After most of the Northern Army knelt, the war ended.
The remaining resistance was quickly cleared, and the captives were gathered and guarded.
The Targaryen Soldiers began to silently clean up the battlefield.
In this era of low productivity, everything on the battlefield was a resource.
Scattered swords, spearheads, shields that weren't completely shattered, blood-stained leather armor, and even the clothes and shoes on the fallen... would all be collected.
Iron could be reforged, leather could be repaired, and linen could be washed.
The corpses of the Northern Army Soldiers were stripped of everything useful, stacked together naked, forming a pale, cold pile of bodies, waiting to be burned.
War strips away everything, including life and the last shred of dignity after death.
As for the fallen on their own side, the treatment was different.
The remains would be carefully collected, their names registered, buried individually, and marked with simple markers.
Their families would receive pensions.
This was the right of the victor and a necessity for maintaining army morale.
At the edge of the riverbank, beside a relatively clean large rock, a campfire crackled.
A skinned and cleaned young deer was skewered on a simple rack, sizzling as it roasted over the charcoal fire; grease dripped, sending up tiny flames.
Aegon sat on the stone, slowly and unhurriedly turning the wooden spit skewering the deer, letting the flames roast it evenly.
Not far behind him were the three ferocious dried-up ravines of the Green Fork, and further away, the piles of bodies being stacked, soon to be consigned to the flames.
The air was filled with the smell of blood and the increasingly rich aroma of roasted meat, mixing into an unsettling scent.
Aegon remained expressionless, as if he had long been accustomed to it.
To end the war as soon as possible, he had risen at dawn and ridden his dragon here, and he was now somewhat hungry.
The clanking of armor approached from a distance.
Henry and Commander Luke arrived together, clearly having finished handling the post-battle affairs to report.
The two saluted, but before they could speak, another Soldier stepped forward quickly and knelt on one knee: "Your Grace, Wylis Manderly among the captives, along with four other Northern lords who refused to surrender, have been brought here. Shall we interrogate them?"
Aegon raised an eyebrow, nodded slightly to Henry and the other, signaling them to wait.
"Bring them up."
Soon, the five bound Northern nobles were brought before the campfire.
They were ragged and stained with blood, but most held their heads high, especially Wylis, who led them; despite his pale face, his eyes held defiance.
Aegon's gaze landed on Wylis, and he tore off a small piece of charred, fragrant venison to test if it was cooked, saying casually: "A loyal one, indeed. Is Stark so worth you throwing your lives away?"
Wylis's throat moved, and his voice was hoarse but clear: "House Stark has shown great kindness to House Manderly. This is the duty of House Manderly."
Aegon glanced at him and said no more.
He had no intention of winning this man over, unlike the time with Davos Seaworth, where the situation required it and he could act accordingly.
He put down the stick he was using to poke the fire, brushed the non-existent dust from his hands, rested one hand on his knee, and swept his calm gaze over the five men.
"Since that is the case, I will fulfill your loyalty." He said in a flat tone, signaling the guards beside him.
The guards understood, stepped forward, and thrust several unsheathed swords into the ground before the five captives one by one.
"In light of your loyalty, I grant you a chance for dignity." Aegon's voice was without waves. "End your own lives."
Wylis's expression changed abruptly; clearly, he hadn't expected the other party to be so decisive, giving no room for persuasion or negotiation.
He stood still, his body stiff for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the sword blades stuck in the mud, then looking toward the direction of White Harbor; finally, it turned into a barely audible sigh.
He stepped forward and pulled up a sword; the cold touch made him shiver slightly.
"The North remembers." He shouted hoarsely, held the sword across his neck, and pulled hard.
Blood sprayed, and his body crashed to the ground.
Aegon watched the fallen Wylis and shook his head.
The last one who was this foolishly loyal seemed to be Davos.
It was just that the Nights Watch had asked for help at that time, and he had taken the opportunity to give him a chance. As for Wylis, he naturally didn't have such good luck.
Thinking of Davos, calculating the time, he had been leading nearly a thousand Soldiers north to reinforce the Wall for a while now; the strength of the Nights Watch had almost doubled, and the situation at the Wall should not be as difficult as it originally was.
He withdrew his thoughts and looked at the remaining four Northern lords.
They were pale, looking at Wylis's corpse, their bodies trembling slightly; the iron-willed demeanor they had before was now wavering significantly.
"And you?" Aegon asked, his tone still flat. "What are you waiting for? I gave you a chance to surrender, and you refused."
"In light of the loyalty you displayed, I also gave you a chance for dignity." His gaze grew colder.
"Still hesitating?"
