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Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
The seven hundred archers stationed across Moat Cailin's three towers only had enough time to loose three volleys, causing more than three hundred ironborn casualties, before the enemy reached the towers.
Once the ironborn pressed close beneath the towers, only the first two rows of archers could take turns shooting down from the edges. The archers behind them had completely lost the angle for arcing shots.
Fortunately, someone was commanding them.
"Sound the horn. Follow the plan."
On the Gatehouse Tower, Trogg, Winterfell's supply commander, glanced at the ironborn who had already drawn very close to the tower and gave the order to the messenger beside him.
Awooo! Awooo!
The archers on all three towers heard their side's horn signal. Those without a shooting angle immediately threw down their bows and ran toward the bottom of the towers.
The lower sections of the towers had been repaired by Winterfell's supply troops. Collapsed gaps and holes had all been reinforced with thick timber, and the front gates had also been replaced with new, sturdy wooden doors.
But the reinforcing timbers were covered with round holes about the size of a child's fist.
When the archers reached the lower level, they drew iron-headed spears from the nearby weapon racks, aimed them at those fist-sized holes, and waited with held breath.
A dull impact sounded outside the Gatehouse Tower. The spearmen inside, who had successfully changed roles, knew the enemy had arrived.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Outside the tower, many ironborn slipped and fell in disorder. The ground here was not only covered in slick moss, but also in many frozen sheets of black ice.
Trogg had ordered his soldiers to pour a large amount of cold water in front of the tower in advance. Under the northern cold, it had frozen into black ice that hindered the ironborn.
This was also a small trick Trogg had come up with to delay them as long as possible.
To let those ironborn scouts see the truth and lure cunning King Balon into the trap, there were no hidden troops around Moat Cailin.
There truly were only these seven hundred Winterfell soldiers. They had to hold until reinforcements arrived.
Victarion, wearing heavy armor and moving more slowly, arrived before the Gatehouse Tower and immediately saw the ironborn who had fallen and could not get back up.
He studied the ground, raised the huge axe in his hand, and chopped down into it.
Crack!
The black ice on the ground shattered and scattered at once. He shouted to the ironborn around him:
"Break all the ice on the ground!"
Hearing the order, the ironborn immediately used the weapons in their hands to hammer noisily at the ground before the tower.
In only a few minutes, they had broken apart all the black ice and reached the tower door.
An excited ironborn running at the front looked at the round holes in the wooden door with curiosity and leaned his head forward to inspect them.
"Thrust!"
Trogg, who had come to the bottom of the Gatehouse Tower, saw the approaching ironborn through one of the holes and shouted at once.
Pchh!
Dozens of iron-headed spears suddenly stabbed fiercely out through those holes.
The overly curious ironborn had one eye burst by a spear in an instant, the entire spearhead driving into his skull.
The ironborn killed by his curiosity did not fall to the ground. Instead, his body hung limply from that spear.
"Withdraw!"
At Trogg's command, the spear formation that had killed at least a dozen ironborn with its surprise attack slowly drew back through the holes.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The bodies hanging from the spears fell one after another when the shafts were pulled back. Large amounts of blood slowly seeped out beneath them.
"Hmph. Only greenlander cowards like playing these little tricks.
Brothers, those with axes, break open this pile of wood with me. Those carrying bows, watch for the right chance and shoot hard through the holes. Charge!"
Victarion curled his lip in disdain at the Gatehouse Tower's tricks. After loudly giving his orders, he was the first to throw himself at the thick wooden door.
Crack!
The tower door, bristling like a porcupine, stabbed out dozens of spears again. Victarion, who was prepared this time, gripped his axe with both hands until the veins stood out, then chopped down violently.
Several spear shafts struck by his huge axe were instantly split in two, and their iron heads fell to the ground.
After chopping away the spearheads before him, Victarion raised the huge axe with both hands again and brought it heavily down on the thick wooden door.
When he lifted the axe again, splinters flew everywhere, and a deep, long gash had appeared in the sturdy door.
More than a dozen ironborn who had followed Victarion forward were not as quick to dodge. Some had bloody holes opened in their bodies by spears stabbing from the round openings.
Others, like Victarion, hacked away the spearheads, then chopped furiously at the thick wooden door beneath the tower with the axes in their hands.
For a time, wood chips flew in every direction, and the Gatehouse Tower's door was slowly being chopped open by the ironborn.
Inside the tower, Trogg commanded the spearmen whose spearheads had been cut off to hurriedly replace their weapons. But the ironborn archers outside seized the opportunity and shot through the round holes in the thick door.
Whoosh, whoosh!
Though many arrows were blocked outside, two or three always managed to pass through the holes and fly into the tower, striking the spearmen within.
One spearman was shot straight through the head and fell rigidly. Two more were struck in the body and collapsed to the ground, screaming.
"Healers, get them out. Everyone else, fill the gaps."
Seeing a hole open in the tower's spear formation, Trogg immediately ordered men to save the wounded and refill the line.
At the bottom of the tower, in a safer position near the stairs, two healers wearing linen headscarves were waiting.
Hearing the command, they immediately bent low and moved forward, dragging the two spearmen hit by arrows back to safety. Then they opened the wooden treatment chests they carried with them.
They cut open the wounds with small knives that had been sterilized in advance, removed the bloody arrowheads, and applied Myrish salve.
Crack. Crack.
Outside the tower, the sounds of axes chopping wood and ironborn screaming after being stabbed by spears rang out without pause.
As time passed, however, the spearmen inside the tower grew increasingly tense. They could clearly feel that the thick wooden door was about to be breached.
Although the archers were physically stronger than ordinary soldiers, once they lost their barrier, they plainly would not be a match for these ironborn, who outnumbered them several times over and whose morale had risen to its peak.
Looking at the grim situation, Trogg's brows drew tightly together. If the gate defense was broken, he could only use the last move King Robb had left behind, but even that would not delay the enemy for very long.
Messages in this world could not move instantly, so even reinforcements that had been prepared ahead of time could not arrive at the perfect moment.
The situation at Moat Cailin's three towers was much the same. Because the terrain to the north was unlike the muddy swamps to the south, all three towers were now surrounded by ironborn with soaring morale.
The archers atop the three towers could no longer draw their bows and shoot downward freely.
The numerous ironborn archers had already begun shooting upward from below. As the distance between the two sides narrowed, their arrows had gained deadly force and were pinning the tower archers down.
Judging by the current situation, it would not be long before Moat Cailin's three towers were breached.
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