Chapter 678

"Indeed. After a lengthy discussion with Lord Connington, I also came to agree with Lord Randyll’s viewpoint: completely discarding our initial plan would mean throwing away our greatest advantage—our cavalry—and we simply do not have the time for a full strategic overhaul." Strickland let out a long sigh, nodding in recognition. "Thus, the conclusion we reached was to take a balanced approach. While our primary focus must be on reinforcing our infantry, we will make subtle but targeted adjustments to exploit the ‘second-move advantage’ gained from our so-called ‘morale disadvantage.’ If we execute it correctly, we may yet turn the tide."

If even that stubborn, battle-hardened old warhorse agreed with the Golden Company commander’s plan, then it was likely both feasible and had a high chance of success.

"After analyzing the information and lessons provided by Lord Rowan, the solution became apparent—find an area with a dense concentration of hills and construct artificial cover using sand and rubble between them. This would allow our forces to maneuver and redeploy behind a continuous defensive structure rather than being forced into a passive stance from the moment they come into range."

The ability to admit one’s own repeated failures in such a clear and detached manner, without a shred of self-deception, required an astonishing level of composure and social skill—perhaps even an inhuman level of thick-skinned shamelessness. Yet before anyone could ridicule him, the Golden Company commander raised his voice slightly after a brief pause.

He rapped his fingers on the table, contemplating how best to answer Randyll’s inevitable objections, but before he could speak, Jon Connington stepped in to defuse the situation.

"That is not to say I have already resigned myself to the idea that annihilating the enemy is impossible," Connington said. "Rather, I am emphasizing that, when at a disadvantage, our priority should be to frustrate and disrupt the enemy’s strategic objectives before concerning ourselves with whether we can eliminate them in one decisive stroke. As for the matter of a cavalry charge—if the enemy continues their methodical rolling advance without exposing any weaknesses, then why should we charge at all? Why not simply hold our position and wait for them to come to us? After all, it is not we who are surrounded, cut off from supply lines, and slowly starving."

How had a mere mercenary, a man who fought for coin rather than loyalty, ended up in the very core of the allied command? After suffering two humiliating defeats in a row, he had not fled—instead, he was here, standing before a room full of hereditary lords, motivating them to continue the fight.

"I can already envision tomorrow’s battle," Strickland continued. "Aegor will realize that his artillery is ineffective against our new defensive positions, so he will order his army to keep advancing in increments. They will push forward until they are within two arrow-flights of our line, halt just within visible range, and continue their relentless bombardment. They will exploit their superior range and our lack of countermeasures to chip away at our morale, trying to force us into a premature charge or provoke an internal collapse."

"My suggestion is simple: instead of leaving idle forces in the rear, why not open a new front? Aegor has set his ‘iron pot’ at the Mander’s edge, convex side toward us—why must we foolishly hurl all our forces against the side he expects? There are warships docked at Highgarden’s riverside. We should dispatch orders overnight, have them sail east to the battlefield, and ferry one or two divisions across the Mander to lie in ambush on the western bank. If that Night’s Watch bastard realizes he is outmatched and attempts to withdraw toward New Barrel, this hidden force will slow his crossing, buying us time for a pursuit. And if a decisive battle does break out, then at the crucial moment, these troops can cross the river and strike Aegor’s ‘iron pot’ from the front—delivering a crushing, four-sided assault!"

"I know some of you are already cursing me in your heads," Strickland said, puffing out his chest slightly. His once-glistening golden armor, dulled from battle and weather, caught the lamplight once more, flashing faintly. "But allow me to explain the last part of what I said. Yes, we have suffered repeated setbacks. That is undeniable. But the enemy has nearly exhausted their tricks. And we? We still have an army. We are still here, convening a war council, calmly discussing how to counter their weapons and tactics. That—" he spread his arms wide, "—is the second-move advantage we have gained in exchange for our so-called morale disadvantage."

A hush fell over the tent. Most of those present instinctively felt the plan was sound, yet doubts lingered as to whether it could truly contain the Queen’s army. A murmur of hushed whispers spread throughout the command tent before, as if by unspoken agreement, dozens of eyes settled not on King Aegon or Duke Tyrell, but on the man who had spent the last hour challenging every proposal—Randyll Tarly.

The Golden Company had suffered devastating losses. If Strickland abandoned the cause now, he would not only leave empty-handed—he would have no escape. King’s Landing had fallen, the enemy controlled Westeros’s eastern coast, and the Hightowers, who still held Oldtown’s port, were far from cooperative. Even if he fled, there was nowhere left to run.

It was either die forgotten, or gamble everything in one final battle—and rise above his mercenary status, securing a noble legacy for himself and his descendants.

With morale at rock bottom, Strickland had no illusions about testing the patience of his peers. Without hesitation, he pressed on.

Under the scrutiny of a dozen sharp gazes, the Lord of Horn Hill furrowed his brow, smoothed it out, then furrowed it again. Finally, he gave the barest of nods. The moment it happened, those watching assumed it was tacit approval—only for him to suddenly interject with a new question:

"Apart from constructing a defensive barrier, isn’t this just our original plan? Where is the ‘compromise’ in these tactical adjustments?"

...

Strickland’s well-crafted opening statement had set the tone. With that in mind, Randyll Tarly restrained himself from outright dismissing the proposal. Instead, he scrutinized the details.

"This barrier will take time to build," he noted. "And once constructed, it will prevent our forces from launching rapid cavalry charges as we usually do."

The introduction was over. Now, it was time to get into the real discussion.

"A barrier’s impact on cavalry mobility is negligible compared to the defensive advantage it provides," Jon Connington stated calmly. His weathered face was set with firm resolve. Pushing a streak of graying red hair back from his forehead, he continued, "Even in the worst case, it might delay a charge by—what? A minute? But the real question isn’t whether the charge will be delayed. The real question is: why must we charge at all?"

...

"The enemy dismantled our hammer-and-anvil tactics by ‘breaking the anvil’—shattering our infantry before the cavalry could strike. That means our response must follow one of two paths: one, reinforce the anvil so it can withstand artillery; or two, abandon hammer-and-anvil tactics altogether and seek a new approach."

"Our initial war objective was clear: a swift, decisive battle to annihilate Aegor’s army and shock the Targaryen Queen into submission. From there, we could decide whether to press an assault on King’s Landing or negotiate peace from a position of strength. But that Night’s Watch bastard has proven, time and again, that he is no fool. The Black Brothers did not defeat the Others and subjugate the North through luck. Their commander is not some pushover. He has more fight in him than we anticipated."

"It is time to abandon illusions and adjust our objectives. My recommendation: set the lowest acceptable threshold for victory—halt the enemy’s advance toward Highgarden and force them into retreat."