It went surprisingly smoothly.
Arthur watched as the Burning Men Tribe warriors of the High Mountain Clan, who had been charging towards the village entrance, finally understood the current situation.
They all froze there.
He couldn't help but exclaim, "If barbarians don't use their brains, they'll be barbarians their whole lives!"
He had already prepared for the worst, for a close-quarters night battle, but he didn't expect these barbarians to remain completely still all night!
It wasn't that Arthur didn't want to launch a night raid; it was mainly that he wasn't very confident in his Plainsmen soldiers for close-quarters combat.
He had an impression of the High Mountain Clan; Tyrion rated them very highly.
Especially the Burning Men Tribe; every tribe of the High Mountain Clan feared the Burning Men Tribe. It was said that they proved their courage through self-mutilation.
They either burned off their nipples, or their fingers, or even their ears. In short, to declare themselves adults, they had to burn off one of their body parts.
Tyrion heard that the current war leader, "Red Hand" Teme, had gouged out his own left eye with a red-hot iron dagger.
He was quite alarmed last night when he learned from the refugees that the opponents were the Burning Men Tribe.
But he didn't expect the enemy, facing a numerically superior force, not to choose to break through or attack while the Plainsmen were still getting established.
Arthur immediately ordered his troops overnight to dig trenches and set up fences at the only exit from the village to the outside world.
This was not a complex military engineering feat; it was merely the construction of a simple defensive line in a short time, using readily available wood, farm tools, and earth from the surroundings.
This was Arthur's first time commanding a battle, and he was still a bit nervous.
But the combat strength was three hundred against forty; the advantage was with us!
"Enemy attack!" "Archers, prepare!" "Infantry, form ranks!" Lucien and Hakon were galloping on horseback, shouting.
However, the anticipated scene did not occur.
He had originally envisioned the scene where the Burning Men Tribe warriors would roar and charge towards the makeshift fortifications through a rain of arrows, attempting to leap over the trenches and hack at the wood with their weapons.
His Plainsmen soldiers, meanwhile, would continuously attack with long spears from behind the fortifications, and any Burning Men Tribe warriors who managed to get over would be dealt with by axemen and swordsmen.
However, nothing happened.
The Burning Men Tribe warriors, who had been charging wildly as if unstoppable, suddenly and abruptly stopped when they saw the trenches and fences before them.
The few Burning Men Tribe warriors at the very front leaned forward due to immense inertia, but their feet were firmly planted on the ground.
The warriors behind them also stopped immediately, and their previously tight charging formation instantly became loose and chaotic.
They remained in their charging stances, but were frozen like statues at the village entrance, still gripping their weapons.
The sneers on their faces hadn't completely faded before they were replaced by a clear, incredulous bewilderment.
They widened their eyes, looking at the scene before them: the shallow trench, the crooked wooden fence.
And behind the fence, the Plainsmen soldiers who should have been scattering and fleeing, crying for mercy, were now holding their weapons, calmly waiting for them.
After an awkwardly eerie silence, someone finally broke the stalemate.
A tall Burning Men Tribe warrior with particularly noticeable burn scars on his face pushed aside his companions and strode confidently towards Arthur and his men.
The archers aimed their bows at him, waiting for the command to fire!
He carried an inherent defiance and contempt for the Plainsmen, as if the trenches, fences, and the archers aiming at him simply didn't exist.
He walked to the edge of the trench, holding a spiked wooden club, and looked at the Riverlands soldiers behind the fence with a challenging gaze.
He did not attempt to cross or destroy the fortifications, but instead shouted loudly:
"Hey! You Plainsmen hiding behind the wood! Who is your leader? Step out!"
His voice echoed in the quiet morning air, carrying a primal demand for a fair duel.
In his opinion, three hundred against forty was already an absolute numerical advantage, and now hiding behind fortifications was simply an act of cowardice.
Arthur stood on a high mound behind the crowd, watching a Burning Men Tribe warrior simply walk up to them and demand a fair duel in an open formation.
He just walked straight over like that; how presumptuous.
Arthur:....
Seeing this scene, Arthur's previously tense body completely relaxed.
"Archers!" Arthur's voice was clear and strong, carrying an undeniable command, "Fire!"
The archers immediately obeyed. They had already nocked their arrows, aiming tightly at the target in front, awaiting Lord Arthur's command.
As soon as Lord Arthur gave the order, more than a dozen bowstrings were released almost simultaneously, and arrows flew!
"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!"
A rain of arrows, whistling through the air, instantly flew over the fence towards the Burning Men Tribe warrior standing at the edge of the trench, still shouting demands for a fair, open duel.
That Burning Men Tribe warrior might still have been expecting the leader of these Plainsmen to step out, or at least respond to his provocation.
Or perhaps ignore him, allowing him to mock the weakness of this Plainsmen warrior leader.
But he had absolutely no idea that what he would receive was such a direct and ruthless response.
There was even a hint of disdain on his face.
He had no time to make any evasive moves.
Nearly a dozen arrows hit him almost simultaneously.
Some struck his beast armor, making dull thuds, but more mercilessly pierced his body, striking his chest, stomach, and limbs.
His front was riddled with arrows from the close-range volley, making him look like a hedgehog.
The shouts in his mouth ceased abruptly, and his body twisted from the intense pain.
The spiked wooden club in his hand clattered to the ground.
He widened his eyes in disbelief, looking at the arrows embedded in his body.
It seemed that even until his death, he couldn't understand why these Plainsmen would act so unconventionally.
Because the Plainsmen he had met all adhered to the elusive so-called chivalry.
But why would this army so basely use bows to ambush a warrior who was demanding a fair fight from a distance?
Then, his body went limp and he fell backward with a thud at the edge of the trench, never to stir again.
The Burning Men Tribe warriors were enraged. They had encountered other Plainsmen armies before, but they had never seen such a shameless Plainsmen leader!
To actually ambush a warrior.
They had also encountered other Iron Men, even Iron Men Knights, in the Valley, and they all adhered to the so-called chivalry.
Yet these people, facing a huge numerical advantage, built fortifications and ambushed a brave warrior!
"Archers, nock and prepare!" Arthur continued to command.
He saw that Lucien and Hakon also seemed somewhat puzzled.
Arthur didn't explain. Why should there be rules in war? And why demand a fair fight in an open formation?
This was simply a huge joke; he had never heard such a foolish and unreasonable demand!
War itself is inherently unfair; there is always one side that is stronger and one that is weaker.