The red-and-white giant dragon flying in the sky merely circled overhead, showing no intention of attacking even as the armies of both sides were about to clash.
As Lord Wright had said, the pacification army could now relax and focus on defense.
The number of cavalry charging was considerable, but the Dorne cavalry was unlike those from inland areas. Due to the hot weather, their horses were only equipped with saddles and small cloth pieces embroidered with family crests, and typically lacked metal armor. By common convention, Dornish cavalry were considered light cavalry.
"Quick! Move the pike formation to the right!" shouted Lord Daeron Vaith as he mounted his horse. "Archers, fire!"
Cavalry attacked from both flanks, and the once continuous line broke in the middle, splitting into two groups to face the oncoming charge.
A volley of arrows shot out from the pacification army's position, and at the same time, the charging cavalry loosed their own arrows.
The soldiers in the formation, facing the storm of arrows, held their ground and could not afford to break formation. They could only shuffle around to dodge. Some were lucky enough not to be hit in vital spots and, after breaking their arrows, continued to fight. Others were killed on the spot, and after their bodies were carried away, their places were filled.
The cavalry had more maneuverability, and a small change in direction allowed them to avoid most of the arrows. However, many were still shot down, falling from their horses and dying in the scorching desert without even reaching the enemy.
Lord Daeron Vaith had only about two hundred cavalry under his command, and charging now would be suicide. He could only wait for the enemy to make contact with the pike formation before he and his men would strike from the side. He rode around his forces, rallying the morale, glancing toward the oncoming cavalry. After confirming his observations, he shouted at his soldiers, "They have no infantry support. If we hold off the cavalry, victory is ours!"
"Roar!!" The officers and soldiers also cheered themselves on.
From the gatehouse to the upper reaches of the Vance River, there were no water sources or towns along the way, just desert and canyons. This time, Naemelia had launched her attack with the element of surprise in mind, leaving all the infantry behind and concentrating all the cavalry from Houses Uller and Qorgyle to march east.
Even with only cavalry, the combined forces of the two powerful houses numbered over 3,000, whereas the pacification army had only the small Gargalen and Vaith, with just 500 cavalry and 4,000 soldiers and logistics personnel combined. As they looked at the massive cavalry force coming toward them, they were prepared to die.
By now, no one was paying attention to Jorah and Tyrion. Jorah knelt in the sand, wielding his Valyrian steel sword, Longclaw, digging a pit. Every time he made the hole larger, sand poured in, filling it back up. No matter how hard he dug, it would not go deep.
In frustration, Jorah grabbed Tyrion and threw him into the pit, then started piling sand over him, saying, "I hope they don't find you. If I die, remember to send the ransom money to Bear Island!"
Tyrion, tossed into the pit, got a mouthful of sand. As he turned over, he saw Jorah preparing to bury him first. Sand kept flowing into the pit. Covering his eyes with his hands, Tyrion shouted, "I appreciate the gesture, but we don't need a pit. The dragon hasn't attacked!"
"Huh?"
Jorah, who had seen the red-and-white dragon destroy walls with dragonfire in Tyrosh and melt the entire inner city into magma, was terrified when it appeared overhead. When Tyrion suggested hiding in a pit, Jorah had frantically started digging. But hearing Tyrion now, he turned to look at the sky.
"Why isn't the dragon attacking?" Jorah knew that the beast was not even afraid of heavy crossbows, and there were no heavy crossbows here.
"I can't control dragons! I don't know! Maybe Dornish meat doesn't taste good!" Tyrion was now buried up to his neck, with more sand continuously filling the pit. "Get me out of here!"
Jorah turned back, grabbed Tyrion by the shoulders, and yanked him out of the sand.
Jorah: "No one's paying attention to us now. Do we run?"
"I can't outrun a horse," Tyrion said, heading for a nearby wagon that had no horses. He rummaged through it and found two water skins, tossing one to Jorah before opening the other to drink deeply.
"As a lord of Bear Island, I refuse to die of thirst!" Jorah, his lips cracked from the dry heat, also began drinking.
Boom!
"Kill!"
The cavalry on both sides had collided with the pike formation, and the battlefield erupted with the sounds of combat.
Tyrion: "I suggest you put your sword away. When we surrender, it'll be easier to raise our hands."
Jorah stopped halfway while sheathing his sword, then drew it out again. "I don't think so! We're neutral in this mess, and this sword might be the only thing that identifies me in this chaotic battlefield!"
