The Mountain of Ice and Fire

Clack clack clack!

The iron gate slowly closed.

"No!" the Frey cavalry cried, "Don't close the gate!"

On the drawbridge, thump thump, two horses and their riders were pushed off the bridge by their comrades, falling into the rushing moat, sinking and floating a few times before being swept away by the current.

The banks of the drawbridge were submerged in the swollen river, reaching as high as a horse's belly and up to the waists of the infantry.

The cavalry on the drawbridge desperately whipped their horses, trying to rush in before the gate closed.

More cavalry leaped from the shore into the water that had overflowed the banks, vying for the drawbridge.

Several infantrymen who managed to get onto the drawbridge were kicked away by the horses' hooves, falling into the rapids, their armor causing them to sink like stones, disappearing instantly.

"Surrender to the true king, and you will be spared!" Eddard Stark's roar was like thunder.

Northerners were known for their loud voices and straightforwardness!

Among the Northern cavalry, the spearmen and mounted archers had already formed ranks, while the Bolton infantry, with their spearmen, swordsmen, shield bearers, and archers, had also formed ranks, a dark mass of troops advancing forward.

Anyone who stood in their way would be crushed.

Eddard Stark took the lead, as was his custom. His pupils, Robb Stark and Jon Snow, all followed this principle: let the soldiers see you when they look up!—this was Eddard Stark's motto.

Eddard Stark's and Tywin Lannister's methods of combat were completely different: one charged at the forefront, while the other only observed the battlefield from the rear.

Eddard's roar drowned out the rumble of the rushing river. Among the cavalry, the Bolton cavalry were the first to drop their weapons and surrender. As the city gate slowly closed, the Frey cavalry and infantry, with no way out, also surrendered in droves.

Clack clack clack!

The winch turned, and the drawbridge slowly rose. The cavalry on the bridge cried out in alarm, and the horses at the head of the bridge leaped down, falling into the water and splashing up huge sprays.

The cavalry and infantry who had desperately tried to get onto the drawbridge now desperately tried to get off.

Thump thump, cavalry and infantry fell into the water!

The drawbridge rose, the city gate closed, and the Frey cavalry, Frey infantry, Bolton cavalry, and Bolton infantry all dropped their weapons and knelt on one knee…

"When someone challenges you, you should resolutely respond with iron and blood; when they kneel and surrender, you must personally help them up." During the war, Eddard Stark had been constantly teaching Robb Stark, and he did the same himself.

Eddard Stark dismounted and personally helped up several Frey generals who were at the front: "You fought bravely. I know you were just following orders. Be loyal to the true king, generals."

The generals knelt again on one knee, drew their long swords, held them above their heads, and swore allegiance and submission to the Starks of the North.

To subdue surrendered soldiers and inspire loyalty in his subordinates, Eddard Stark used 'force to subdue, then reason to convince'; Robb Stark did the same; the Mountain used both kindness and intimidation; while Tywin only had cold-blooded authority and the fear of slaughter.

During Robb Stark's campaign in the West, the Freys who accompanied the army were all devoted to him: Olyvar Frey, Perwyn Frey, Ser Aenys Frey… these Freys were loyal to Robb. But during the 'Red Wedding,' all the Freys who were loyal to Robb disappeared, imprisoned in the dungeons by Walder Frey, which allowed Robb to no longer doubt his father's plans and arrangements after entering the hall for the first time.

To subdue surrendered soldiers and inspire loyalty in his subordinates was a skill, a necessary skill for famous generals. Eddard Stark deeply influenced at least two young heroes: Robb Stark and Jon Snow.

Afterward, Eddard Stark helped up several Bolton generals, promising to only pursue the main culprits and spare them the death penalty for their betrayal. But although the death penalty was waived, they would not escape punishment; they would need to atone for their sins with military merits!

At this point, three hundred Frey cavalry, more than a thousand Frey infantry, Bolton cavalry, and Bolton infantry on the shore all surrendered!

