Chapter 439: Caution

As Samwell rode the white dragon back to the river crossing, the Southern army was already cleaning up the battlefield.

The battle had been short. This was due in part to the Southern army's thorough preparation and the dragon's participation, but also because the Northern army's main forces had not yet arrived, and Tywin Lannister had executed an extremely decisive retreat.

Even so, the situation was far from ideal for the Southern forces.

Fewer than a thousand soldiers had made it to the northern bank.

Getting 120,000 troops across the narrow floating bridge would take an immense amount of time. The initial success of transferring nearly a thousand soldiers—despite facing resistance—did not reflect the overall difficulty of the operation.

Moving men across the river was the easy part. The real challenge lay in transporting horses, provisions, and other supplies—tasks that consumed time and manpower.

During the crossing, the Northern army could launch another assault at any moment, potentially driving the Southern forces back into the Blackwater River.

The worst-case scenario would be if the Southern army was mid-crossing and the floating bridge was destroyed, splitting their forces in half and leaving them isolated. In such a scenario, the Southern army's numerical advantage would be rendered meaningless.

Thanks to Varys tip, Samwell was well aware of Tywin Lannister's plan.

The Northern forces intended to destroy the floating bridge using the Braavosi fleet, which was expected to return to the Blackwater River.

Samwell couldn't help but feel a measure of relief.

Fortunately, Euron "Crow's Eye" Greyjoy had disrupted expectations by veering from convention. Instead of plundering the rich and vulnerable Reach, he had sailed into the Blackwater Bay.

This had forced the Stormland fleet to return to defend the bay.

Although the Stormland fleet now faced threats from both the Iron Fleet and the Braavosi fleet, Samwell was confident in his navy's ability to hold the river's mouth, preventing enemy ships from entering the Blackwater River.

With that confidence, Samwell had ordered the river crossing to begin.

As he had anticipated, the crossing itself was not difficult.

Grey Worm soon reported the casualties, but Samwell only skimmed the numbers before setting them aside.

The losses were "negligible" and hardly worth his attention.

Though this attitude might seem cold, years of war had taught Samwell to view casualties as mere numbers. Without this detachment, he could never have reached his current position.

By the time the riverbank was cleared, night had fallen. Samwell ordered the troops on the northern bank to construct defensive fortifications while urging the main force to continue crossing.

To expedite the process, the builders began widening the floating bridge.

More of the strange-looking boats were floated downriver and moored beside the bridge, chained together and covered with planks to create additional pathways.

However, no matter how much the bridge was reinforced or widened, it remained a temporary structure with limited capacity. Infantry could cross at a reasonable pace, but the cavalry was another matter entirely.

Horses, unlike humans, were prone to panic on the swaying and unsteady bridge. Many slipped into the river, causing moments of chaos.

That night, the Blackwater River was ablaze with torchlight, filled with the sounds of shouting soldiers, neighing horses, and the occasional splash of water. The cacophony underscored the grueling nature of the crossing.

By dawn, nearly 5,000 infantry had made it to the northern bank, but fewer than 1,000 cavalry had crossed.

The slow progress frustrated Samwell, but there was little he could do.

Meanwhile, the Northern coalition's main forces arrived near the crossing point.

However, they did not launch an immediate assault. Instead, they camped three miles from the riverbank, seemingly in no hurry to attack.

Samwell chuckled to himself. "Tywin has finally outsmarted himself."

The Northern forces were clearly waiting for the Braavosi fleet to destroy the floating bridge.

In Tywin's eyes, the Southern troops crossing the river were doomed to lose their supply lines and become isolated. There was no need to rush an attack.

This miscalculation gave Samwell's forces the time they needed to cross the river unopposed. Otherwise, if the Northern forces had launched a full-scale assault now, the Southern army would have paid a heavy price to hold their beachhead.

But as the days passed, Tywin began to sense that something was amiss.

The Braavosi fleet had yet to appear, while the number of Southern troops on the northern bank continued to grow.

By the third day, nearly 40,000 Southern soldiers had crossed the river. Tywin's unease deepened.

Though the Northern coalition still outnumbered the Southern forces on the northern bank, the gap was narrowing to dangerous levels.

If the Southern forces continued to grow, even the destruction of the floating bridge would not guarantee victory.

"Lord Tywin," spoke Roose Bolton, the Northern lord known for his calculating mind. "Could it be that something has happened to Tormo Fregar and the Braavosi fleet?"

"What could possibly have happened?" retorted Lady Anya Waynwood.

Tywin said nothing.

He had not shared news of the Braavosi unrest with the Northern lords, fearing it might sow doubt or panic.

Logically, the Braavosi fleet—unaware of the unrest—should have already returned to the Blackwater River.

Yet, they were nowhere to be seen.

In the fog of war, uncertainty loomed large.

In the primitive communications of Westeros, military decisions often involved a degree of gambling.

Tywin did not yet know that Euron Greyjoy, the "Crow's Eye," had inexplicably brought the Iron Fleet to Blackwater Bay, drawing the Stormland fleet into conflict.

A skilled commander, however, must rely on intuition—a near-supernatural sense of looming threats—and adjust strategies accordingly.

Although Tywin could not discern the exact cause, he realized that something had likely delayed the Braavosi fleet.

More importantly, he recognized the folly of relying solely on the Braavosi.

It was both foolish and perilous.

With the Southern forces on the northern bank nearing critical numbers, Tywin knew he could wait no longer.

"No more waiting!" Tywin's sharp gaze swept over the Northern lords. "Have the soldiers eat their meals. After midday, we attack."

"Yes, my lord!"

When noon came, the Northern coalition began to mobilize.

The clanking of armor and weapons, the thundering of boots, and the barked orders of officers echoed across the plain.

A faint scent of blood began to drift through the air.

Battle was imminent.

(End of Chapter)