Should they march north to Winterfell?
At first, Aegon had his worries. But just two days later, his wife suddenly announced wonderful news: "Darling, I'm pregnant. You're going to be a father!"Sansa held his large hand and placed it over her soft belly.
Seeing the mixture of tenderness, affection, and boundless hope in his wife's eyes under the lamplight, Aegon decided to be a good man.
When the original Daenerys became pregnant and the crone predicted she would give birth to the stallion who would mount the world, the khal decided to be a good man: he would avenge his wife and help her reclaim her homeland.
Now that Sansa was pregnant, Aegon too decided to be a good man: he would avenge his wife and help her reclaim her lost home.
The day after announcing publicly that the queen was pregnant, Aegon ordered Count Meggie of Bear Island, Count Gebbert of Deepwood Motte, Count Great Jon of the Hearth, and Ser Andar Royce of the Vale (Bronze Yohn's eldest son) to serve as generals and lead two thousand cavalry out of Riverrun.
Because the crannogmen supplied them along the way, they were able to march quickly through the Neck. In only half a month, they covered eight hundred kilometers (ps) and reached Moat Cailin.
What is it like for ordinary soldiers to attack Moat Cailin?You can think of it as similar to the assault on Luding Bridge.
The Neck had once been ordinary land, with forests and plains.
Ten thousand years ago, during the war between the Children of the Forest and the First Men, several greenseers joined together and unleashed a forbidden spell, summoning a massive tsunami that surged hundreds of kilometers inland, turning vast lands into swamp.
A proper map-wide bombardment.
Perhaps due to the changes brought by that forbidden spell, even after the waters receded, the forests and plains never returned. Instead, the region became a death swamp that devoured life.
The Kingsroad that passes through the Neck is like a bridge connecting two shores.
If a rider leaves the road and falls into the swamp, they may sink into a mire. If no companion is nearby to rescue them, only a string of filthy bubbles will remain as they vanish entirely from the world.
Thus, breaking through Moat Cailin is essentially a forced crossing over a Luding Bridge four hundred kilometers long.
Which is more dangerous—Moat Cailin or the Luding Bridge? That is hard to say.
The Luding Bridge only needed to defend against attacks from the opposite shore, but its enemies wielded automatic weapons. Machine guns and mortars certainly outperformed crossbows and iron swords.
Moat Cailin, however, has several towers built in the swamp. The narrow causeway not only faces a frontal "one-man-holds-the-pass" defense, but arrows and bolts can rain down from both sides and even from behind.
The Boltons stationed two hundred "elite" soldiers at Moat Cailin, theoretically enough to block all lords south of the Neck.
Unfortunately, when facing aerial bombardment in a three-dimensional war, natural defenses from the two-dimensional era are worthless.
A true dimensionality reduction strike.
The crannogmen did not even need to help. Tyrion simply rode Tysha and dropped wildfire bombs. In just five minutes, he broke the Seven Kingdoms' third-strongest strategic checkpoint, which had once stopped the Andals for decades and held off Roose Bolton for two years (ps).
Continuing north, Aegon's cavalry joined Jon's wildling forces in victory at the First Men's barrows.
It seemed even the heavens favored the Starks. Though winter had come, the skies had been clear and sunny for several consecutive months.
Below Winterfell, the Dragon–Wolf coalition encountered the Two Stags leading a band of routed soldiers.
The Two Stags were still as resilient as ever—strong-willed, iron-headed. Even after being crushed by Daenerys the last time (because of the prophesied child), they had never abandoned their goal.
But after struggling for over a month, wading through snow up to their thighs, they were struck down by Little Bolton just before reaching Winterfell's walls.
Yes, Little Bolton attacked first. He did not bother waiting for the Two Stags to set up a siege formation.
The flayed men's army was larger and well-rested.
If they hid behind their walls even with such an advantage, the northern nobles loyal to the Boltons would look down on them.
No surprise: the Two Stags lost again, since they were not cheating this time.
Looking over the past few years of his battles: with the Red Woman beside him, he always won; when alone, he always lost.
After countless hardships, one-quarter of his southern knights of the fiery heart perished. They finally came out of the Wolf's Wood only to be driven away like ducks. Miserable.