The four looked at each other, and finally, a tall, thin lord with a goatee spoke, trembling:
"Respectful..." His tone paused, seemingly hesitating on how to address him.
"...Your Grace Targaryen, our houses are willing to pay a ransom to redeem our lives. We can swear not to be your enemy again, but... but surrendering..."
"Ransom?" Aegon interrupted him, the last trace of warmth in his voice vanishing. "I am willing to let you die with dignity; that is the greatest mercy."
"Don't forget, when the Targaryen were overthrown back then, you Northern lords contributed quite a bit. Old debts, I have yet to settle."
He waved his hand wearily.
Several Targaryen Soldiers immediately stepped forward.
A flash of blades, a short scream.
Blood sprayed, and the bodies were quickly dragged away, leaving only a few dark red drag marks on the mud.
Aegon acted as if he had merely waved away a few flies.
He picked up the wooden stick again, flipped the venison on the rack, grease dripped, and flames leapt up.
He turned to Henry and Commander Luke, who had been standing quietly to the side, a slightly more casual look returning to his face, and patted the stone beside him.
"Come, sit. Let's eat something together. I suppose you were busy reorganizing the military early in the morning and didn't have time for breakfast."
Henry and Commander Luke looked at the dried blood on the ground, then at His Grace, who looked as normal as ever; their throats moved, and their steps were somewhat hesitant.
Seeing this, Aegon smiled, especially toward Henry: "What? Have you forgotten the days of living and dying together in the Valyrian Ruins?"
"I remember back then, you even shared half of the only pie your mother made with me. Now you've become so reserved?"
Henry's eyes were complex.
Hain brothers... that was a long time ago.
Now before him was His Grace Aegon Targaryen, who rode a dragon and decided life and death with a single word.
There is a difference between superior and inferior.
But he ultimately stepped forward and sat slowly on the stone Aegon indicated, his posture still respectful.
Seeing this, Commander Luke hurriedly followed suit and sat beside Henry, his back straight as a board.
Aegon watched them still tense, a barely perceptible contemplation flashing deep within his violet eyes.
He said no more, used a dagger to cut off several large pieces of venison that were charred on the outside and tender on the inside, distributed them to the two, took one for himself, and ate without ceremony.
The three of them began to discuss serious matters over the simple food.
"The results of this battle have been initially counted." Commander Luke spoke first, his tone carrying the caution of a report.
"This Northern Army has about 8,000 infantry, plus about 3,000 cavalry personally led by Robb Stark. But Robb and his cavalry seem to have withdrawn under the cover of a feigned attack last night, leaving only these 8,000 infantry to cover the retreat."
"After yesterday's fierce battle and this morning's... deterrence, we have captured about 6,200 people, and the rest have either died in battle or scattered without a trace." Speaking of this, he looked ashamed and uneasy. "It is this subordinate's incompetence that I failed to hold back Robb Stark, letting him escape."
Aegon chewed the venison and waved his hand: "It's fine. If 3,000 light cavalry are determined to leave, you can't catch them, nor can you stop them."
His tone was flat, as if he didn't take Robb's escape to heart, and just as he was about to say something more...
A maester accompanying the army hurried over, his expression grave, presenting a small letter canister with both hands.
Aegon's eyebrows twitched slightly. That was the letter canister used for ravens.
He took it, unscrewed it, pulled out the note inside, and scanned it quickly.
After reading it, he slowly swallowed the last bite of venison, stood up, and clapped his hands.
"It seems this breakfast cannot be finished in peace." He handed the note casually to Henry beside him; his tone betrayed no joy or anger, only a hint of cold playfulness.
"This little wolf pup, his tricks are one after another, and it's very annoying. If I don't chop off all his claws, he won't stop."
Henry and Commander Luke hurriedly took the note, and upon seeing it, their expressions changed drastically.
A Northern Army, using some unknown method, had actually evaded all eyes and ears and was heading straight for Harrenhal!
That place was the core of the army's grain, supplies, and logistics; if it were lost...
"Your Grace!" Both stood up almost simultaneously, saying urgently, "We will immediately lead the army back to reinforce!"
Aegon raised his hand, stopping them.
"No need." He looked toward the direction of Harrenhal. "You stay here, properly handle the captives, clean up the battlefield, and then lead the army to Riverrun to join the Golden Company and take the castle as soon as possible."
He paused, his voice steady but carrying irrefutable determination: "Harrenhal, I will go myself."
"It is time to let this little wolf pup and his minions who think they are clever understand..."
Aegon turned and walked toward Ghidorah, the morning breeze fluttering his scarlet cloak.
"The wrath of the true dragon is not something they can provoke at will."
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