Had anyone ever used Shadowbinding Art like this?
In broad daylight, under everyone's watchful eyes, it passed through the midst of tens of thousands of soldiers and went straight for the enemy's command platform!
To complete this attack, Aegor contributed the pure magic from the R'hllor's Scale as a guide, Melisandre provided magic continuously day and night for the past thirty-plus hours as nourishment, and Kinvara poured most of her energy into the shadow before it set off to be used as consumption "along the way."
An emissary of the goddess, plus two high-ranking priests. Even with such a luxurious casting and support lineup, the power of this incorporeal entity was still only enough for one strike to "cut down the flag" after crossing the battlefield, and it withered and disappeared before it could even injure half an enemy soldier.
Mages in a low-magic world were just this pathetic.
But the Reach soldiers did not know any of this.
They only saw a dark, unknown demonic entity float over their heads and head straight toward the command post, and a moment later, the three-headed red dragon flag symbolizing Aegon drew an arc and fell!
One had to ask: in their panic and unsettled state, how could they have thought or guessed that the scene was not one of bloodshed and corpses everywhere, but merely a broken flagpole?
As the central army's banner fell and disappeared under the gaze of countless eyes, the Reach Army's front line across the entire western battlefield immediately showed signs of wavering. Although the Reachmen nobles in the command post quickly worked together to raise and re-erect the flag under Jon Connington's loud calls, and swiftly dispatched people everywhere to announce that the king was unharmed, the front-line troops slightly farther ahead, who were clashing with the Western Expeditionary Army, still began an irreversible retreat and withdrawal. Seeing that the situation was beyond recovery, Connington simply ordered the front-line troops to withdraw and preemptively sent the last wave of elites surrounding the command post into battle.
But this time, the Western Expeditionary Army, which had been taking a beating for half the day, did not hold its ground and maintain its defensive formation as the main Reach force had done in previous rotations, allowing the enemy to complete their withdrawal and regroup. Instead, amidst a mountain-shaking, sea-roaring wave of shouts and battle cries, they broke away from their positions for the first time today, sweeping forward with the previous wave of routed soldiers toward the remaining scorpion positions to the west, as well as the Highgarden troops and Golden Company infantry!
The front-line troops had received the order to retreat, and the second-line troops could not mindlessly block and annihilate them like deserters, but the depth needed for rotation was indeed being squeezed and disappearing under the enemy's offensive. The enemy swarmed forward, while the troops trying to retreat from the battlefield had their formations distorted in the chaos, blocking the fresh forces ready to enter the fray. The desire for survival and the hot blood yearning to kill the enemy collided and converged between the two armies, instantly crushing the Reachmen's foremost troops into bloody pulp like a descending hydraulic press.
The tide of battle turned in just a few minutes, and it was no coincidence.
Aegor had held out for half the day, waiting for this fleeting moment. If Connington had had a second force capable of fighting, he could have magnanimously retreated to create depth, then calmly deployed troops to form a pincer movement against the charging Western Expeditionary Army, easily swallowing and digesting them. But now, all organized Reach forces had already participated in the battle and exhausted their momentum, and with no other fresh forces available, the Western Expeditionary Army could finally boldly pursue their victory!
"Hold the line, hold the line! Those who flee the battle will be killed!"
Jon Connington roared hoarsely, completely unable to guess that his opponent's brilliant tactics were due to the bird circling above his head, not blind luck. While hopelessly reassuring the last viable force, he swiftly ordered the remaining cavalry on the right flank to sortie again, attempting to outflank Aegor's attacking infantry. But under the collapsing, defeated state like a breaking dam, he ultimately had no choice but to bow to reality.
"Cover the king's retreat first. Fall back to the main camp!"
...
A centipede dies but never falls over.
This phrase was perfectly apt to describe the Reachmen Allied Army at this moment.
Although the western front was finally seized by Aegor for a reckless charge, successfully rolling up a snowball named "victory," the fighting on the eastern, southern, and northern fronts of the entire battlefield continued due to the delay in information transmission. The enemy forces on these three fronts neither saw their commander's banner fall nor had they received the order to retreat, and were still desperately attacking with gritted teeth, foolishly believing that two fists were no match for four hands, and that a multi-pronged attack would always make Aegor flustered and allow them to gain an advantage, or at least create opportunities for the main force.
Victory was almost certain, but not yet settled.
