Chapter 534: Reinforcements Arrive

Underneath the clear skies, what could possibly sound like thunder? If it wasn't thunder, what then could it be? Varys stood atop the castle walls, leaning on his staff, and couldn't resist glancing back.

The terrain of the Riverlands is flat and expansive. Beyond the gates of Riverrun is an open field stretching far beyond the eye can see, the morning sun casting its glow upon it, causing the grass to sway gently with the breeze.

Yet, at the end of the horizon, that faint thundering grew increasingly ominous.

Rumble, rumble...

It wasn't just Varys. Garlan Lannister, young Jaime, their father, Duke Tywin, and the common soldiers of the Riverlands all sensed the anomaly, turning their heads to look.

"What is that noise?"

The rotund Lord Mace Tyrell had a puzzled look on his face, turning to his eldest son. However, he was met with the grim expression on Varys's face.

"Prepare for battle!"

"Prepare for battle!"

Varys, his face fraught with tension, didn't waste time explaining to his father. Using his staff for support, he approached the edge of the walls and shouted commands to the Tyrell soldiers below.

"Form ranks!"

"Face the rear!"

"Quickly!"

Yet many of the Riverlands soldiers stationed behind were confused upon hearing Varys Tyrell's orders. Their enemies were ahead, so why were they asked to face the rear?

"Haven't we already won this battle?"

"What's happening now?"

Some soldiers, holding their spears, expressed their doubts amidst the misaligned ranks.

"Who knows?" Another shrugged.

The Riverlands, like the Stormlands, had seen years of war, leading to a shortage of trained soldiers. New recruits were hastily added from the abundant Riverlands populace, leading to a decline in overall military quality.

"Form up, now!"

Varys's younger brother, 'Gallant' Garlan Tyrell, quickly grasped the gravity of the situation. He rushed down from the walls, mounted his warhorse, drew his longsword, and bellowed commands.

"Form up!"

"Move! Quickly!"

Riverrun isn't vast. Dornish tents had been pitched outside its gates the previous night. After a battle that spanned the castle's interior and exterior, many Riverlands soldiers remained outside the castle, making it impossible to shut the gates.

They couldn't just leave their brethren outside the walls. It would mean the end of hope for the Riverlands.

"Outside the gates!"

"Form ranks outside!"

"Prepare to meet the enemy!"

"Guard the gates!"

Varys, leaning on the battlements, shouted his commands. The Riverlands soldiers, roused into action, grabbed their weapons, and in disarray, formed ranks outside the gates. But before they could solidify their positions...

Far in the distance, the horizon's thundering grew louder.

Rumble, rumble...

The first galloping horse appeared, then the second, the third... a horde of Dothraki screamers, wearing animal hide armor, charged forth. Under the piercing sun, they brandished their arakhs, reflecting a cold, menacing gleam, as they screamed their war cries.

"Ohhhhh!"

Their chilling howls, like ghosts wailing, echoed throughout the battlefield, accompanied by the overwhelming pressure of their charge.

Many Riverlands soldiers had never seen such a spectacle, swallowing hard in fear.

Atop Riverrun's walls, Lord Mace Tyrell's face paled.

"Is this the barbarian army under Viserys?"

He'd heard of Viserys commanding a Dothraki horde, but to the high lords of the Riverlands, the Dothraki from another continent were but legends.

Beside Lord Mace, Varys stared blankly at the approaching, endless tide of Dothraki cavalry, his mind reeling. Although well-read in strategy, this was an enemy like none he'd ever studied.

No, he had read of them.

Varys recalled a book mentioning the Dothraki, and a shiver ran down his spine. Four hundred years before the War of the Usurper, the Unsullied of Qohor successfully held off Khal Temmo and his 20,000 screamers. After the battle, including Khal Temmo, his sons, all the khals, three bloodriders, and 12,000 Dothraki lay dead.

While he recalled a successful defense against the Dothraki, Varys showed no signs of relief.

"Hold the line!"

"Be brave, lads! Be brave!"

Seeing his usually confident eldest son, Varys, in a daze, Lord Mace Tyrell, though knowing his own limited abilities, stepped up to boost the soldiers' morale.

"Grip your spears tight! There's nothing to fear!"

Lord Mace's mustache quivered as he clenched his fists, sweat forming in his palms.

Although he spoke words of encouragement, deep down, he was terrified. Yet, he couldn't show it in front of his soldiers and children.

Lord Mace's efforts to boost morale did have an effect. Seeing their usually aloof Lord Mace Tyrell in the thick of it with them, the soldiers felt a decrease in their anxiety, gripping their spears tighter.

At that moment, Varys snapped back to reality, seeing his father's resolve. Taking a deep breath, he began shouting orders.

"Hold formation!"

"Raise shields!"

"Spears ready!"

Swish...

Rows of spears pointed out from the gaps in the shields.

Feeling the ground tremble and hearing the approaching hoofbeats, every Riverlands soldier, hidden behind the shield wall, swallowed hard, their hearts racing with the rhythm of the approaching horde.