Ice and Fire: Conquering the World Starting from the Wall

As another night fell, Lynn discovered that the Southern army was far more vulnerable than he had imagined.

Their cavalry were hampered in the woods, their heavy armor made them cumbersome, and their longbowmen were better suited to volley fire in formation than to open field battles.

But once night falls, the Night Stalkers will show them what fear truly is.

For two whole days and two nights, warriors from various tribes risked encountering the White Walkers, keeping the king's army bogged down along the banks of the Greystone River, slowly consuming their lives with arrows and traps.

The savages caused less than a hundred direct casualties, but their impact on morale was astonishing.

Stannis's men had marched in relatively orderly ranks a day ago, but by this evening, their formation had completely collapsed.

The soldiers, exhausted, set up camp on a relatively open riverbank, cutting down trees on both sides. The elusive harassment and ambushes by the savages kept them constantly on edge.

The most terrifying thing was that rumors were spreading among the soldiers that the fleet anchored at Hardship Village had been burned by the savages, and that they had lost their supplies and escape route.

There is strong evidence to support this rumor: during the day, the ravens accompanying the army were released one after another, but unfortunately they all died from the arrows of the savages or were intercepted by the dragons. Not a single one was able to fly away.

The soldiers weren't stupid. If the king wasn't worried about the fleet, he wouldn't have kept sending out ravens knowing they would be intercepted.

The fact that the savages were desperately trying to stop them undoubtedly indicated that they were indeed going to take action.

"Stannis never expected us to dare to pursue and relentlessly attack... Choosing to enter the Ghost Forest was a fatal mistake."

Lynn rode on the back of a tall mammoth, peering through the bloodshot eyes of the Southern army camp.

Stannis's soldiers had to clear more woods and bushes to avoid being shot through the throat by Nightwalker archers at night, which meant a greater workload and more supplies.

"The Southerners thought a single battle could crush the morale of the free people."

"Hunter" Harley craned his neck and echoed.

"They're dreaming! In the forest, we are the hunters."

Harley was one of the few raiders who did not participate in the Cryers' attack on the Shadow Tower, so his men suffered no losses.

At this time, he was serving as Lynn's advisor and deputy, participating in the planning of harassment and delay operations against the enemy.

His nickname alone suggests that he is a skilled hunter who stealthily moves through the forest.

"But our casualties are three times that of the enemy. Send your men to restrain the hard-footed people—they are too radical."

A wild beast stuck in the mud is still a wild beast; it shouldn't be provoked.

Lynn said to Harley.

Harley shrugged and replied:

"Too many of the Hardfoot people had died before, and the Iron Cans on horseback had almost trampled their camp to the ground."

Those barefoot dwarfs are never ones to suffer a loss, especially when they get the chance.

The Nightwalker tribe was nearly wiped out several times back then, so I'm not confident I can persuade them otherwise.

Harley paused for a moment and continued:

"If you ask me, let them be. The dwarves reproduce like rabbits anyway; they'll have several more litters in just a few years..."

He was speaking when he suddenly noticed that the Star Child was looking down at him sideways, so he quickly shut up.

In that battle beneath the Great Wall, if the dragon hadn't used two bursts of dragonfire to disperse the cavalry and gather the free warriors together, they probably wouldn't have been able to pursue them now; at least half of them would likely have perished under the iron hooves and the chaos they brought.

If Lynn was once hailed as a savior by the free people, some of those sentiments were merely superficial.

So now, Lynn is practically synonymous with God to the free people, or at least God's spokesperson.

"Just say it's my idea."

Lynn said calmly, and Harley dared not say another word and obediently went to relay the order.

Lynn turned his gaze back toward Stannis's army camp, where dense bonfires had been lit, illuminating almost half the sky.

He was in a very conflicted state of mind at that moment.

Lynn led three or four thousand Free Folk warriors to surround and intercept Stannis in order to buy time for Tormund and the Frozen Coast people.

Logically speaking, the two days they had held them off should have been enough for Tormund to reach Hardytown. Regardless of whether their plan to seize or destroy the ship succeeded, retreating now was the best option.

But the performance of these Southern troops gave Lynn the feeling that if they continued to struggle for a few more days, they might collapse on their own.

If something goes wrong on Tormund's side, he can simply eliminate the people in the vast, boundless forests of the frontier.

Thinking of this, Lynn felt a little restless, and the image of the tough-footed child who had been impaled on the tip of a cavalryman's spear appeared in his mind again.

At this moment, Bloodshed flew back with a biting cold wind, a black, blood-stained raven feather still stuck to the corner of its beak.

It looked somewhat tired; even magical creatures would find it difficult to withstand continuous high-intensity cruising.

It seems that we probably won't be able to defend against the enemy's ravens tonight. With the limited manpower of the Night Watch Division, it's impossible to monitor both the ground and the sky at the same time.

Of course, this is on the premise that Stannis still has Raven.

In any case, it's unrealistic to expect savages to fight professional soldiers equipped with steel armor head-on. Even if they were to fight, they would have to wait until the other side was on its last breath.

Having figured this out, Lynn stopped worrying. He slid down the thick hemp rope binding the saddle to the ground and then crawled into the small tent he had set up to catch up on sleep.

Although the free people were numerous enough to work in shifts to carry out surveillance and harassment, their problem was that they dared not light fires, in order to prevent the enemy from pinpointing their location and launching a surprise attack. Therefore, they did not have an easy two nights.

Lynn was alright, as she had a warm spacesuit.

Others had to rely on their fur and the body heat of their companions to withstand the cold, and many lost their toes and ears to the cold.

Some did freeze to death at night, but driven by hatred, not a single person asked to retreat.

Those who froze to death continued to play a role; Lynn used the observation of whether the corpses mutated into wights to determine if there were any Others nearby.

Based on previous speculations, people who don't die directly at the hands of White Walkers and wights will only mutate if they get close enough to the White Walkers.

This method may not be correct, but it's better than nothing.

At dawn the next day, Lynn was awakened by a noisy shouting.

He hurriedly climbed out of the tent and heard the sound of rapid hoofbeats coming from afar, while the freemen around him rushed in a chaotic manner toward the sound.

For a moment, Lynn thought Stannis had gone mad, launching a desperate charge against the limitations of the dense forest on cavalry.

But he soon realized that the sound of horses' hooves was fading away in the direction of the lower reaches of the Greystone River.

What's going on?

Did the king abandon his infantry and longbowmen and flee with only his cavalry?

Lynn grabbed a hard-footed civilian who was running past him and demanded to know what had happened.

The other person was startled, and Lynn didn't realize she was a woman until she spoke.

"I have no idea!"

"Hard-footed woman answered crisply."

Lynn was speechless. Expecting the savages to report to him beforehand was wishful thinking.