The Two Stags fled back into the woods with their broken forces. After counting their numbers, they were horrified to discover that of the fiery heart knights brought from the south, only five hundred remained. Of the three thousand clansmen gathered in the North, only half survived.
If not for Jon entering Ghost during the chaotic battle, ambushing Little Bolton, biting off his calf, and scattering the cavalry pursuing the Two Stags, he would likely have died just as in Game of Thrones.
Truthfully, when Tyrion saw the Two Stags again beneath Winterfell, he had the urge to kill him on the spot.
Because the Two Stags were even more pitiful than after their defeat. Barely a thousand emaciated soldiers remained at his side.
From the time he lost to Winterfell to the time the Dragon–Wolf coalition arrived, over a month had passed.
Lacking food and clothing, defeated, without hope—half of them froze or starved to death.
Of the once-loyal fiery heart knights, only a little over three hundred remained. They had lost their horses and were so starved they were reduced to skin and bones. Their eyes were green, and they could barely lift their swords.
"What a pity. What a terrible pity."
Landing beneath Winterfell, Tyrion looked at the Red Priestess standing beside Jon at the front of the army, then at the three thousand mercenaries holding stag banners on the coalition's left flank. Regret filled him. Before Aegon's marriage, he should have flown north and quietly burned the weakened Two Stags with wildfire. But now…
Who could have imagined such an unlucky man would still have a chance to turn things around?
Jon had not come alone. He brought the Two Stags' wife, daughter, the Red Woman, and the Hand of the King.
The wife and the Red Woman had only about a hundred fiery heart knights with them—not a threat. But the Onion Knight, Davos, had brought three thousand Braavosi mercenaries to save them.
All cavalry.
Here it must be noted: Jon sailed from Eastwatch to Widow's Watch—roughly 1,800 kilometers—while Braavos was only nine hundred kilometers from Widow's Watch.
The Two Stags had planned to recruit at least twenty thousand mercenaries, but time was too short. Jon's army of six thousand could not remain at Widow's Watch forever.
Besides, the Two Stags were aiming for the Iron Throne. Tens of thousands of mercenaries were not meant for Winterfell.
"I did not expect we would meet again like this," the dwarf sighed.
Jon and the Two Stags responded entirely differently to the same words.
Jon gave Tyrion a big hug and said sincerely, "I'm truly glad to see you here."
Then, looking at the massive winged dragon soaring in the sky, he exclaimed, "Congratulations. You've finally achieved your dream and become a dragonrider."
"I didn't think you'd remember."
The dwarf hugged his weathered younger brother tightly, deeply moved.
"Gaa-grrk…"The Two Stags puffed out their cheeks—now thin as parchment—and ground their teeth. He swore silently: one day, he would bring justice, and this kinslayer and traitor of a dwarf would burn.
"I know the king you serve, Aegon Targaryen—Aegon VI," he said, glaring at the dwarf, jaw trembling with rage, "is just like Joffrey and Tommen: a bastard Varys brought to confuse the Targaryen bloodline.
I do not know how Daenerys, normally so shrewd, was deceived. But I will never acknowledge him as Rhaegar and Elia's son."
"No one cares what you think," Tyrion snapped.
A sharp gleam flashed in Erluk's sunken eye sockets as he said coldly, "There are very few people in Westeros with purple eyes and silver hair, but across the Narrow Sea there are countless.
The false prince Aegon may not even be a Westerosi.
If his identity is uncertain, how could he possibly become King of the Seven Kingdoms?
Now even your nephew Tommen is dead. The Baratheon dynasty has only one heir left—me. According to the laws of the Seven Kingdoms, all nobles and commoners, including you, should submit to the rightful king."
"I actually have a question for you," Tyrion tilted his head, giving Erluk a strange look. "Do you have no self-awareness? Do you not know that everyone despises you?"
Erluk pressed his thin lips tightly together. Words were forced out between his teeth: "The law is the law. It has nothing to do with personal likes or dislikes.
Because the law is impartial, the realm can function in an orderly manner under its guidance.
The chaos in the Seven Kingdoms today stems from the violation of the law.
If we want the realm to regain peace and allow the people to live in safety and contentment, we must uphold the law and restore the authority and sanctity of its statutes."
"You're not entirely wrong. If kings and nobles actually followed the rules, the Seven Kingdoms would undoubtedly be enjoying a golden age."