In the west city, the battles in the main castle hall, towers, streets, and alleys had all ended.

With Roslin Frey's help, Robb Stark released Olyvar Frey, Perwyn Frey, Ser Aenys Frey, and other direct descendants of the Frey family who were loyal to him, as well as seventeen Frey knights who firmly opposed the 'Red Wedding.'

Robb and Roslin Frey rode side by side, surrounded by the Frey generals and knights, a total of twenty-two, who had followed him since the Riverlands. Brynden "Blackfish" Tully led five hundred Riverlands heavy cavalry to cover the rear. The group came to the Weeping Tower in the middle of the Stone Bridge.

Roslin Frey ordered the guards of the Weeping Tower to surrender and open the city gate. The group passed through the Weeping Tower, and Roslin ordered the west gate of the east city to open, and the Freys in the east city surrendered.

Olyvar Frey rode quickly through the east city, came to the east gate, and ordered the guards to open the iron gate and raise the drawbridge, respectfully welcoming Duke Eddard Stark into the city.

At this point, all the remaining Freys in the east and west cities of the Twins had surrendered!

*

On the Gold Road, where the Crownlands bordered the Westerlands, the Clegane army was camped for rest.

Snap!

A pebble was thrown into the clear stream, splashing water all over a woman who was washing a tent cloak by the stream.

The woman stood up and wiped the water from her face with the sleeve of her rough cloth clothes.

Across the stream, a tall, fierce knight stared at the fair-skinned, attractive commoner woman.

Not far away, two soldiers responsible for logistics patrol and security had their hands on their sword hilts, their faces angry, but they did not move.

That fierce knight was the famous Sandor "The Hound" Clegane. The two soldiers knew they were no match for him, but the Clegane army had strict discipline: even camp prostitutes were not to be molested, humiliated, abused, or raped by any soldier or officer, let alone the logistics women in the army.

There were many logistics women in the army: sharpening swords, repairing tents, washing clothes, cooking, making arrow shafts, repairing armor, feeding and raising horses, taking care of the oxen and mules pulling carts… these jobs could all be done by women.

"What's your name?" The Hound stepped across the stream and came to the woman's side.

The woman lowered her head: "My name is Sansa, my lord!"

"Sansa? What's your last name?"

"I don't have a last name, my lord!"

"Let me see your hands."

Sansa hid her hands behind her.

The Hound reached out and grabbed Sansa's hands, opening them. Sansa's hands were peeling, calloused, and rough, with dirt under her fingernails, but above her wrists, they were still as white as jade.

"You look very familiar, Sansa!"

"I don't recognize you, my lord!"

"Oh? Where is your home?"

"My home is in the south, my lord."

"The south? Why do I hear a Northern accent in your voice?"

"You jest, my lord. I am a Southerner."

Sansa's face did not change as she squatted down and continued to scrub a knight's cloak.

The Hound stepped on the cloak: "Sansa, I need a servant girl. Come pour me wine."

"I'm sorry, my lord. If you need a servant girl, please ask our officer to assign one."

The Hound sneered, reached out and grabbed Sansa around the waist, and just as he turned around, two soldiers blocked his path with their hands on their sword hilts.

"My lord, please put her down. Sansa is not a camp prostitute," one of the soldiers shouted.

Clegane soldiers were all very temperamental. Although they were afraid, the Hound was breaking the law, so they were justified.

"My lord, even if Sansa is a camp prostitute, you have to pay the camp prostitute officer first and get permission before you can take her away," the other soldier said coldly.

"Get out of the way!" The Hound stared down at the two soldiers who were a head shorter than him. Although he was in the Clegane army, he had no unit, no legion, no position. He was just a free warrior, with no superiors and no subordinates.

"My lord, you must put her down!" If it had been anyone else, the two soldiers would have already drawn their long swords.

