The sun gradually set, and another spring day on the plains of the Reach was about to end.
Nearly twenty miles west of the site of the one-sided bombardment that had taken place that morning, the massive Reach army made camp. Sixty thousand infantry, along with countless auxiliary personnel, formed a vast, sprawling camp that stretched to the horizon. At the center of this city-sized encampment, inside the tallest and most magnificent tent, the core members of the joint command had gathered. In a heavy and oppressive atmosphere, they tensely exchanged information and discussed new countermeasures.
This was a serious military meeting, yet many of those present were in a somewhat bewildered state, numb and dazed.
They should not have been here.
When they woke that morning, the great army had still been in its old camp some distance to the east, forming ranks and marching out with high morale and full confidence, determined to face the formidable enemy in a fierce, bloody battle and win a great victory worthy of being recorded in history.
But by evening, they had set up a new camp to the west, closer to Highgarden than they had been that morning. Their old camp had actually been occupied by Daenerys's army.
What confused them most was that they had not suffered a major defeat. Most of them had not even caught a glimpse of Daenerys's army.
The cannon-fodder bait in the vanguard routed less than half an hour after entering the battlefield, and had not even managed to lure the enemy in. This was still acceptable. The command had originally treated the plan to lure the enemy with the attitude of, "best if it works, no problem if it does not." If the enemy was not fooled, the next step would be to adjust their mindset, form up, and fight a conventional battle. However, the retreating vanguard not only brought back large numbers of lightly and severely wounded soldiers, but also brought back bad news: the firearms of Daenerys's army were far more powerful and numerous than expected, and their plowing-like killing pattern was especially effective against dense infantry formations.
Rowan's task had originally been to feign defeat and lure the enemy. He had no reason to exaggerate the enemy's strength to cover up his own defeat. Moreover, the words of the many wounded soldiers who had lost limbs, along with the remnants of the defeated troops, further confirmed his intelligence. Now, even within the command, they were caught in a dispute over whether to push forward despite the firepower or make long-term plans. Both sides had valid arguments, and King Aegor, who had the authority to make the final decision, was influenced by Hand Connington and could not decisively step forward to issue an order. With the delay caused by the back-and-forth debate, the troops could only repeatedly retreat before the constantly approaching trapezoidal formation of the Western Expeditionary Army. They withdrew until the sun was about to set, and only after the enemy also began setting up camp did they finally stabilize their position.
The Reachmen were bewildered. They had never encountered a situation like this, one that defied intuition and military common sense. They had clearly set a net that covered heaven and earth, completely surrounding the enemy and swallowing them whole like a dumpling, yet no matter what they did, they could not digest them. Even more incredibly, the enemy was instead churning inside their belly, enduring threats and pressure from all directions, and in just one day, advancing several more miles toward Highgarden within the encirclement of a hundred thousand troops.
Although the Western Expeditionary Army had already advanced hundreds of miles into the Reach before this, actively letting the enemy in and wanting to stop them but being unable to do so felt completely different.
To summarize the situation and feelings of the Reachmen in one sentence: they had wanted to let the enemy in, close the door, and beat the dog, only to discover that what had entered was a tiger. As everyone felt fear, an ominous premonition quietly arose in their hearts. That damned Night's Watchman seemed to have been sent by the heavens to counter them.
...
"The routed soldiers have all been rounded up and confined to a separate camp to avoid causing too much damage to the morale of the entire army," Randyll Tarly said, breaking the silence first. "This morning, I insisted on launching a strong attack according to the original plan, but Lord Mace insisted on proceeding cautiously. Heh, proceeding cautiously has its own methods. We can use cavalry on the flanks to contain the enemy's advance, just as we did today, fighting and retreating, and simply treat Highgarden and the best time for spring planting as acceptable sacrifices. As long as we cut off the food supply route on the Roseroad, those thirty thousand men deep in the heart of the Reach will starve to death under scorched-earth tactics."
"Treat Highgarden as an expendable pawn?"
