Chapter 296: The Year 292 AC

Westeros was in turmoil.

Soon, the year 292 AC arrived.

The largest army in the history of the continent of Westeros, a human alliance of sixty thousand strong, arrived at Winterfell.

Upon their arrival, they first suppressed a portion of the wildlings wreaking havoc in the North.

These once rampant wildling tribes faced the formidable southern noble soldiers and suffered a devastating blow.

The iron hooves of the allied forces thundered across the lands of the North. Knights swung their long swords, beheading wildlings and building gruesome spectacles.

The wildling tribes who thought they could find safety in the deep forests realized they had made a grave mistake.

The southern nobles were far wealthier than the northern nobles, and this was evident in the equipment of their soldiers. The southern noble soldiers were almost fully armored, covered in steel from head to toe.

These well-equipped elite soldiers, armed with shields and long swords, pursued the wildlings into the dense forests.

The wildlings' ambushes had little effect on these elite soldiers.

Weak arrows could not pierce the hard shields and armor, but sharp long swords could easily cleave their chests.

Even arrows soaked in oil were shot into the forest, illuminating their tracks.

Countless allied soldiers dipped their arrowheads in oil, then lit them on torches.

With unified command from their officers.

"Fire!"

"Fire!"

Boom, boom, boom...

Arrows aflame shot into the sky, then rained down like a spectacular shower of fire.

Countless wildlings hiding in the forest, ready to ambush, were illuminated by the firelight.

Thud, thud, thud...

A dense rain of fiery arrows fell, the burning arrowheads piercing flesh caused terrifying pain, and when they landed on leaves and branches, a great fire blazed.

The wildlings' end had come.

...

Because the wildling rebellion had gradually escalated, Robert had to make a tough decision to deal with them properly.

'Pacifying the bandits' was not impossible.

'Lord Yellow' had the ability to 'pacify the bandits'.

But what needed to be considered was the cost of 'pacifying the bandits'?

This cost and loss ratio, whether it was worth taking action, was worth considering. The cost of mobilizing the army and the consumption of military pay and food were astronomical.

In fact, many nobles were not incapable of 'pacifying the bandits', but after considering the loss situation, they felt it was not worth it.

But seeing the wildlings causing chaos in the Seven Kingdoms and gradually approaching the Crownlands, Robert was getting a bit anxious.

Robert once thought that sending troops to guard the causeway would be foolproof.

However, he made a mistake, treating the wildling tribes as a regular army.

Wildling tribes are not regular armies, they can even be said to be a mob, different from the enemies Robert had faced before.

Blocking the causeway is a way to deal with regular armies, but there are many small paths in the Neck.

The Crannogmen are extremely familiar with the terrain here, traveling through it on a daily basis.

Travelers can pass through, but armies cannot abandon their heavy wagons and travel through the narrow paths in the marshes and the waterways in the reeds.

Therefore, the causeway is the only route that can ensure the safe passage of a large army.

But the wildling tribes, who have lived in the harsh environment beyond the Wall for years, are different from the 'pampered' southern army.

They are just small teams based on tribal units, and crossing mountains and marshes is a common thing for wildlings.

For these routes that only the Crannogmen are familiar with, the wildlings also suffered and paid a great price to pass through the narrow paths in the marshes and the waterways in the reeds.

Seeing these wildlings spreading like a plague, Robert had no choice but to make a great effort to pacify them, even resorting to setting fire to the mountains.

However, the effects were immediate after Robert's stern measures.

Within a month, the wildlings who had been wreaking havoc in the entire North all disappeared collectively.

Countless heads rolled, of course, these fleeing wildlings were not all killed by Robert, but after killing a batch, the remaining ones became much more low-key and continued to hide, no longer as rampant as before.

After Robert led the sixty thousand human allied forces to make a great effort to pacify the bandits, the next step was to deal with the possible attack of the White Walkers.

Although the Horn of Winter did not completely collapse the Wall, it only collapsed a small section, and there was a gap in the Wall. It was impossible to repair it quickly now.

The construction of the Wall was extremely magnificent, almost beyond human capability.

Robert does not have the ability to call for a national reconstruction of the Wall now, he can only continue to patch it up, hoping it can still have some effect.

The cold winter wind was biting.

A fat man with a black beard held a heavy warhammer, his favorite weapon. This was a heavy two-handed hammer.

He looked at the Ghost Forest shrouded in the morning mist in the distance, silent for a long time.

Robert, who usually loved to drink, had been abstaining from alcohol for the past few days, perhaps feeling an increasing unease in his heart.

He didn't know what the White Walkers were, whether they could be killed with a single hammer blow.

However, he knew that this battle would be his toughest, perhaps even more critical than the Usurper's War.

Although he now ruled the Seven Kingdoms, with far more territory than the remaining Targaryens who had fled overseas, and had a large number of soldiers.

However, the internal strife in the Seven Kingdoms was too deep, causing mutual entanglement, making it difficult to unite and exert their strength.

For some reason, Robert suddenly wanted to meet that young man named Viserys Targaryen.

"Edd."

"We will defeat those damn White Walkers, right?"

Robert suddenly cursed, then turned his head to look at his good brother standing beside him.

Eddard Stark obviously knew Robert's temper well. The man was a loose cannon.

If he wasn't the heir to Storm's End, if Rhaegar hadn't taken his betrothed, he might have been a mercenary traveling the world, living in wine and women every day.

The man with dark brown hair furrowed his brows slightly, then slowly relaxed.

He was the same.

Eddard had an older brother, Brandon Stark, who was later burned alive by the 'Mad King'.

Therefore, Eddard was not originally trained as the heir to Winterfell, which is why he was sent to the Vale as Jon Arryn's ward.

"We will."

Eddard Stark took a deep breath and said.

"Just like before."

In the distant North.

The human allied forces were actively preparing fortifications.

And in Pentos.

Boom, boom, boom...

Another army of tens of thousands arrived at the gates of Pentos on the eve of the New Year.