The dwarf first nodded with a complicated expression, then shook his head and sighed. "Sadly, we have always lacked a powerful institution capable of judging a king's actions without undermining royal authority.
For example—yourself.
I believe you could follow the law strictly and grant absolute justice to anyone.
But what about yourself? Can you swear before the Seven that you have never broken the law?"
"My conscience is clear," Erluk said, lifting his chin.
The dwarf shook his head. "You cannot. There are many kings who are impartial and strict with others, but those who are strict with themselves are almost nonexistent. Only one comes to mind, and unfortunately she is not you."
"She?" A woman's silhouette appeared in Erluk's mind without his control.
It was as if she were smiling—mocking him.
At the thought of this, his pupils contracted, and he clenched his jaw tightly.
"Throughout ten thousand years of human history, kings have been as numerous as the sands of the Ganges. Only the Dragon Queen publicly ordered a judge to flog her for violating the Code—even though the entire city watched.
And the Code was written by her!" Tyrion said with genuine admiration.
Of course, he suspected the Dragon Queen was performing for the crowd, but a king willing to pay such a high price for a performance was truly one of a kind.
It was a matter of principle: even a king would be judged and punished before the Code.
Years passed, and the Dragon Queen became a figure known throughout the world. Some of her deeds spread far beyond Slaver's Bay.
Among them was the story of the Dragon Queen "whipping herself to uphold the Code."
So after hearing Tyrion's words, Erluk fell silent. Jon looked thoughtful. The surrounding nobles and knights grew solemn.
Amid the silence, a thin knight with an onion embroidered on his chest stepped forward and said loudly, "Everyone knows that His Majesty Stannis was upright to the point of rigidity. He would never intentionally commit a misdeed just to flog himself later and parade his own virtue."
"Onion…" Tyrion glanced at the knight's chest, then deliberately looked at his left hand—covered in a thick leather glove.
"Ser Davos, the Onion Knight?"
"The Hand of the King, Davos," the knight corrected emphatically.
Then he smiled and asked, "Ser, what exactly is your status these days?"
A sharp light flickered in Tyrion's eyes. He countered, "What do you think?"
"I heard you once swore allegiance to the Dragon Queen, and now you serve as Aegon VI's adviser.
The Dragon Queen swore never to start another civil war within the Seven Kingdoms, yet you're helping her nephew come to Westeros to fight for the Iron Throne…"
Davos smiled warmly, looking every bit the honest man.
Either, you broke your oath, and your actions violate the vows you made to your liege.
A man who breaks his oath has no right to judge the great King Stannis.
Or, if you have not broken your oath, then your current actions represent the Dragon Queen's will. In that case, she is the one who has broken her oath.
She manipulated her nephew as her pawn.
A Dragon Queen who breaks her vows has no right to be compared to my great King Stannis.
Tyrion immediately saw through the rotten schemes beneath the Onion Knight's humble exterior.
"This matter is easy for everyone else to understand. It's only a pity that the great King Stannis never grasped it," the Imp muttered, shaking his head and sighing again and again.
(PS: The sixteen-day, 800-kilometer march is not something I made up on a whim. In the original work, when the allied forces besieged Meereen, they landed at Astapor, which is also 800 kilometers from Meereen. The Ragged Prince led several thousand mercenaries, not all of them mounted, and still made the journey in a month.
Another example: when Robb led four thousand infantry back to the North, he passed the Blue Fork. The wooden bridge at Fairmarket had been destroyed by floods, so he had to head north to Stone Hedge and detour through Seagard. Because of the rain, Robb's pace was extremely slow. The distance from Fairmarket to Stone Hedge is only about a hundred kilometers, yet Robb needed more than half a month.
Erluk's journey from the Wall to Winterfell was even slower. With snow blocking the roads, there were days he could travel only two kilometers.
This shows that Martin took different circumstances into account and handled them differently.
The sixteen-day, 800-kilometer march here takes place along the Kingsroad, the royal highway of Westeros. Its hardened dirt surface is similar to the roads of Slaver's Bay.
PS2: The Wall is the most formidable natural barrier in the Seven Kingdoms, the Bloody Gate in the Vale is second, and only then comes Moat Cailin.)
(End of chapter)
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