Beneath the silent night sky, the bright moon hung high overhead, casting a pale blue glow across the snow-covered horizon.
At the height of that eerie stillness, a sharp whistle suddenly pierced the night.
The shrill sound of the signal arrow instantly alerted the already wary Lannister army.
"They've caught up!"
Kevan Lannister sprang to his feet, one hand gripping the hilt of his sword.
As soon as the words left his mouth, scattered torchlights appeared among the distant trees, illuminating half the forest with a crimson glow.
"Lead the retreat."
"Don't panic."
Tywin Lannister rose calmly, brushing the snow from his shoulders.
His voice remained cold and steady.
"Everything depends on this battle."
Kevan said nothing more.
Silently, he drew the sword at his waist and gave a solemn nod.
Tywin also unsheathed Longclaw, fastened his helmet, and exchanged one final glance with his brother.
Neither of them spoke.
Both understood that their future would be decided before dawn.
---
Within the forest, the Northern army advanced with torches in hand.
They spread into a broad semicircle, slowly tightening the encirclement around their prey.
Their pace was deliberately measured, almost as though they feared frightening the enemy into fleeing too soon.
"Is this really going to work?"
Beside Robb, Galbart Glover, Lord of Deepwood Motte, couldn't hide the concern in his voice.
Rather than answering immediately, Robb Stark glanced behind him.
A second force waited silently in the darkness.
Unlike the soldiers carrying torches, they remained completely hidden.
Only the moonlight reflecting off the snow revealed their faint outlines.
Their weapons gleamed coldly beneath the pale light.
Nearby, Grey Wind, now nearly waist-high, let out a soft whine.
Robb gently stroked the direwolf's head.
"If Tywin is stubborn enough to stay here..."
"Wouldn't that be exactly what we want?"
He smiled calmly.
"Lord Galbart."
"Be patient."
"We'll catch him."
Just then...
Grey Wind suddenly barked.
At the same instant, the air filled with the unmistakable whistle of arrows.
The battle had begun.
Without another word, Robb patted Grey Wind's neck.
"Go."
Like a streak of silver, the direwolf vanished into the snowy forest.
---
The prepared Lannister soldiers quickly formed defensive lines to block the Northern forces emerging from the woods.
Meanwhile, the troops in the rear began withdrawing in an orderly fashion.
To improve visibility in the darkness, several nearby houses were deliberately set ablaze.
Unfortunately for the Lannisters...
The flames also made them perfect targets.
Before the Northern soldiers even reached the village, volleys of arrows rained down toward every figure illuminated by the firelight.
Night shooting was notoriously inaccurate.
Even so...
Some unlucky men were struck.
Screams echoed across the battlefield as the first casualties of the night fell.
Moments later...
The Northern soldiers charged through the burning streets.
Close-quarters combat erupted.
---
A young Stark soldier from the lands surrounding the White Knife rushed from the forest just in time to see a Lannister soldier hurl a grease-soaked torch onto the roof of a wooden house.
The thatched roof ignited almost instantly.
The snow melted beneath the flames.
Grease spread the fire even faster.
Within seconds, the entire building was burning.
"Damn you!"
The young Northerner roared.
He raised his spear and hurled it with all his strength.
Unfortunately...
His aim was poor.
The spear missed completely, embedding itself in a nearby tree instead.
The Lannister soldier jumped in fright.
Seeing his throw fail, the furious Northerner no longer hesitated.
Drawing his sword, he charged straight ahead.
The Lannister had only just thrown his torch.
He barely had time to react.
Instead of drawing his own sword, he instinctively swung the burning torch toward the charging enemy.
It accomplished nothing.
Rather than slowing down...
The Northern soldier accelerated.
At the last second, he lowered his shoulder and threw his entire body forward.
The impact was devastating.
His iron shoulder plate crashed directly into the Lannister's chest.
The torch missed entirely.
The Lannister soldier was sent flying backward.
He crashed onto the ground, and the back of his helmet struck the stone steps of the very house he had set ablaze.
Without the helmet...
His skull would likely have shattered.
Even with it...
The impact left him completely dazed.
His borrowed armor offered little protection.
After fleeing into the North, proper equipment had become a luxury.
All he wore now was an old, worn breastplate.
It kept out some of the cold.
It provided little real defense.
Against the powerful Northerner, it was nowhere near enough.
The collision drove the air from his lungs.
His vision blurred.
His mind spun.
Before he could recover...
The Northern soldier was already on top of him.
In one smooth motion, he drew the dagger from his belt.
Grabbing the Lannister by the helmet...
He forced his head backward.
The freezing blade slid effortlessly into the exposed neck.
The sensation was quick...
Clean...
Merciless.
A moment later...
The dagger twisted sideways.
Hot blood burst from the wound, splashing across the muddy snow before quickly disappearing into the slush.
The farmer's son had claimed his first kill.
---
No sooner had he stood than another sword swept toward his head.
He rolled forward just in time, narrowly avoiding the strike.
Behind him...
The dying Lannister clutched desperately at his ruined throat.
His legs twitched a few times.
Then...
He lay still.
Of course, the Lannisters weren't the only side with reinforcements.
The first spear had missed.
But another Northern soldier arrived immediately afterward.
Unlike his companion...
He didn't rush recklessly.
Instead, he calmly leveled his spear.
One precise thrust.
The point drove straight through the chest of a Lannister whose back happened to be exposed.
The battle had barely begun...
Yet the Lannister formation was already collapsing.