"True! My height is my symbol of identity!" After drinking enough water, Tyrion climbed onto the wagon to observe the battlefield, and Jorah followed him, standing beside him.
The most striking figure on the battlefield was, of course, Ashara Dayne. The noise of the battle drowned out her screams as she charged into the pike formation, her entire body engulfed in magical flames. Wearing sturdy armor, she began to swing her twin swords, cutting down soldiers left and right.
The pikes that struck her were blocked by her armor, and the soldiers tried to pin her down with multiple pikes. However, as soon as the pikes came into contact with the magical flames, they quickly turned red, softened, and began to burn. The pikes soon became useless, their tips reduced to charred, firewood sticks.
Ashara noticed that the most difficult enemies to deal with were the fully armored knights, as she had to use flames to enhance her weapons in order to break through their armor. But against the unarmored Dornish soldiers, she didn't need to do much. Both Dawn and Dark Sister were top-tier weapons, easily cutting through enemies in two slices. She switched her flame cloak for a more refined lightning cloak, and electricity crackled from the tips of her swords, forming five to six-meter-long whips of lightning. With every swing, the swords became whips, proving particularly effective in the dense crowds of soldiers.
As Ashara continued to cut through the masses, each crack of her lightning whips struck down dozens of soldiers. They would have a tiny, blackened wound on their skin, but their insides, scorched by the magical current, would be charred beyond recognition. Their bodies collapsed, emitting smoke as they hit the ground.
With each swing of her swords, a terrifying hum rang through the air.
Tyrion: "Impressive! The Five-Strike Lightning Whip!"
Jorah: "Don't think I don't know what this is. It's the Lightning Cloak! She just modified her sword techniques into whip strikes."
The two most idle individuals on the battlefield now turned to look at another part of the field.
The cavalry clashed, and leading them was a black-armored female knight. Her black spear would take a soldier's life with every strike, each blow piercing the skull with precision and force. After each successful strike, she immediately pulled her spear back and aimed it at the next enemy. When there were too many enemies gathered, she would sweep her spear in a wide arc. Anyone who was hit would either lose their head or be forced to bend down to avoid the blow, but in the chaos of battle, bending over almost always meant death, as other riders would pierce their bodies with long spears.
"Is that spear made of Valyrian steel?" Jorah wondered, noticing that even soldiers wearing helmets were pierced effortlessly by the spear.
Tyrion was surprised and looked at Jorah. "You don't know? Lord Wright acquired the weapons and armor of Euron and forged the Valyrian steel spear White Crow. How did you miss that?"
Jorah shrugged. "I'm more concerned with longswords."
Tyrion gave him a skeptical look. "You should pay more attention now. Lord Wright forges his own Valyrian steel, and there will be more weapons made from it in the future. King Robert's weapon, Discord, is a massive war hammer made of Valyrian steel."
Jorah shrugged again. "No matter how good the weapons are, it's only through battle that people will care about them. Otherwise, they're just ornaments hanging from nobles' belts. But after today, everyone will know the name of the 'White Crow.'"
Tyrion: "It's not just the spear, though. There's also the Valyrian steel armor she's wearing, the one with the chin of Euron. The only person wielding the White Crow spear now is Nymeria. People used to know her only as the Lord's wife, the illegitimate daughter of Prince Oberyn. If the war goes well, another queen from Dorne, named Nymeria, will rise!"
Jorah looked confused. "A queen? But there's still Doran, Oberyn, and Trystane."
Tyrion pointed at the dragon flying overhead. "If my analysis is correct, the real force behind this Dornish civil war is House Baratheon. They want to solve the Dorne issue in a legitimate manner and pass on Dorne's bloodline to Lord Wright. As for the three you mentioned, they will disappear at some point."
Jorah: "I don't believe Lord Wright is the type of person to do that."
Tyrion explained, referring to Tywin's analysis: "Everyone knows Wright dislikes scheming and prefers straightforwardness. We know what his three brothers are like after all these years. But the current Hand of the King is Mathis Rowan, a master of strategy. He's the one behind all these ideas!"
"Yes, it must be him!" Jorah, unfamiliar with the new Hand of the King, had only heard the name. After Tyrion explained, it seemed plausible.
"Charge!"
"My lord, our soldiers are still here!"
Lord Tremond: "If we kill Nymeria, we will be credited with the victory. If we don't, we will all die! Charge!"
