WMK 133

Chapter 133: Encounter in the Village

The vanguard signaled a halt to the advance. The clip-clop of hooves gradually ceased, and the fluttering banners drooped.

William, along with the two cavalry captains beside him, rode to the front of the column to meet Rosso, who was in charge of the vanguard today and had hurried over.

Rosso reported the situation to William. "There's a village not far ahead. Our scouts have spotted Lannister soldiers. Only a few dozen in number, but many are cavalry. One scout team returned to report; the others bypassed the village for further reconnaissance. We don't know yet if there are more enemy troops."

Creighton pulled a rolled map from a saddlebag and opened it. The map was somewhat crude, simply marking the terrain, roads, and rivers.

"The Westerland host crossed the Red Fork at the Mummers' Ford. If they want to reach the western shore of the God's Eye, this area is the easiest path." Creighton traced a few lines on the map with a finger and concluded, "We'd better avoid it."

"Let's wait before deciding," William said with a smile.

As soon as he finished speaking, a male eagle flew over their heads, beating its powerful, robust wings, diving into the sea of clouds like a black bolt of lightning.

Seeing William gazing intently at the distant sky, the cavalry captains understood. They glanced at each other, said nothing, and waited quietly.

After a while, William withdrew his gaze and looked around at the cavalry captains. "This should be a small group of soldiers out looking for fun. We can safely eliminate them!"

"How many are there approximately?" Creighton asked.

"No more than fifty, a mix of infantry and cavalry."

"Then a single charge should be enough to break them." Creighton's eyes shifted. "Ser, let me handle them."

William pondered for a moment. "We are far from Harrenhal. We must avoid casualties as much as possible. Creighton, take your men and set an ambush ahead of the village. Rosso, you take your men and approach with great fanfare, scare those soldiers out of the village, then deal with them outside the village. And remember, let none escape!"

Rosso and Creighton acknowledged in unison, turned, and led their troops away.

By the time William arrived at the village with the main force, the fighting was over.

Everything had gone as anticipated. The Westerland soldiers, busy looting and seeking amusement, had no heart for a fight. The moment they saw the clouds of dust raised by Rosso's approach, they fled the village. Creighton, lying in ambush within the woods, suddenly charged out. A single charge killed more than half; the rest knelt and begged for mercy.

Rosso's cavalry arrived quickly too, but didn't manage to claim a single kill.

A pile of bodies lay in the clearing at the village entrance. Over a dozen captured Lannister soldiers, stripped of their armor.

The Lannister army's equipment was among the best in the entire Seven Kingdoms. The stripped weapons and armor were piled high in front of the prisoners.

"Not a single Lion got away. They're all here," Creighton said, riding up to William, beaming. "Only a few of our men suffered light wounds."

William nodded approvingly.

Creighton glanced sideways at the prisoners and lowered his voice. "Ser, what should we do with these prisoners? We're on the march; taking them with us would likely be inconvenient."

Jermaine's eyebrows shot up. "Killing prisoners goes against the code of chivalry."

Creighton shrugged. "Unfortunately, the knight leading them fell in battle. These common-born soldiers are of little use. Surely we can't just let them go?"

If the knight were alive, when ransoming himself, he would typically also pay the ransoms for his soldiers. Otherwise, recruiting new soldiers wouldn't just be more costly; even if money weren't an issue, people might not dare follow such a master.

'How could we just let them go? This mountain man has his own clever plan.'

William had his guards summon the villagers hiding in their houses. Soon, the villagers gathered in the clearing at the village entrance. They looked with awe at the Harrenhal cavalry, radiating an aura of steel, and with hatred at the dejected Lannister prisoners kneeling on the ground.

The grey-haired village headman, trembling with fear, came into the clearing. After figuring out that William, astride the black warhorse, was the leader, he scrambled over to the horse, exerting all his skill to flatter and curry favor, though his phrasing was a mix of formal and colloquial, rather awkward.

William chatted with him casually for a few moments, then pointed at the prisoners. "These men have caused great damage to your village, haven't they? How about we hand them over to you to deal with?"

The headman was startled. "This... how could we dare?"

But William's voice was loud, and the villagers all heard him. They began whispering among themselves, some visibly agitated.

William wasn't in a hurry. He watched the villagers with a smile.

Soon, a young man with thick eyebrows, large eyes, and a somewhat simple, honest-looking, sun-darkened complexion stepped forward.

The young man's body trembled slightly. He didn't dare look directly at William. Glancing hatefully towards the prisoners, he stammered, "M-my lord, c-can I hit him?"

"Oh, what did he do?" William's voice was gentle.

"H-he... he violated Liza!" The young man clenched his fists, his voice filled with resentment and anger.

"Ah, what a pity." William shook his head regretfully. "I've heard the country laws are straightforward. For thieves, the left hand steals, cut off the left hand; the right hand steals, cut off the right hand. He committed an unforgivable crime against Liza. If you just beat him up, it's hardly fair."

Magic stirred quietly.

"I'll give you one of the swords on the ground. Go and reclaim the justice your beloved Liza deserves. Look, she's watching you expectantly," William's voice was full of temptation.

Although he didn't know who Liza was, surely all the villagers were watching the young man now, so it wasn't exactly a lie.

A surge of courage suddenly rose in the young man's heart. His eyes grew determined. He strode quickly to the pile of weapons and armor, pulled out a sword, and charged towards that prisoner.

The prisoner cried out in despair, "Don't kill me! Don't kill me! I only did her! Cutting off my cock would be fair! Don't! Ah—"

The prisoner's words only fueled the young man's rage further. His entire face contorted into a ferocious mask. He thrust the sword fiercely into the prisoner's chest. However, this was likely the first time he had ever held a sword. The thrust didn't kill the prisoner instantly, and the man let out a piercing wail.

The scream ignited a cruel streak in the young man. He pulled the sword out and stabbed down again. The prisoner issued another shocking cry, terrifying the other captives into trembling.

Stab after stab, heedless of the blood splattering all over his head and face, he continued until the prisoner fell completely silent. Only then did the young man stop, panting heavily, his face, body, and hands covered in blood, looking like a demon.

William shifted his gaze to the other villagers, loudly inciting them. "What are you waiting for? Settle your scores, redress your wrongs! The weapons on the ground are yours for the taking."

Immediately, several more young men walked over to the weapon pile, picked up swords, and advanced towards the prisoners, their eyes bloodshot.

Then, almost all the men rushed forward. Those who couldn't get weapons used their fists and feet.

"... You bullied my wife..."

"... Father, I've avenged you!"

"... Dared to steal my burial money..."

Amid the chaos and screams, blood splattered high into the air from time to time.

Watching the villagers using longswords like kitchen knives, the observing cavalrymen couldn't help but shake their heads repeatedly.

The village headman watched the scene as if he'd lost the ability to think, standing there woodenly, staring blankly at the frenzied villagers.

It wasn't until the dozen or so prisoners were all dead that the villagers gradually calmed down.

William called out twice before the headman snapped out of his daze. He looked at William, his face breaking into an obsequious smile.

"The Westerland army won't stay here long. You can take shelter in the hills for now. Take all the weapons and armor on the ground. Arm the villagers; it might help you protect yourselves a little."

"Yes, yes, whatever you say, my lord."

Thinking for a moment, William added, "A knight named Beric Dondarrion might be active in this area soon. He has a purple lightning bolt on his armor, very easy to recognize. If you encounter him, you can ask him for help."

"Yes, yes, whatever you say, my lord."