Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire.

Chapter 336: Battle of Storm's End (1)

As dawn approached, Barristan stood at the entrance of the camp, watching the grain carts slowly moving away. Donkeys, oxen and horses were pulling the carts in front. When the road became difficult, the soldiers followed behind and pushed hard. The wheels rolled over the grass, leaving long traces on the ground.

The disassembled catapult parts and siege vehicle parts were also loaded on grain carts and marched into the sunshine.

"Although the food and fodder have been sent ahead, we are too close to Storm's End. It would be very dangerous if the enemy sends out even a few scouts," a general muttered in the barracks. He looked up at Barristan, already thinking about how to escape back to the crown after being defeated.

Some transport officers were also worried. The grain train was not heading towards Storm's End, but towards the hills where the borderlands were retreating. If the enemy led their troops to attack, wouldn't the grain train be destroyed there?
Barristan walked closer, patted the grain bags on the grain cart, secretly calculated the space size of the grain cart in his mind, said to the transport officer, "Let's go," and walked towards the hillside away from the camp.

He stopped at the top of the hill, clapped his hands, and sat down.

The flag of House Selmy was far behind them, waving in the first rays of sunlight at dawn. A strange squeaking sound came from the ground. Looking down, they saw that the soil was loosening. Suddenly, a piece of gravel rolled over, and a furry gopher emerged from the ground with its front paws raised, looking around blankly.

Barristan smiled and reached out to pick it up. "When I went out of the camp alone to rescue the king, I met many of these little guys on the way." His eyes moved slightly, and he rubbed the mole's eyebrows with his thumb. "Silly, they must be a species with no brains. They don't know to stay away even if there are people and troops around them."

A blue cloak fluttered beside him, brushing the ground inadvertently. Harold Hutton rolled up his arms, but still couldn't stop the dust from falling on the surface. The edge of the cloak was slightly darker in color, as if stained by a puddle, and now covered with a layer of mud.

"This guy is causing trouble for the farmers in the valley. He works in the fields all night, and when they wake up the next day, all the fields are in tatters." Harold's voice was deep, and there was a hint of impetuousness in his tone. He had trouble sleeping the whole night, and he was standing here waiting ready before the morning dew rose.

Barristan said nothing, threw the mole aside, opened his eyes and looked towards the camp. The soldiers recruited from the crown and part of the riverlands raised their family flags, and there were many sounds of pots and pans colliding in the camp.

Harold Hutton also fell silent, his hand clenched the hilt of the sword without hesitation. After seeing the weakness of the king's army, no one dared to say that they could definitely defeat the Golden Regiment which was said to have 10,000 full-time soldiers.

Barristan stood up, leaning his sword on the ground, which was three inches deep in the soil. "It is dawn, and you should set off." He lowered his brows, looked at the hole dug by the gophers below him, and whispered to Harold.

Harold nodded and threw his cloak back. The blue seemed to blend into the river and the sea. Rows and rows of blue cloaks worn by the valley's elite fluttered in unison. As the sunlight approached, countless cold lights flashed sharply among the swords and spears. He turned around and looked at the valley soldiers who were standing silently behind him. Harold reached out and stroked the warhorse's mane, and the horse neighed immediately.

He nodded to his guards: "Put down the flags, put away the weapons, travel light and move fast, and set off!"

The fifteen hundred riders immediately received the order, mounted their horses, turned their horses' heads, and marched down the slope.

Barristan sighed and looked at his rough palms. "I'm old after all," he smiled self-deprecatingly, then took the reins handed to him by the servant and jumped on the horse. "Let's go!" he roared, and in a trance he seemed to see the wall of Duskendale again, and he was the young man who climbed over the wall alone to rescue the king.

Only the walls are higher this time, Barristan thought.

The hills are scattered at the end of the Red Mountains. In the map drawn by a scholar collected by the Citadel, they are like pebbles that can be found everywhere on the coast of Stormland, clustered together on the long tail of the giant dragon, the Red Mountains.