---
The fighting quickly turned into a relentless pursuit through the Wolfswood.
The fires the Lannisters had left behind failed to slow Robb's army in the slightest.
Like wolves chasing wounded prey...
The exhausted Northerners continued pressing forward without mercy.
Every mile of snow became stained with blood.
The crimson footprints were trampled beneath countless boots.
Bodies littered the forest trail like grim milestones.
Few realized they were being deliberately herded toward Deepwood Motte.
Those who did...
Said nothing.
---
By dawn, the long pursuit finally reached its intended destination.
Deepwood Motte.
When Kevan Lannister, his face stained with frozen blood and his sword coated in crimson ice, entered the wooden fortress...
He stopped in disbelief.
The settlement was empty.
Completely abandoned.
Built upon a small hill, the timber fort wasn't particularly impressive.
Its gates stood wide open.
The muddy streets contained no people.
Household belongings remained neatly arranged inside abandoned homes.
It looked as though everyone had calmly packed their belongings and left long ago.
It was a ghost town.
"The Ironborn..."
"They've already taken it?"
Kevan's heart sank.
Even as he asked the question...
His voice trembled.
The silence surrounding them answered everything.
This had all been planned.
Their expected reinforcements...
Never existed.
They had been deceived.
This wasn't salvation.
It was a trap.
---
Just then...
The thunder of galloping horses echoed from a nearby forest road.
Hope briefly flickered within Kevan.
He raised his head.
But instead of the golden kraken banners of House Greyjoy...
He saw the silver direwolf of House Stark flying proudly against a white field.
Hidden cavalry burst from the forest.
The mounted knights lowered their swords.
Their warhorses carried them forward with unstoppable momentum.
Steel flashed.
Every swing effortlessly carved through flesh.
Watching the massacre unfold...
The last traces of confidence vanished from Kevan's face.
His legs gave way.
He collapsed onto the frozen ground.
His face turned deathly pale.
Then—
Smack!
A hard slap struck him across the face.
"Get a hold of yourself!"
Tywin's voice thundered beside him.
"If the Greyjoys were here..."
"They would've warned the enemy long ago!"
"Break west!"
"Fight west!"
"That's our only chance to survive!"
---
From their defeat in the Riverlands...
To imprisonment...
To exile at the Wall...
To wearing the black...
Kevan had endured one humiliation after another.
They had been treated like criminals.
Like laborers.
Then Robert Baratheon died.
Hope returned.
But somehow...
Their plans had been exposed.
Forced into open rebellion, they murdered Jeor Mormont, seized what men they could, gathered strength among House Umber's lands, and tried to rebuild their fortunes.
Months of hiding...
Running...
And constant pursuit...
Had slowly crushed Kevan's spirit.
Tywin, however...
Never wavered.
If anything...
His confidence had only grown stronger.
He had long noticed his brother's crumbling morale.
That single slap...
Combined with his commanding voice...
Finally shattered Kevan's despair.
The brothers instinctively turned toward the west.
Their only path to survival lay there.
After all...
The Ironborn had landed along the Stony Shore.
Yet even that hope was threatened.
Another Northern force had already moved to block their escape.
"They've surrounded us."
"This entire battlefield was prepared in advance."
Kevan immediately understood Robb Stark's strategy.
Every step of the retreat...
Every wave of pursuit...
Every exhausting mile through the forest...
Had been carefully planned.
Deepwood Motte...
Was the true trap.
---
More and more Lannister soldiers poured into the cramped wooden settlement.
Behind them came relentless Northern pursuers.
Ahead...
Fresh Stark troops waited in perfect formation.
Unlike the exhausted fugitives...
These men were fully rested.
Their morale remained high.
After months of constant retreat...
Followed by an entire night of desperate flight...
The Lannister army finally broke.
Panic spread through the ranks.
"The west is blocked!"
"The north is still open!"
Kevan quickly surveyed the battlefield.
But Tywin immediately shook his head.
"No."
"That's the real trap."
"If we want to live..."
"We fight through the west."
Without another word...
Tywin raised the bloodstained Longclaw high into the air.
Then he pushed through the frightened soldiers.
"Follow me!"
His voice rang across the battlefield.
Everywhere he went...
His sword rose and fell.
Northern soldiers who stood in his path were cut down one after another.
His fearless advance inspired the men around him.
Confused soldiers instinctively rallied behind him.
Unlike the northern escape route...
The western blockade consisted mostly of infantry.
Using the slope surrounding Deepwood Motte...
Tywin led a furious charge directly into the weakest point of the encirclement.
Blood sprayed through the air.
Steel clashed endlessly.
Cries and curses blended into a single deafening roar.
Whether by fortune...
Or because the western line truly had been weaker...
Tywin broke through.
The surviving Lannister soldiers surged after him like floodwaters escaping a broken dam.
The retreat that had once headed north suddenly turned sharply toward the west.
---
"Something's wrong!"
Robb Stark immediately noticed the unexpected movement.
"Why are they heading west?"
His expression darkened.
"That wasn't part of the plan."
"Lord Roose Bolton was supposed to be holding that position."
"How could a gap appear there?"
"Damn it."
He immediately changed his orders.
"Forget the original plan!"
"Attack with everything we've got!"
"We intended to keep driving them all the way to the western coast before delivering the final blow."
"But Tywin has seen through our strategy."
"We can't allow them to escape."
"From this moment on..."
"No matter the cost..."
"We destroy the Lannister army here."
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)