Logistics soldiers were not so easy to mess with either. No one wanted to do logistics; everyone wanted to be a frontline soldier, charging ahead, showing off; either die in battle or come back from a victory to drink and brag, with military merits and awards, gambling and prostitutes, indulging in pleasure. In any case, it was more impressive than doing logistics.

Quartermaster Ben, who deeply hated being an administrative officer, influenced his subordinates. The resentment of the logistics soldiers grew, leading to the situation in the siege of King's Landing where Ben and the enforcers Rolger and Sharp led the enforcers and logistics soldiers to the front line: they took the Dragonpit on Rhaenys's Hill, earning first-class military merits.

The logistics soldiers, who had just finished the siege of King's Landing and earned military merits not long ago, had not yet calmed down from the glory of their military merits. From officers to soldiers, they had been very arrogant since the war!

It was just that their arrogance was nothing in front of the Hound.

Sansa, who was being held around the waist, kicked and punched the Hound with all her might. The Hound's body was cast from rock and steel. Sansa's little fists hitting the Hound's body were neither painful nor itchy, completely unfelt, except for leaving painful memories for Sansa's own hands and feet, causing no other harm to the Hound.

The Hound reached out and pushed one of the soldiers down, and walked away with Sansa in his arms.

Clang!

The other soldier drew his long sword and pointed it at the Hound's back: "My lord, put her down."

In the distance, a military whistle sounded. A squad leader saw the fight and was furious, but he did not dare to challenge the Hound alone, so he blew the military whistle.

The military whistle alarmed the centurion, who rode over with a team of fierce Clegane logistics soldiers. These soldiers, although logistics soldiers, were all bandits. This was the traditional temperament of the Clegane army: martial spirit, courage, and fighting were their basic qualities.

The Hound ignored the surrounding situation. He turned around and looked at the tip of the sword against his chest: "Soldier, put away your sword." His face, half burned by fire, his eyes, his tone, and his expression were all frightening.

The soldier flinched, but he heard his comrades running over.

"My lord, put Sansa down first. This is not in accordance with the rules."

"To hell with the rules." The Hound turned around and walked away. The soldier hesitated for a moment: should he stab or not?

He remembered what Quartermaster Ben had said: "Logistics soldiers are the most awesome soldiers. Without approval, any general who comes to collect supplies will not be given them. Anyone who dares to use force, hit them first, and you must win. I will take responsibility if anything happens."

The soldier's long sword stabbed over!

The Hound had chainmail inside his clothes. Like the Mountain, he would wear armor and plate armor when charging into battle, and chainmail normally. Plate armor was too heavy, so he would not wear it normally.

Just as the force on the tip of the sword touched the chainmail, the Hound moved, sidestepping, and the long sword stabbed past, tearing open the Hound's coat. It was clear that it could not be worn anymore.

The Hound had Sansa in his left arm, and his right hand was empty. He stepped forward, reached out, grabbed the helmet from the soldier's head, and slammed it hard on the soldier's head. With a bang, the soldier's eyes saw stars, his legs went weak, the whole world was shaking, and he fell to the ground with a crash, like a broken log.

The other soldier, who had been pushed down by the Hound, had already gotten up and drawn his long sword, but he did not dare to stop the violent Hound. The Hound's push felt like a small mountain had hit his chest. Even after getting up, his breathing was still not smooth, as if something was still collapsing on his chest.

The Hound threw the helmet on the ground, looked at the coat that had been almost cut into two pieces by the sharp blade, and spat: "To hell with you! Scum!"

Sansa was still struggling desperately. The Hound cursed: "Stop it, miss. Don't you want to go home?"

The sound of hooves rang out. The centurion arrived, holding a long spear in his hand. Behind him were the hungry and fierce logistics soldiers, each looking at the Hound as if he were their enemy.

A woman in logistics who washed tents and cloaks for the knights was not important, but the Hound's behavior of not taking the logistics soldiers seriously was very important.

