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Chapter 47 The Battle (Part 2)

Dawn over the Trident River was silent. The usual chorus of birds in the woods had vanished entirely; the entire river valley hummed with the threat of death. The mist in the air seemed to freeze, and tension hung thick over the basin below.

"Are the men ready?" Owen asked, stepping out of his tent. He wore leather armor, with his greatbow and quiver slung across his back, his two swords at his waist, and his helmet in hand. He glanced at Ser Wendel, who was gathering his men to march out of the camp.

"All prepared, ser. We can move out and fight at any moment," Ser Wendel replied.

True to his Manderly heritage—lords of White Harbor—Ser Wendel's gear was far more imposing than Owen's. He wore full plate armor, a closed-face helmet, and every piece was forged from fine steel.

"Where's Ser Halton?" Owen asked, scanning the area and seeing no sign of the Karstark knight.

"He's probably already led his men out of the camp," Ser Wendel said.

"Eager, isn't he?" Owen chuckled. "You'd best lead your men out too. Today, we take on the old lion."

"Yes, ser." Ser Wendel turned and rushed toward his waiting troops. Moments later, the knight's voice boomed: "Men of White Harbor—with me! Form up outside the camp!"

At his command, the Northern soldiers moved swiftly, marching out of the camp. Once they reached the base of the bluff, Ser Wendel ordered them into a tight battle formation—one that stood in perfect alignment with Halton's already deployed men.

"Jon, take the remaining infantry and form up in front of the caltrops outside the camp. While I'm gone, hold that line firm. I'll come to command you myself when the time is right," Owen told Jon, who stood at his side.

"Yes, ser." Jon nodded.

Soon, the last of the Northern infantry marched out of the camp under Jon's lead, forming a solid line before the caltrops.

"Ser Gavin, have the archers gather behind the caltrops first. Keep the trebuchets hidden in the camp—we'll use them only when the enemy infantry charges," Owen called for Ser Gavin and issued his orders.

"At your command, Ser Owen," Ser Gavin replied, hurrying off to carry them out.

With all arrangements made, Owen stepped out of the camp and stood behind the caltrops, gazing across the field at the opposite bluff. Already, he could hear movement from the Lannister side.

"Have our scouts found their cavalry yet?" Tywin asked the lord beside him.

"No, my lord. We've searched every spot where an army could hide—there's nothing," the lord replied, his face grim.

"Then where are their horsemen? Or have they split their forces?" Tywin muttered to himself.

"No matter. The enemy is on the move. Order our men to form up and prepare to attack. If we defeat these Northerners here, their cavalry—no matter how strong—can't turn the tide," Tywin told his lords.

"Yes, Lord Tywin!" the lords replied, bowing and hurrying off.

"Send word to Tyrion. Tell him to ready his savages for the vanguard," Tywin added, not forgetting his earlier order. He turned to a squire standing nearby.

Inside his tent, Tyrion was still fast asleep—naked, clutching Shae.

Bronn stormed into the tent and tossed a half-set of armor onto Tyrion, jolting him awake.

"What in the seven hells are you doing?" Tyrion groaned, disoriented and staring up at Bronn.

"Sleep much longer, and the battle'll be over," Bronn said, looking down at the naked dwarf. "Your father the Duke has ordered the entire army to form up and attack. He even sent a squire to tell us—we're leading the charge." With that, Bronn turned to leave.