Meanwhile, at Antlers in the northern part of The Crownlands.
The castle was as silent as a grave.
The original Thorne family had vanished long ago when the Ash Company swept through The Crownlands.
The militia temporarily in charge had no intention of resisting. When Jaime Lannister and Addam Marbrand arrived at the gates with an army of twenty thousand from the Westerlands, the gates opened without a single blow being struck.
Inside the council chamber, the torchlight flickered, and the air smelled of dust and old wood.
Jaime stood before a long table, upon which lay a worn parchment map.
His fingertip pressed against the location of Antlers, then slowly traced eastward... past Hayford, Rosby, and finally stopped at the heavily marked point: Starkworth Castle.
Twenty thousand men.
This was his entire force, and the only capital he had to save them.
He hadn't expected that among these twenty thousand, a full eight thousand were cavalry.
The finest heavy cavalry of the Westerlands, with both men and horses clad in the best armor, were daggers capable of tearing through any battle line.
It was this very cavalry that sparked a thought in his mind—an extremely risky one, yet perhaps the only chance.
"We shall replicate the battle of the Whispering Wood."
Jaime raised his head, looking at Addam across the table.
The firelight illuminated his clean-shaven jaw, the lines hard and cold, his eyes filled with a desperate resolve to break through everything.
"Robb Stark used this tactic to crush me at Riverrun. Now, I shall use the same method to meet that returned true dragon."
Addam leaned forward, hands resting on the edge of the table, his gaze following Jaime's finger as it moved across the map, his brow slowly furrowing: "What exactly is the plan?"
"You will take twelve thousand infantry, set out from Antlers, and march eastward along the Kingsroad with great fanfare."
Jaime's fingertip tapped heavily on the thick line representing the Kingsroad, "First attack Hayford, then threaten Rosby."
"The more noise you make, the better. Make Aegon Targaryen in King's Landing believe that our Westerlands army's goal is to retake The Crownlands, or even launch a direct assault on King's Landing."
"Make him focus his main force and his attention on you."
Addam's heart sank, and he immediately understood the other half: "And what about you?"
"I will take eight thousand cavalry and avoid the main road."
Jaime's finger traced an arc from Antlers to the west, skirting toward the direction of Sow's Horn, then turning eastward, pointing toward Starkworth Castle.
"We will take a detour from Antlers, sticking to secluded paths and marching in secret. When the Targaryen army is fully engaged in the siege of Starkworth Castle and their defenses are at their loosest, we will launch a surprise attack, break through their besieging forces, and rescue them."
As his voice fell, the council chamber fell silent for a moment, save for the crackling of the torches.
Addam's expression darkened completely.
He stared at the besieged castle on the map, then looked at another stronghold nearby marked with the symbol for heavy troops... Duskendale.
"It's too risky, Jaime."
Addam's voice was very low, carrying undeniable concern.
"According to our intelligence, Duskendale was captured by Aegon before he attacked King's Landing. It is now his major garrison, well-supplied with troops."
"Starkworth Castle and Duskendale are mere steps away. Once your cavalry is discovered, caught between the garrison at Duskendale and the enemy forces besieging the castle, those eight thousand heavy cavalry will be like sheep in a wolf pack; not one of them will make it out."
Jaime pursed his lips.
He knew all too well how dangerous this was.
On one side was the heavily guarded Duskendale, on the other the numerically superior besieging army.
His cavalry was like a dagger thrust out; easy to stab in, but hard to pull out.
A single mistake, and the blade would break, and the men would die.
But Cersei's face and Myrcella's terrified eyes haunted his mind.
The heart-wrenching feeling made him suppress all his hesitation.
"I will be extra careful, avoiding the eyes and ears of Duskendale, and march day and night," Jaime nodded, his expression grave. "Before they can react, we will strike and leave."
He turned his head, fixing Addam with a sharp gaze, and said, word for word: "But remember this clearly: we are not here to occupy territory. We are here only to save them."
"Your task is to attract attention, a feigned attack; you must not get bogged down. When you advance, you must already have your retreat planned."
He paused, his tone deepening: "Once I have rescued them, I will immediately send a fast rider to inform you. Upon receiving the signal, both our armies will retreat simultaneously; we cannot stop for a moment."
"We will coordinate with each other; if one side is in trouble, the other can provide support. Do not be greedy for glory, and do not concern yourself with those castles; that is not our objective."
Addam took a deep breath. The tension in his chest did not dissipate, but he knew Jaime's mind was made up.
He nodded solemnly: "I understand. I will keep my men in check, focusing only on diversion, not engaging in a death struggle, and wait for your signal."
The plan was set; there was no more time for delay.
The two walked side by side out of the stifling council chamber.
The cold night air rushed to meet them, carrying the scent of earth and the distant wilderness.
On the open ground outside the castle, the twenty-thousand-strong Westerlands army had already finished forming up.
The torchlight reflected off the dense forest of armor and spears, casting a cold, metallic sheen.
Warhorses occasionally snorted, their hooves pawing lightly at the ground, and the banners of the roaring lion snapped in the night wind.
"Advance."
At Addam's command, the twelve thousand infantry began to move.
Heavy footsteps shook the ground, banners unfurled at the front of the column, snapping in the wind as they marched eastward along the Kingsroad, intentionally creating a massive commotion as if the entire main force were descending upon King's Landing.
Jaime vaulted onto his horse and gripped the hilt of the longsword at his waist.
He took one last look at the long, receding dragon of torches following Addam, then turned his horse to face the eight thousand heavy cavalry following him.
There was no pre-battle speech, no unnecessary words.
He simply drew his sword and pointed it toward the deep night in the direction of Sow's Horn.
"Follow me."
The order was brief.
The eight thousand Westerlands heavy cavalry moved in unison, mounting their horses, lances raised like a forest, their armor plates clashing with a cold, subtle chime.
Then, the torrent began to move, following the white horse ahead and its commander, leaving the main road, disappearing into the dark, rugged paths, galloping toward the east, toward that blood-soaked, isolated city.
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn luffy1898