He wantonly trampled on the dignity of the logistics soldiers!

"My lord, put her down," the centurion shouted.

"Get out!" The Hound spat again in disdain.

The centurion was a young man, but clearly a ruthless character: "My lord, I don't care what your relationship is with Lord Mountain, you have violated military orders, and I now have the right to demand that you put this woman down."

"She is my servant girl."

"Let me see your waist badge, my lord."

"I don't have a waist badge."

"Brothers, form ranks," the centurion roared.

"Ho!" A hundred soldiers immediately formed ranks, leveling their spears, the spear tips aimed at the Hound.

"Hound!" The centurion no longer called him "my lord." "If you don't put her down, I have the right to order you to be killed."

The Hound really did not expect a mere logistics centurion to be so tough. When he was in the royal palace, any centurion knight or knight was trampled on at will. King Joffrey would also restrain himself in front of him and would not order him to do things that would damage the honor of a warrior: such as bullying women and the elderly.

The Hound slowly put Sansa down.

He was not afraid of the centurion's threat; he was afraid of hurting Sansa.

These soldiers naturally did not know that Sansa's last name was Stark.

The Hound had no intention of staying with the Mountain anymore. Every time he saw the Mountain, he could not help but think of the deaths of his father and sister, but now that he wanted to kill the Mountain, he found that he had changed, and he could not do it.

The Hound decided to leave the Mountain and leave the Clegane army, so that he would never have to see the Mountain's face again. The royal palace could not be returned to, and returning to the Westerlands was meaningless. The world was so big that the Hound did not know where he should go, but he knew one thing: he needed money!

No matter where he wanted to go or what he wanted to do, the Hound needed money. But he had no money, which was a problem.

The Mountain had money, as if he could conjure money out of thin air. No one knew where the Mountain's money came from, but there were always golden dragons coming out of his military affairs office.

The Hound could get money from the Mountain just by asking, but he would never ask. The Mountain would often instruct the quartermaster to give the Hound extra pay, but he never took a single copper.

Having decided to leave the Mountain and the Clegane men, the Hound discovered Sansa Stark hidden among the army's logistics personnel. He decided to take Sansa with him to the North, to exchange her for a large sum of money.

He needed money!

The Hound set Sansa down, and the centurion secretly breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, my lord," he said, the address changing back from 'Hound' to 'lord'. "Woman, hurry and get out of here."

Sansa scurried away!

"Present arms!" the centurion commanded.

The soldiers snapped their spears to attention, their military bearing disciplined and impressive.

In his heart, the Hound had to admire the Mountain. Even the logistics troops were so well-managed, comparable to the Lannister regular army. No wonder the storming of the city had been such a disaster for the Lannister forces, leaving them with less than ten thousand men out of sixteen thousand. After the war, soldiers from the Westerlands deserted every day, and there was no way to stop them.

The Hound stared at the centurion, too lazy to ask his name. He strode towards him. The centurion's spear flashed out, pointing at him. "My lord, I was only following orders just now. Please allow me to apologize to you."

The Hound wasn't interested in such nonsense. He reached out and grabbed the spear, pulling it with force, dragging the centurion off his horse. The centurion fell to the ground, dazed. Before he could get up, the Hound was upon him, kicking him in the head. The centurion passed out.

Whoosh!

The spearhead grazed the centurion's head, burying itself deep in the dirt. The Hound glanced at the soldiers, their faces pale. "Next time you see me, stay away!"

The soldiers held their spears upright, points to the sky, not a single one moved. The centurion was brave and powerful, not at all inferior to the front-line generals, yet in front of the Hound, he was so vulnerable!

The soldiers exchanged glances, shocked!

They watched helplessly as the Hound strode away!

*

ps: An extra chapter for the support from the fans will be released this afternoon.

Thanks to [Fatty also wants to be in love] [、灬I am a hoodlum] for the support, thank you, handshake!