FVN Chapter 435: The Prince’s Pass Meat Grinder
Chapter 435: The Prince’s Pass Meat Grinder
Chapter 435: The Prince’s Pass Meat Grinder
Dornish Marches
A cavalry force of 3,000 men approached, trampling the grass in their path. The midday sun burned fiercely.
The army slowed and halted at a stream. According to the map, they were at the edge of the Red Mountains, dozens of miles from Nightsong, at the entrance to the Prince's Pass.
"Roar..."
Two dragons, one black and one light blue, landed on the riverbank as soldiers carefully tended to sheep and cattle.
In a tent on the hillside, Rhaegar, dressed in black, met with nobles and lords to discuss strategy. They had to decide how and where to fight. Time was slipping away.
Outside the camp, a raven swooped down. A messenger from Nightsong reported that mercenaries had attacked the stronghold with refugees and were in desperate need of assistance.
Ormund read the letter aloud. "Highgarden has sent 3,000 soldiers to reinforce the garrison, but House Caron still struggles to withstand the attack."
"Decades of peace have left some fortresses in disrepair, and the garrison is understaffed," Donald retorted.
"Thirty thousand refugees will soon besiege Nightsong if the fortress falls."
"The Prince's Pass has many fortresses. If we hurry, we can reach Nightsong before the refugees," another lord added.
The room filled with heated debate. The Prince's Pass, unlike the steep Boneway, was wide and fortified with watchtowers and arrow towers, though insufficient against thousands of refugees. Despite strong fortresses guarded by hundreds of soldiers, lack of supplies made them vulnerable to well-equipped mercenaries.
Ormund, halting the arguments, spoke seriously. "Prince, the refugees are heading to Nightsong en masse. We must leave immediately."
The camp was close enough to offer support. Rhaegar studied the map intently. The Prince's Pass was a direct route, and Nightsong sat on a hill at its entrance. Refugees would break through the strongholds and eventually block the entrance.
Rhaegar formulated a plan. When the enemy arrives, there would be no time for further discussion.
His eyes narrowed. "The cavalry will depart at first light, reaching the pass before sunset to confront the refugees."
"Shouldn't we wait for the rest of the army?" Donald frowned, preferring to wait for the infantry.
Rhaegar glanced at him. "Do you doubt that 3,000 cavalry can handle 30,000 refugees?"
Westerosi cavalry, clad in armor and armed with lances, were formidable. A cavalry charge could scatter ten times their number of regular troops, let alone 30,000 refugees.
Donald conceded, "No problem, Prince."
"Then let’s move before the refugees reach the pass," Rhaegar commanded, exiting the tent.
He aimed to set the battlefield at The Prince's Pass, preventing the refugees from breaching the blockade and escaping into the Reach.
...
The Prince's Pass
Ragged refugees huddled in the shadows of the mountains, seeking respite from the scorching sun. Their numbers were vast, like a dense ant colony.
"Charge!" Ormund shouted, his spirit high as he held aloft his house Valyrian steel sword Vigilance.
The cavalry surged forward, the first row of soldiers grimacing as they leveled their yard-long lances. The road was so narrow that the mercenaries had no choice but to climb the ridge.
A cacophony of collisions and screams ensued.
After the first charge, many mercenaries lay on the ground, speared like locusts.
"Counterattack! Shoot!" The mercenaries quickly regrouped, forming a defensive line with spearmen and shield bearers at the front to protect their archers.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
The mercenaries fired their crossbows in rapid succession, creating a continuous volley of bolts. The heavy armor of the cavalry rendered the arrows ineffective against their iron plates, but the unarmored horses beneath them took hits to the chest, belly, and legs, causing some to fall with their riders.
"Regroup! Charge!" Ormund shouted. Under the protection of their guards, the cavalry charged again. The rear row became the front, lances poised, while the front row, now in the rear, switched to swords.
"Roar!"
A deafening roar echoed between the mountains. A black dragon soared in, its massive body obscuring the road, wings casting a dark shadow over the battlefield. Rhaegar, sitting on the dragon's back, commanded impassively, "Dracarys!"
Cannibal's cruel green eyes narrowed as it leaned forward, opening its blood-red mouth.
Boom!
Dark green Dragonfire cascaded from the sky, spreading over the mercenary ranks like a living mist. The fire clung to them, growing and consuming like maggots on a bone. At first, the mercenaries did not realize the danger, but soon they were reduced to charred corpses.
"Ah! We're on fire!"
"Run! Hide in the arrow tower, the dragon is coming..."
Panic erupted among the mercenaries. Their formation collapsed as they wailed and tried to extinguish the relentless green fire.
Ormund seized the moment, ordering the cavalry to charge, skillfully avoiding the burning mercenaries and targeting the fleeing Dornish soldiers.
"Roar!"
Cannibal roared again, flapping its wings and gliding low, spitting Dragonfire at the mercenaries scrambling on the ridge.
"No! No!" The mercenaries' cries echoed as Dragonfire engulfed their bodies. Trapped between the cavalry on the road and the dragon above, their fate was sealed.
An unprecedented disaster had befallen the invaders.
"Quickly finish the job!" Rhaegar ordered, stopping Ormund from becoming too engrossed in the slaughter.
"Roar!"
At that moment, another dragon's roar filled the air. In the valley behind the road, a huge fire of orange and blue blazed, adding to the chaos.