When Tormo heard that a fleet had appeared on the Little Rhoyne, his mind went completely blank.
By the time he led his troops to the river, Viserys had already dismantled their final pontoon bridge.
The silver-haired king stood upon the deck of a warship, clearly having noticed him, gazing down over the battlefield from on high.
There was even the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
What would happen if fifty thousand soldiers were lost here?
Fifty thousand fully armed troops did not represent the entirety of Braavos's military strength.
They still had their fleet, and could conscript at least another hundred thousand men.
But those troops would never compare to the army he currently commanded.
Though Freygo now dominated Braavos, if he were to lose fifty thousand soldiers in one stroke, the other factions would immediately seize the chance to force him from power.
At present, the only option was to gather the army, shift from offense to defense, and have Freygo himself negotiate with Viserys from afar.
As things stood, Tormo was the most likely candidate to become the next Sea Lord.
This campaign against Gohor had been meant to secure his position through military glory.
No one would take responsibility for this defeat in his place. In fact, Freygo might even push the blame onto him to protect himself.
Tormo's hands clenched tightly around the carved railing of his chariot.
He could not understand how those fools in Volantis had allowed Viserys's fleet to pass.
What kind of agreement had they reached?
Unwilling to concede, he looked again at the fleet on the Little Rhoyne, then toward the city walls to the east. His thoughts churned like a pot of overturned meat porridge.
"Why? Why? If that damned Targaryen had arrived even one day later—no, half a day later—I would have smashed that ridiculous wall!"
Tormo hammered the ornamented railing in frustration, lamenting the cruelty of fate.
"My lord, we should first gather the army and prepare against a pincer attack from Viserys and the city garrison, and find a way to contact King Freygo."
Seeing that Tormo's mental state was clearly unstable, Quairo quickly stepped forward to advise him.
"Front and rear attack… front and rear attack!"
Tormo stared at Quairo as if grasping a lifeline, like a man lost in darkness glimpsing a ray of light.
Suddenly, a flash of clarity cut through his chaotic thoughts.
Viserys could only field a little over twenty thousand troops at most.
After more than ten days of fighting, there could be no more than ten thousand soldiers left behind that rammed-earth wall.
He had nearly breached that wall already.
No matter what, everyone inside the wall represented Viserys's entire land force.
Based on earlier intelligence, even if Viserys had brought every soldier from Dragonstone with this fleet, that would amount to no more than five or six thousand men.
Tormo still commanded six full armies.
There was no need for him to cross the river.
He only needed to detach part of his forces to hold Viserys off for a day or two. Once that damned wall fell, would he not be free of the danger of being attacked from both sides?
If food was Tormo's crystal, then the wall was Viserys's crystal. As long as Viserys's crystal shattered first, he would not lose this war.
With this realization, Tormo straightened, his spirits rising.
He shouted his orders,
"Tell the Pentoshi and their mercenaries that if they don't want to die, they'd better hold back the Targaryens!"
"My lord?"
Seeing how quickly Tormo's mood had shifted, Quairo was momentarily at a loss.
Tormo excitedly explained his plan in brief. Quairo realized that it did make sense.
Believing he had seized Viserys's weakness, Tormo raised his spyglass toward the fleet—only for his expression to collapse in an instant.
He saw that, at some point, banners of the Golden Company had been raised on Viserys's warships.
Black as the field, adorned with golden skulls.
The Golden Company's motto: Gold above all, black iron beneath!
Viserys had actually hired the Golden Company?
Now Tormo no longer dared to gamble.
The Golden Company was infamous for its mercenary nature, but no one had ever doubted its strength.
Not only did they number more than ten thousand, they also possessed heavy cavalry and heavy infantry—true instruments of slaughter.
"Impossible… impossible… how did Viserys manage to hire the Golden Company?"
His emotions swung violently from peak to abyss.
Tormo's hands began to tremble.
His breathing grew faster and faster, until at last he could no longer hold on and collapsed, unconscious.
Quairo temporarily took over command and shouted to the others,
"All units, fortify your positions where you stand!"
He then ordered the raven keepers to send urgent messages to Braavos and Pentos requesting aid.
On the warship, Viserys let out a quiet sigh of relief as he looked at the crudely made Golden Company banner.
There were no skulls on it at all—just a few yellow circles.
Its only purpose was to frighten the Braavosi and Pentoshi.
Seeing the enemy dig in defensively, Davos felt a surge of relief as well, and could not help but admire Viserys's caution.
"Your Grace, I expect they'll soon send envoys to negotiate. What should we do next?"
Davos asked.
"They demanded five million gold dragons from us before, didn't they?" Viserys snorted. "Naturally, I must return the favor."
Davos was puzzled by the decision.
Surely now was the time to force the Braavosi and Pentoshi armies to leave Gohor as quickly as possible. Why provoke them further? What if the bluff were exposed?
Hearing Davos's concern, Viserys smiled.
"Right now, we've got fifty or sixty thousand of their troops by the throat. If we don't demand a king's ransom, they'll start to suspect something instead."
Davos thought it over and had to admit the logic.
He volunteered, "Your Grace, allow me to go to Braavos as your envoy."
With the advantage firmly on their side, Davos was confident he could secure favorable terms for Viserys.
But his proposal was refused.
"Ser Davos, things are different from a year ago. Freygo is the one who needs us now.
Once this war is over, I'll trouble you to fetch my mother and the others. After that, take a good rest—you've truly worked hard these past months."
Viserys's concern made Davos's nose sting.
Even his former lord, Stannis, let alone his wife, had never shown him such care.
The comparison felt slightly disrespectful to Viserys, yet Davos could not help but feel, from the bottom of his heart, grateful that he had found such a king.
How did His Grace ever notice an unknown man like me?
Davos's thoughts drifted back to the day he had still been a prisoner, crouched in a cell.
Viserys had appeared before him without warning. And from that moment on, the fate of his entire family had changed.
___________
Upto 20 chapters ahead on patreon :-
patreon.com/BloodAncestor