The southern front of the battlefield was held by the Unsullied, solid as a rock and unmoving, while the infantry on the eastern front narrowly managed to block the second attack of the main Reach Army cavalry using square formations without fire support. The enemy on the northern front, personally led by Aegor, despite being the smallest in number, was the most troublesome force. The shallow-draft fleet from the Shield Islands cunningly chose not to land at the same spot, but scattered and docked along nearly a thousand meters of shoreline, dropping off over a dozen small detachments ranging from thirty or forty to more than a hundred men, attempting to infiltrate the interior of the trapezoidal formation.
The problem faced by the high-spirited and murderous Gift Army main force was not "how to win," but "how to stop all the enemies."
Even if these landed sailors had poor combat strength, letting even one or two detachments through could result in a fatal backstab for the forces fighting fiercely on the eastern and western fronts!
Breathing heavily, his throat dry and sore, his heart pounding like a drum, the hastily assembled reserve force barely held the riverbank under Aegor's dazzling, almost show-off-like detailed command, completely eliminating or driving the first wave of landing enemies into the Mander. Looking out, the wide river was full of floating corpses and defeated soldiers struggling to swim to the other side, while the Reachmen's warships, fearing the power of the cannons, dared not stop to rescue anyone and headed directly to the north bank to begin loading the second wave of crossing troops.
One could imagine that if the main battles on the other three fronts were slow to decide a winner, then this fleet, as long as it could continuously ferry troops back and forth despite the cannons' power, landing at different locations each time, could eventually wear down the Western Expeditionary Army's last emergency force, even without engaging in direct combat, just by attrition.
But now, with the hasty retreat of the main Reach force on the western front, victory was a foregone conclusion. Aegor could now confidently redeploy troops from the western front to assist in the battle. The next time the ships on the other side came over, they would face far more than just two or three thousand men.
Looking around at the battlefield where the situation was gradually becoming clear, Aegor slowly settled his heart, yet a faint trace of regret emerged.
Winning with a surprise move was certainly satisfying, but if there had been any other options, who would have chosen to use Shadowbinding Art on the battlefield in broad daylight?
Those who understood the principle knew that Shadowbinding Art was just an ordinary school and branch among countless types of magic, but how could the principle and mechanism of this magic possibly be publicly explained?
And if it was not explained, in the eyes of the common people, was Shadowbinding Art not just evil magic? Not to mention, even Aegor himself had to admit that this spell did touch upon both obscenity and evil, and being slandered for it was not unfair.
This kind of method should have been used secretly, like the assassination of Renly, to make a quiet fortune. How could it see the light of day, let alone sunlight?
One had to know that even Stannis, who in the original timeline did indeed only secretly use this move, had to deliberately send Melisandre away when attacking King's Landing, so that after taking the Iron Throne, he would not be said to have achieved victory by relying on evil magic.
And now, he had used this move in front of tens of thousands of people.
This action would not only tarnish his glorious image as the "savior of humanity," but would also bring negative effects to Daenerys's originally rock-solid legitimacy of rule.
It was foreseeable that the countless preparations, mid-battle arrangements, and on-the-spot performance he had made for this battle, and the merits of the countless men who had sacrificed themselves, shed blood, and even given their lives in the fight, would all be obscured under the light, no, the darkness, of that spectral shadow. From today until the end of the world, there would be trolls who would simply summarize the reason for his victory in this battle as "using evil magic."
However...
So what?
He was alive, and he had won.
If nothing unexpected happened, he would still have a lifetime to slowly write history and leisurely find a way to clear his name regarding this matter.
As he was sorting out his thoughts, the soldiers around him suddenly let out a mix of surprise and excitement. Aegor looked up toward the horizon they were pointing at and saw two black dots rapidly flying toward the battlefield from the eastern sky. Daenerys and her two dragons had finally arrived, albeit late, catching the very end of the battle!
...
The dragons breathed out orange-yellow dragonfire, engulfing one flat-bottomed boat after another in flames. In fact, even before they stopped circling and swooped down along the river, the Reach forces in all directions had already begun a chaotic and disorganized rout. The fierce battle had been going on for half the day. Let alone the Reachmen, even Aegor had subconsciously assumed that Daenerys would not make it today. In such a situation, her sudden reappearance, while a surprise to the Western Expeditionary Army, was an unimaginable shock and fatal blow to the enemy.