The pike formation entangled with the cavalry of the King's army, while in the rear, the few cavalry of the pacification army began their charge. Under the leadership of Lord Tremond and Lord Daeon, seeing the imminent collapse of the line, they no longer cared about friendly fire and broke through their own line from the rear to charge at Nymeria.
Nymeria, clad in the invulnerable Valyrian steel armor, was unscathed by the pikes that struck her. But there were too many enemies surrounding her, and after killing one, another would immediately take their place. However, she was not alone; elite warriors surrounded her.
Lord Harmen Uller and his brother, Ser Ulwyck Uller, were not far from her. Seeing Nymeria surrounded, they spurred their horses and rushed toward her with their personal guard.
The Valyrian steel sword Heartsbane in Dickon Tarly's hand was also cutting down enemies with a single strike. The Dragon Guard around him were all carefully selected, battle-hardened soldiers who had undergone special, rigorous training. However, their weaknesses were apparent—they lacked experience in mounted combat.
The Tyroshi didn't have cavalry, a problem that Wright couldn't solve at the moment. Dickon had practiced horsemanship in his youth, but after coming to Tyrosh, he focused on other studies and neglected his equestrian skills. Riding again now, he was somewhat out of practice. Nevertheless, he didn't falter in his task. A group of Dragon Guard formed a protective circle around Nymeria, holding back attacks from her flank.
"Oh!" Jorah suddenly shouted.
"What's wrong?" Tyrion, too short to see much in the chaos of the battlefield, quickly asked.
Jorah pointed toward Nymeria's direction. "Lord Tremond's warhorse has fallen. I don't think he'll survive."
Tyrion asked, "What about Lord Daeon?"
Jorah looked around, searching for the three black leopard banners of Lord Daeon, and soon spotted his fallen guards. The banner was skewed, stuck into the sand, and quickly knocked over by soldiers. "I don't think he's alive either!"
With the death of the two family leaders, the pacification army continued to fight desperately. As more and more soldiers died, the lines were shrinking, and the once-separated forces were now converging in the middle, bringing the battlefield closer to Jorah and Tyrion's position.
"Surrender!"
"Never!"
The commanders shouted across the lines as the battle raged on. On one side, the cavalry, all Dornish, didn't want to continue fighting, while on the defending side, also Dornish, surrender was seen as a huge disgrace, and they would rather die fighting than yield.
The line kept closing in, and Jorah, not wanting to die, pulled Tyrion into the heart of the crowd.
Seeing that surrender was futile, Nymeria immediately ordered her forces to continue the assault. Some of her cavalry dismounted and formed shield walls, pushing forward. Others circled the outer edge, shooting arrows into the masses. It had become a complete encirclement.
The soldiers trapped in the middle of the pacification army were dying in increasing numbers. The youngest men on the outermost edge were all killed, and then the older soldiers took their place. When they fell, only archers and women were left.
Jorah and Tyrion were trapped in the crowd, and if things continued like this, they too would meet their end.
"We surrender!"
"We're done fighting! I command you to lay down your weapons!"
Two voices with slightly different accents than the Dornish rose from the remaining soldiers. At this point, both sides were exhausted, and when one soldier threw his weapon to the ground, it quickly spread, and soldiers one by one dropped their weapons.
From there, it was just a matter of the victors tallying casualties and cleaning up the battlefield, something the soldiers took care of.
Tyrion was seen as a jester and was bound with the prisoners, thrown aside. Jorah was taken to Nymeria as a surrendered military leader.
Jorah: "Lady Nymeria, I didn't expect we would meet like this!"
Nymeria was sitting on a wooden crate, drinking water, as several soldiers cleaned the bloodstained Valyrian steel armor she wore. "You don't look like a Dornishman."
Jorah: "I'm Lord Jorah Mormont from Bear Island in the North. I accidentally wandered into Dorne's territory and was captured. I wasn't part of this war."
"From the North?" Nymeria scrutinized his face and leather armor.
Jorah: "My Valyrian steel sword was confiscated by your men."
"Longclaw?" Nymeria recalled that Wright had mentioned Jorah, and that if the sword could be found, it would prove his identity. She looked at Dickon Tarly, who immediately understood and ran toward the pile of captured weapons.
Fortunately, Dornishmen weren't particularly keen on swords, and the weapon had yet to be picked over as spoils. Dickon soon returned holding a longsword.
Nymeria ran her fingers over the blade. "Is this truly you?"
Jorah: "Not just me, but also Tyrion Lannister from the Westerlands. We were on our way to Tyrosh together, but ended up stranded here."