory!"

With that, the Dornish princess turned and ascended a nearby hill.

There, the Dornish war drums awaited her.

"For Princess Arianne!"

"For Dorne!"

"For glory!"

...

The drums boomed, each beat a heavy blow upon the hearts of the fighters.

Samwell watched as the two armies met, like two distinct rivers crashing into each other, spraying a red mist of blood into the air.

The moment had come.

Taking a deep breath, he lightly nudged his horse's flanks.

His horse began a slow trot forward.

The seven hundred knights behind him followed closely, maintaining formation.

They moved over the ridge and down the slope, their pace still measured.

The distance was still too great. Pushing the horses to a full gallop too early would only exhaust them.

As they reached the flatter terrain, the Dornish formation came into clear view.

A sharp, almost palpable killing intent began to rise over the Reach knights, thickening the air around them.

Samwell lowered his visor, leveled his lance, and leaned forward slightly.

His battle-hardened horse understood his intent immediately and began to pick up speed.

The seven hundred knights behind him moved in unison, mirroring his posture.

The thunder of hooves grew louder, until it roared like rolling thunder, echoing across the plains.

The earth trembled beneath them, as if in a small earthquake.

Pebbles skittered along the ground, wild grasses bent low, and even the blazing sun seemed to retreat behind a cloud, as if cowed by the spectacle.

At last, this terrifying display caught the Dornish forces' attention.

But by now, it was too late.

The Reach cavalry had reached their maximum speed, and in the blink of an eye, the few hundred yards between them and the Dornish right wing had vanished.

They surged forward like an arrow shot from a bow, piercing the right flank of the Dornish line.

'Forward'.

Samwell recited his father's command silently, purging all stray thoughts from his mind.

The Dornish knights scrambled to react, rallying under a few officers to try and reinforce their vulnerable right flank.

But they were already too late. Not only were their numbers insufficient, but they had no cohesive formation. Worse, they lacked the time and space to build up speed.

And speed is everything to a cavalry.

Bang!

The first collision erupted.

The Reach knights slammed into a haphazardly assembled group of Dornish riders.

Brave and unyielding, these Dornish knights had stepped up to confront the oncoming Reach cavalry, attempting to buy time for their infantry to reorganize.

But their fate was sealed.

Samwell's lance struck down the first Dornish knight, hot blood splattering across his armor, wrapping him in a crimson shroud.

He did not slow down in the slightest.

Forward.

The seven hundred Reach knights charged like a storm of steel, carving a path of death through the Dornish right flank.

Under the desperate shouts of Dornish officers, a cluster of infantry tried to form a shield wall with oak shields and long spears, attempting to halt the advancing Reach cavalry.

But on their faces, only fear and despair were etched.

In the face of armored knights charging at full speed, no one could remain calm or resolute.

The thunderous roar of hooves became the only sound on the battlefield.

Each beat was a heavy blow on the hearts of the Dornish soldiers, filling them with dread, making them tremble, igniting within them the urge to turn and flee.

But was escape even possible?

Samwell could see the terror in the eyes of the enemy soldiers. He took a deep breath and held it, preparing to meet the iron and blood ahead.

Forward.

Bang! Bang! Boom!

With a series of deafening crashes, the leading Reach knights smashed into the hastily assembled Dornish shield wall.

In an instant, countless Dornish soldiers, like puppets on strings, were flung through the air, blood spraying from their bodies.

The defenses on the Dornish right were as fragile as paper against the impact of the Reach cavalry, tearing open a gaping wound through which these fearsome steel warriors surged.

Forward.

Samwell's vision turned red, his nose filled with the scent of iron. His lance had already shattered.

But he would not stop.

He cast aside the broken lance, drew Heartsbane from his back, and swung with all his might.

The Valyrian steel sword, impossibly sharp, sliced effortlessly through any blade, armor, or shield that dared block its path.

And of course, through flesh and bone.

Forward.

With Samwell leading the way, the Reach cavalry punched deeper and deeper into the heart of the Dornish forces, as if a red-hot blade were cutting through soft butter, relentless and unstoppable.

Nothing that stood before their iron hooves survived.

Forward!

Everywhere they passed, a bloody storm followed, leaving behind a wasteland of broken bodies and shattered shields.

Samwell's arms had gone numb, his helmet visor stained with so much blood that his vision was blurred.

But he kept his father's command in mind—

Forward!!!

(End of Chapter)