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The war horns blared across the field.
"Form up, Prepare for battle!" Jon shouted, panic creeping into his voice.
He had thought he understood how the Free Folk operated.
He was wrong.
What he had seen before was barely the surface.
There was no formation.
No structure.
Where proper armies marched in ranks, the Free Folk moved in loose, chaotic clusters.
A journey that should have taken three days had dragged on for nearly twice as long.
And worse, they cut corners at every turn. No discipline. No proper watch rotations.
To avoid being ambushed at night, Jon had been forced to rely entirely on his northern levies to stand guard.
By this point, he felt less like a commander… and more like a man drowning in chaos.
If only Jimmy were here.
At the very least, he would bring strength.
A warrior like that could tear through enemy lines like a storm.
Lyanna Mormont had quietly suggested something to Jon along the way.
"Sea Dragon Point may have been taken by a mysterious group of Free Folk, Deepwood Motte was emptied out, and they're the prime suspects."
"If we lack the numbers, it might be worth the risk to seek them out."
Jon had considered it.
But ultimately, he refused.
He didn't know their intentions.
If he walked into a trap, how would he face Ramsay Bolton afterward?
And then—
The horn sounded again.
Louder.
Closer.
Ramsay's army had arrived.
Banners unfurled in the wind as his cavalry crested the distant ridge.
"Cavalry…" Even Tormund's face darkened. "This is bad."
The Free Folk were positioned in a shallow depression.
The worst possible terrain.
The enemy cavalry would charge downhill, and they had no advantage at all.
To one side lay a stretch of forest, an extension of the Wolfswood.
If they could reach it, they might survive.
But Ramsay had already anticipated that.
A detachment of cavalry was moving to cut them off.
There was no escape.
Only battle.
Jon drew Longclaw, his grip tightening.
Despair settled in.
Ramsay had over four thousand cavalry.
Jon's entire force, combined, barely reached thirty-five hundred.
There was no winning this.
Then—
A horn sounded from the forest.
Jon's head snapped toward the sound.
An ambush?
Ramsay turned as well, confusion flashing across his face.
Whose army was that?
A roar followed.
"Charge!"
Jimmy burst from the treeline, riding at the front, blade in hand.
Jon's eyes lit up.
He immediately thought of coordinating with Jimmy, combining their forces.
But that thought vanished in an instant.
Jimmy didn't need support.
If anything…
They needed to support him.
Four thousand elk-mounted riders thundered onto the field, slamming directly into the enemy's left flank.
They struck like a hammer to the ribs.
Fresh. Fast. Relentless.
Blades were mounted to the antlers of the elk.
The riders held long spears tucked under their arms, thrusting forward with precision.
Each strike landed clean.
Then they dropped the weapon and drew another.
The armor-piercing, four-edged spears remained lodged in the bodies of their enemies.
"Boom."
Behind them came two hundred giants.
Each one clad in armor.
Each one carrying a shield the size of a fortress wall.
In their other hands were massive iron weapons. Some wielded sweeping iron brooms. Others carried crushing flails.
Jon glanced at Tormund.
"You said you've killed giants?"
Tormund hesitated.
"…Maybe I killed the small ones."
Who had ever seen giants like this?
Armored.
Organized.
Unstoppable.
"Move! Get behind them!"
The giants formed a solid line, their shields slamming into the ground to create an instant defensive wall.
Jon's forces rushed behind them.
Some didn't make it.
There was nothing to be done for them.
The shields locked into place.
The giants braced.
Then—
Impact.
The charging cavalry slammed into the wall.
A deafening crash echoed across the battlefield.
It was like watching horses collide with a stone.
Two hundred giants raised their shields, forming an unbreakable wall.
It was as if a fortress had risen in an instant.
"Strike!"
Magg roared the command.
The massive iron weapons swung out like swatters, crushing men and horses alike.
"Charge!"
Another unit of elk riders surged forward.
But these were different.
They moved in tight formation, three ranks deep. Every five mounts were linked together by iron chains, creating a moving barrier.
They slammed straight into the cavalry charging from the right, cutting them off before they could reach the giants.
And once cavalry lost their momentum…
They were nothing.
Prey.
The giants dropped their shields, crushing everything beneath them, then charged forward, weapons swinging.
Even as they advanced, they slung their massive shields onto their backs without breaking stride.
Behind them, Jon's forces surged forward as well.
The tide had turned.
Completely.
…
Ramsay's advantage collapsed in an instant.
Charge?
If he pushed forward now, he'd be marching his men straight into a slaughter.
"Archers! Loose!" Ramsay shouted. "Cavalry, hold back the force coming out of the Wolfswood!"
"My lord, our own men are still down there—"
A blade flashed.
The Karstark messenger fell, clutching his chest.
"Loose!"
Arrows rained down.
The giants were slow to react at first, only raising their shields after the second volley.
Fortunately, the Free Folk wore heavy armor. Their losses were minimal.
Jon's forces weren't so lucky.
In a single wave, over three hundred men fell.
But then the giant shields rose again, forming an impenetrable barrier against the arrows.
…
"Boom!"
Jimmy's charge collided head-on with Ramsay's cavalry.
At the front rode a warrior in a wolf-helm, fighting fiercely, cutting down anyone in his path.
But against Jimmy…
He wasn't even close.
Jimmy's blade blurred as it moved, striking so fast it seemed like a storm of steel.
Within a radius of several yards around him, nothing lived.
And somehow, despite the carnage, his charge never slowed.
Ramsay saw it.
And knew.
This battle was lost.
"Fall back!" he snapped, turning with his personal guard.
He intended to run.
Run?
Not anymore.
Once Jimmy had his eyes on you, there was no escape.
"Horus! Burn!"
A streak of red dove from the sky.
Flames erupted, cutting off Ramsay's retreat.
Panic spread through his ranks.
Even the Free Folk riders stared in disbelief.
Jimmy's charge defied all logic.
He carved through the battlefield without slowing, while the elk riders behind him followed up with brutal efficiency.
At range, they thrust with spears.
Up close, the blades mounted on their mounts' antlers tore through flesh and armor alike.
"Bring him down! Kill his horse!"
Arrows flew.
A volley struck true, bringing Jimmy's mount crashing down.
But before it hit the ground—
He leapt.
The Cloudsplitter blade slammed into the hilt of his other weapon, and in an instant—
Two blades.
Twice the speed.
Twice the destruction.
"Someone tell me," one of the Umbers shouted in disbelief, "why that blue-armored lunatic is faster on foot than on horseback!"
Hother Umber had led the attack, two hundred spearmen and a hundred archers behind him.
He had been the one to bring down Jimmy's horse.
But what followed made no sense.
Jimmy wasn't slower.
He was faster.
Deadlier.
Wider in reach and devastation.
Jimmy smirked inwardly.
He had planned to fight like a normal cavalryman.
But now?
No more holding back.
The horse had only been slowing him down.
…
Ramsay's cavalry line shattered.
Those who tried to flee slammed straight into the waiting ranks of Free Folk infantry.
A forest of spearpoints rose to meet them.
Cold.
Unyielding.
There was nowhere left to run.
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