The knights of the borderland were very familiar with this. Earl Astan Selmy led his warhorse to the top of the hill and looked down into the valley that was like the bottom of a bowl. His servants used short axes to clear away the thorns and weeds around them. This kind of grass only needed a little sunlight to thrive, and it truly added one of the few green things to this barren land.

The flag of Nightsong City waved on the opposite hill, signaling Astan's troops to go first. Astan Selmy frowned and waved his hand slightly. The servants came closer and he whispered in their ears: "Choose two hundred brothers, follow me down the valley, and change to ponies."

"Pony? Mountain ponies from the Red Mountains? What about us warhorse brothers?" the attendant wondered.

Astan ordered impatiently: "Do it quickly. Lead your own warhorse first and place it at the back of the team. After the two hundred soldiers ride on their ponies, they will gather there." The attendant said no more and turned around to execute the order.

After sending the servants away, Astan covered his chest with his hands, his heart pounding inside. He knew that he would soon fight side by side with the legendary knights of his family, and he must not let his uncle down.

Donald Swan was placed in his formation, and was now looking down from the side.

Astan walked up to him and said, "Come down with us and change to the ponies."

"Fighting?" Donnell asked.

"No," Astan shook his head firmly, "Before we take Stonehelm, you won't have any trouble with me."

"Then ride on the pony." Before he could finish his words, Astan interrupted him and said, "Pony is best at crossing mountains and ridges. We will soon enter the depths of the hills. It will be more convenient for you to ride a horse in the team."

"Ser Barristan's deployment." Donal Swann said hesitantly, with some hesitation in his eyes, "I'm afraid two hundred people are not enough."

"Bryce Cullen and I have discussed this. We will naturally follow Ser Barristan's orders. You provided the intelligence, so I will give you credit. Since you are the heir to Stonehelm, you do not need to participate in the war." Astan patted the hilt of his sword confidently. "Two hundred men have their own way of fighting. As a surprise force, this is enough."

As he was speaking, a "da da da" sound came from the bottom of the valley. Donald looked over and saw that the flags of the Dondarrion family of Black Harbor City were gathered there, and behind a small number of Black Harbor City soldiers was a large group of ponies.

"This is also the reason why Nightsong City can hold the position of commander of the border." Astan said with emotion. He rode on his warhorse, "Hurry up, Donal, follow me down, it's on the gentle slope ahead!"

This group of ponies are war horses raised by Nightsong City. In non-war times, knights seldom go deep into the hills and the Red Mountains. These ponies are rarely used and most of them are rented to merchants as porters. After all, riding a ponies to a tournament or a lord's banquet would be ridiculed.

Donald looked into the distance. Although the valley bottom seemed very close to them, the mountain wall was very straight, so they had to go around it and run several miles forward to get around it. A general who was not familiar with the terrain of the hills might not be able to do it.

The man who was most familiar with the Hills had died in Storm's End. He died with his crown on his head in the castle that belonged to him. Donal Swain sighed in his heart, but it was not a good time to think about it. He squeezed his legs together, and the horse immediately started to move forward, following behind Astan.

They changed into a pony. It was evening and the daylight was already fading. Beric Dondarrion had his eyes slightly closed and a tired look on his face. He had rushed from Stonehelm and continued to lead his troops without a rest for a moment.

Donal looked at Astan's headquarters still on the top of the hill and asked, "Who are these troops?"

But no one seemed to hear him. The soldiers around him were busy feeding grass to the ponies and putting on inappropriate saddles and stirrups. His own servants were also at a loss as to what was being said and just followed their lord to look towards the top of the hill.

Just as he lowered his head in embarrassment because no one responded, Berry's voice rang out.

"Guard the grain cart."

Donald opened his mouth and thought to himself, "That might be a bad thing," but he didn't say it out loud.

(End of this chapter)