The roar of the cannons finally ceased. The narrow center of the battlefield, which had been packed with a hundred thousand soldiers just moments before, was left with only scattered remnants of over ten thousand after just a few minutes. The eighty thousand Reachmen and the Golden Company loyal to Aegon had fled without a trace, but the Western Expeditionary Army's pursuit had to be mentioned. The enemies on the north bank could not swim across to chase them, but the Western Expeditionary Army forces in all directions, east, west, and south, except for Aegor's Gift Army main force, which needed to serve as the guard, the artillery, which had poor mobility, and four other heavily damaged formations unable to fight, all remaining troops, including the Unsullied and Westerlands cavalry, upon receiving a single order, shifted from defense to attack, biting at the enemy's heels and beginning the pursuit.
The Reach Army was too vast in number. Aegor could not give them any chance to stabilize and regroup. Compared to the risk of enduring another battle, the risk of pursuit was utterly negligible.
Amidst the widespread chaos, Daenerys, riding her two dragons, landed steadily as usual. Aegor, dragging his weary body, went to meet her, but was preempted by Daenerys as she dismounted from the dragon's back.
"Why didn't you wait for me?"
Daenerys's tone held confusion. She was not blaming Aegor, but seriously asking the question. The Western Expeditionary Army's soldiers had sworn allegiance to her. Clashing head-on with the Reachmen in her absence meant every soldier lost was a loss of her strength.
"Your Grace, please go take a look at our army's logistics units," Aegor replied with a wry smile. "If we did not fight today, tomorrow morning I would have to order the entire army to drink thin porridge, and if you still had not arrived tomorrow for some reason, our army, drinking thin porridge, would not be able to defeat a hundred thousand Reachmen."
What decided the outcome of a battle was certainly not whether breakfast was thin porridge or solid food, but the message conveyed by drinking thin porridge before battle: Our army's provisions are insufficient!
And for a large army, the panic caused by that latter piece of bad news was the truly significant negative impact... Heaven knew how many IOUs for grain "borrowed" from the Reach people along the way Aegor had stamped with his seal, and how much education and warning, even intimidation, he had given the Chief Logistics officers to conceal this situation.
Fortunately, now he could finally blurt out this news without worry.
The Western Expeditionary Army's grain was not even enough to last until Highgarden.
"So that is how it is." Her Hand had just finished a difficult battle, the bloodstains on his weapons and armor had not even dried yet. At this crucial moment, Daenerys certainly was not foolish enough to actually go inspect the logistics unit's remaining grain. Instead, she decisively chose to trust Aegor. She nodded understandingly. "Well fought!"
"Well fought." Although concise, this praise was filled with sincere admiration. Daenerys, who had also led troops to capture cities and territories, was not completely inexperienced in warfare. She naturally saw that even if she had not arrived, this battle had already been won. And having witnessed the Reachmen's genuine hundred-thousand-strong army and the incredible four-sided encirclement tactic from the air, she had no doubt: if she had commanded today's battle without dragons, breaking out and escaping would have been a miracle.
She was very curious about the details of the battle.
"Regarding the specific battle situation, please allow me to report to Your Grace later," Aegor, still in his armor, simply bowed slightly as a salute. "But now, I dare to ask Your Grace to return to your dragon's back and take to the sky to cooperate with our army's pursuit of the enemy. The east side of the battlefield is the enemy's main cavalry force. With their higher mobility, they are the most likely to escape a distance, shake off the pursuers, and reorganize for a counterattack. But with Drogon and Rhaegal here, they will not be able to cause any trouble!"
"Is that necessary?" Daenerys frowned. "I do not think they have the courage to fight again after this battle."
"Whether the Reachmen still have the courage to fight again, I do not know, but what I am certain of is that the number of Reachmen nobles after this battle is still too large."
Aegor looked left and right. All around him were trusted soldiers without noble backgrounds. It was a bit shameful, but he had originally even ordered no prisoners of war or hostages, planning to kill any nobles they caught. Who knew that when the fighting actually started, just winning would be this difficult?
"There are thousands upon thousands of Reachmen nobles. If they are all banished beyond the Wall, in three to five years we will have to worry about suppressing rebellions beyond the Wall again. The battlefield is the only place where killing does not bring infamy, and the time before the enemy surrenders is the most suitable opportunity to reduce their numbers without incurring hatred. We need another Field of Fire. Only then can the Great King's Landing Plan move from paper to reality!"
(To be continued.)
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