stonecrandall Chapter 113 Taking Advantage of the Enemy's Tire
Chapter 113 Taking Advantage of the Enemy's Tire
Chapter 113 Taking Advantage of the Enemy's Tire
When facing a formidable enemy, the worst thing you can do is look around and hesitate.
The Reach soldiers, who were initially dominating the Valeers, began to hesitate after Joffrey's sudden appearance.
Renly even managed to pull three teams out of the fierce battle on the riverbank, turn them around, and form a horizontal line to block Joffrey's only way to the battlefield.
After all, this dark mass of people was indeed a threat that could not be ignored.
Joffrey was in no hurry to provide assistance.
It's not because the people of the valley don't care about fate.
It wasn't because he lacked Thranduil's skill; he rode a white deer without a saddle for a while to demoralize the troops, which hurt his backside.
The real reason was that his men were exhausted, and King Joffrey, who loved his soldiers dearly, needed to give them a break.
To arrive by dawn, the King's Landing commando team ran all night in full gear, leaving all their auxiliary equipment behind.
At this moment, all of these people were trembling, their vision was going black, and they were sweating profusely.
With monetary rewards and the punishment of beatings, even if someone couldn't walk anymore, the soldiers in the same team would drag him over.
But you think you can really rest when I tell you to?
Upon hearing the order, some people immediately sat down on the ground, or even lay down.
The hunting dogs led the men on patrol, kicking them one by one.
"Stand up, all of you." His voice sounded like he'd swallowed a mouthful of sand. "Anyone who dares to lie down and sleep, I'll make sure they never get up again!"
Officers at all levels followed suit, forcing soldiers to walk slowly in place or bend over and pat their calves.
Explaining the complexities of blood circulation to them is useless; no one will listen unless you use some tricks.
So the soldiers, while cursing and swearing, were forced to move around under pressure.
Willpower cannot replace the body.
Even under the fear of death, one can still feel dizzy after pushing beyond their limits.
The citizens of King's Landing were far less hardworking than the peasant soldiers, but they had the advantage of good physical fitness, and none of them died on the road.
Joffrey fed them for several months, providing them with plenty of bread, salted meat and blood sausage in rotation stewed with barley soup, and occasionally even boiled eggs.
They were all picked up from the fields in the river bend; things nobody wanted.
So while these people weren't exactly fat and strong, they weren't skinny either.
Moreover, in addition to dry rations, Joffrey also managed to squeeze some things out of the supplies and give them to them before setting off.
At this moment, those who hadn't stolen the cheese along the way pulled out a hard, solid piece of cheese from some strange corner of their bodies.
The group members gathered together, sharing a bag of light beer, while the battle raging in the distance continued.
They marveled at it.
"These men are really working hard."
In the era of cold weapons, the killing efficiency was actually very low.
Most of the soldiers' deaths did not occur in direct combat, but rather during pursuit after one side had collapsed.
What truly determines victory or defeat is often which side can first deploy its knights to break through the enemy's unarmored infantry and trigger a chain reaction of collapse.
But after looking at it for a while, Joffrey discovered a problem.
For some reason, the commanders on both sides were so reckless as to bring their elite heavy cavalry into a head-on confrontation.
Logically speaking, unless forced, men are unwilling to suffer even the slightest injury.
Even when facing each other, they won't perish together; their instinct will still be to avoid each other.
If one out of a hundred men manages to hit the other, that's already a good result, and most of the time they'll just knock the man off his horse.
The only ones who can actually pierce through steel plates and penetrate the body, aside from those with exceptional talent, are those whose opponent's armor is of very poor quality.
Even if it falls off its horse and lands on the ground, it'll still be a big lump of iron.
Only in the North, where poverty meant that cavalrymen mostly wore chainmail.
In addition, they worship the Old Gods and have no chivalric tradition; only a few, such as Ser Roderick of Winterfell, were knighted in the south.
Most nobles here wouldn't specifically acquire a set of plate armor for this purpose; at most, they would add some reinforcements to vital areas.
But in the South, especially in regions with a strong chivalric culture like the Reach and Valley, knights were everywhere and squires were as plentiful as dogs.
Their equipment was more important than their faces.
Whether by stealing, robbing, or passing on a secret, or even by borrowing money, as long as one can save up enough for a set, there is a chance to fabricate that one is a knight from some place.
Therefore, these two locations can indeed field cavalry units with more than half of their units in plate armor.
And so, at this very moment, a spectacle rarely seen in a century unfolded before everyone's eyes.
Nearly ten thousand knights disregarded all dignity, rolling and wrestling in the mud, their eyes bloodshot, desperately trying to kill each other.
The calmest were actually the infantry, who were mostly civilians.
They crouched behind their shields, cautiously inching forward, searching the perimeter for lone, distracted knights. As they thrust their spears down, their teammates swarmed in, finishing them off with heavy weapons.
Some people were hit a few times during the counterattack and suffered minor injuries, so they immediately covered their wounds and crawled backward.
Even more outrageous, some people had no injuries at all, but when they saw the people around them running away, they turned around and fled as well.
In a flash, hundreds of people were gone, and then those who didn't know what was going on were rushed in to fill the gaps.
After this happened several times, it was the heavily armored knights who fell down in large numbers.
The fleeing conscripts were gathered up by both sides and driven back to the battlefield.
When old farmers face each other, their inherent tendency to bully the weak and fear the strong is immediately exposed.
No matter where the lord is from, it's never good to get hurt; but we're all just toiling in the fields, so who's afraid of whom?
Those with fewer men can't beat those with more, and the ability to kick a man when he's down is innate. The men who were just dawdling were suddenly red-eyed and chasing after the fleeing soldiers, slashing and stabbing them.
Joffrey naturally wouldn't let his soldiers join in such a spectacle.
After about the time it takes to drink a bag of wine, James was the first to lose his temper and sent someone to ask for help.
"Your Majesty, why haven't you come to our rescue yet?" Lansel rode up from behind, holding a flag, his face full of anxiety.
Joffrey glanced at the battle situation, smiled, and pointed forward.
"Because I can subdue the enemy without fighting."
He had the soldiers walk forward a few dozen steps, then stand there and shout together towards the opposite side.
"King Joffrey has arrived! The Iron Throne's 70,000-strong army has arrived!"
The river bend infantry rioted again, and more people were pulled in front of them.
Joffrey did not engage them in combat, but maintained a distance that could pose a threat at any moment.
Suddenly, the situation on the field reversed instantly.
All the people in the valley became brave and turned back to chase and fight the other side.
As long as I don't make a move, no one will know how strong I am.
At this moment, Joffrey was faced with a stalemate.
The cavalry on the right wing and the heavy infantry on the left wing were locked in combat.
The enemy's central army was in disarray again, while Redwin's fleet lingered on the shore, reluctant to come down.
The best outcome would be to force Renly back to the Rocky Hall and have him escape there with his fleet.
This way, Joffrey can rally the remaining people, and with the help of political propaganda, he can win without fighting a single battle.
Let's go.
The crowned stag banner in the distance swayed a few times, and Renly finally made his choice.
Ugh.
It still came at me.
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