Mace Tyrell's beard bristled with anger. After so many eastern vassals had abandoned their castles and answered the call for a scorched-earth retreat, he naturally could not say that his own castle was the only exception and absolutely could not be abandoned. After taking a couple of deep breaths, he recalled the proper way to phrase it. "But that is the capital of the Reach. Haven't we discussed this issue long ago? If Highgarden also falls, the Reachmen will find it impossible to maintain the morale to fight again. Moreover, once the spring planting season is missed, we might starve those thirty thousand men to death, but how many farmers throughout the Reach will have to be buried alongside them?"
"Morale, morale. Our army's morale was highest early this morning, so why didn't we engage?" Randyll threw the question back. He was holding back a fire in his heart and no longer cared about offending his liege lord. His own lands were exposed to the threat of the Dragon Queen's southern army and the Dornishmen. He had come all this way to fight for the so-called whole Reach, yet his liege lord and the King were not fighting properly. What was the point? "Even if we could not win today's decisive battle, we could at least have severely damaged the enemy's momentum and curbed their advance toward Highgarden. Do you all know how much morale is lost when a decisive battle is organized, everyone writes their wills, and then we suddenly retreat? In any case, my opinion is this: since we did not fight today, let us simply not fight at all. While the army is still intact and we still have leverage for negotiation, let us quickly concede and seek peace."
"Lord Randyll, calm yourself."
Jon Connington quickly took over from Randyll's angry words, preventing the meeting from escalating into a quarrel. What a joke. If the Reach truly sought peace with the Dragon Queen, he and the young King Aegor he was assisting would definitely be among the terms of the agreement, and even the Golden Company might be sold off entirely. Even if Randyll did not truly mean to seek peace, the topic absolutely could not be allowed to develop in that direction.
It was funny to say, but he had originally worried that today's unfavorable battle would cause friction and conflict between the local forces represented by the King and Queen. Who would have thought that the Reachmen themselves would start arguing first? It was truly a fact that House Tyrell had the weakest authority over its vassals among the great houses of the Seven Kingdoms.
"I must admit, your point is valid. Our army's morale was indeed highest this morning, and that kind of morale will be difficult to reproduce in the foreseeable future unless we win a battle. To win, we must boost morale, and to boost morale, we must first win a skirmish. But the opponent simply gives us no chance. This leads to a vicious cycle," Connington paused. "But from another perspective, what counts as victory? Must it necessarily rely on actively attacking and annihilating the enemy army?"
Under the gazes of more than a dozen pairs of eyes, the King's Hand, Connington, readily revealed the answer. "Abandoning Highgarden is impossible. Doing so would first cause internal division and collapse within our faction, so this plan is not up for discussion. As for the morale loss caused by not forcing an engagement despite the firepower today, it is already a foregone conclusion, and there is no use thinking about it further. Looking on the bright side, we at least gained useful combat intelligence through a probing action. If we can exchange the lost initiative for more targeted tactical arrangements, there is still a fight to be had."
"Next, please listen carefully. I spent the afternoon discussing some personal ideas with Lord Strickland and Lord Rowan."
"Cough." Harry Strickland nodded, cleared his throat with a cough, and began to speak. "I must explain beforehand that this set of countermeasures was primarily discussed and designed by Hand Connington and Ser Rowan. I merely provided military advice during the process."
This was not mere courtesy. In fact, the core ideas for the entire set of countermeasures mainly came from Rowan. It was just that the cannon-fodder vanguard he commanded that morning had routed in confusion, and as a defeated general, he was not suited to speak publicly. The commander of the Golden Company let out a long sigh and began his narration.
"After first learning that the enemy possessed highly effective anti-infantry methods and had adopted an unprecedented alternating march-and-advance formation, I felt as bewildered as everyone else," Harry began, expressing the same feeling. "After exchanging opinions with Hand Connington and calmly considering it, we analyzed where this bewilderment came from. That is, the enemy's methods perfectly countered our previously formulated hammer-and-anvil tactics, using anti-infantry cannons to prevent the infantry 'anvil' from forming at all, thus rendering the cavalry 'hammer' powerless. Therefore, the question we discussed next became simple: how should we break the enemy's counter to our hammer-and-anvil tactics?"
(To be continued.)
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