In the middle of the night, Sansa was awakened by a commotion. Apparently the Alliance camp was under attack.
An armored Northerner entered the queen's tent. It was Ser Rickon, the commander of Sansa's personal bodyguard. The black-haired, weather-beaten knight bore the same name as the younger of her two dead brothers, the one who had been murdered by Ramsay.
"What's going on, Ser?", Sansa wanted to know.
"Dothraki, Your Grace", replied Rickon. "They are shooting arrows at the camp from the darkness. However, there is no danger for you. We are far out of range."
Sansa nodded. The alliance camp was the size of a city.
"Out of range for the mounted archers, you mean. Daenerys, however, might try to surprise us with Drogon under cover of darkness. Are the mirror lamps lit?"
"That is being taken care of right now", Rickon said with a grim smile. "We're going to use a couple of the lights to illuminate the area around the camp. Let's see how brave the Dothraki are when our archers can see them."
In the early stages of the war, Daenerys had often made night raids on Alliance positions. When dense clouds obscured the moon and stars and the dragon approached silently in gliding flight, there was absolutely no warning before the deadly firestorm began.
Fortunately, an inventive maester had come up with a solution to this problem: the light of a large fire was bundled into a beam with the help of a large, slightly curved mirror that could be swiveled in all directions.
Sansa threw on a coat and stepped out of the tent. Several dozen mirror lamps threw their light hundreds of meters into the night sky. The cones of light moved slowly back and forth. It was a sight as haunted as it was awe-inspiring.
The queen walked quickly to the command tent. It stood on the hill around which the Alliance had camped.
Lord Royce and his staff stood in front of the tent.
"Your Grace", he greeted Sansa. "Don't worry, we'll get this little disruption under control quickly."
Sansa saw swarms of incendiary arrows pounding on the outside of the camp and men scurrying around like ants trying to put out burning tents.
"It looks worse than it is", said Royce. "See, the first mirror lamps are already aimed at the attackers."
In fact, the darkness around the camp was now illuminated by beams of light. In the distance, Sansa saw the Dothraki horsemen, which the Alliance troops could now fire on. Deprived of their cover, the enemy soon withdrew.
"Shall we pursue them?", asked Lord Gendry.
"No way", Royce replied firmly. "The Dothraki are just trying to test us, but if we chase after them they will try to ambush us. You should know by now, my young Lord of Storm's End, that these savages don't care about chivalric terms of honor."
The rest of the night passed quietly. In the morning the Alliance army was in battle formation, the rising sun behind them. Thousands of banners fluttered in the wind. It was a magnificent sight.
Sansa's gaze wandered west to where the Imperials had positioned themselves. A telescope was handed to her. The Queen noticed that the armor and clothing of the Imperial soldiers resembled those of the Unsullied, but were unmistakably different. The helmets, for example, lacked the characteristic spike of the slave warriors. The face masks were also missing. The lancers wore heavy lamellar armor, the light infantrymen wore chain mail and dark gray tunics over them. Everything about the Imperial uniforms was dark gray, even the helmets. Only the black leather boots were an exception.
"They look impressive", said Sansa dryly. She returned the telescope and turned to the assembled troops. Of course, only a small part of the five hundred thousand-man army was within earshot.
"Today we're going to show the Dragon Empress that she can't just take everything she wants", began the Queen of the North without a long preface. "Today we have the opportunity to put an end to her bloodthirsty activities. Today we will fight for the freedom of our homeland, regardless of whether it is the North, the Six Kingdoms or one of the Free Cities. Long live the Alliance!"
Norsemen, southerners and citizens of the Free Cities cheered Sansa. It was clear that they could hardly wait for the fight. And then Lord Royce gave the signal to attack.