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"How is it? How do you feel?"
They sat around the campfire as Cole looked at the fat boy, Duran.
A hundred cavalrymen would draw too much attention, so they had split into five smaller teams.
Hidden deep in the mountains and forests, one of their brothers kept watch from the treetops, sipping hot wine while scanning the surroundings for movement.
The men passed the wineskin around in turn. The enemy was on high alert now, sending out more scouts and patrols into the royal forest. Moving undetected had become much harder.
Duran had followed Cole's team into battle, accompanied by a few retainers from his family. He had finally experienced war firsthand.
His expression was bitter. Though he had tried to prepare himself mentally, the reality of war—the pain, exhaustion, and terror—was far worse than he had imagined.
They had charged into battle, cut down their foes, and in turn, had been hunted down themselves.
"When will this war end, Cole?"
After spending the past few days together, the two had grown familiar enough to address each other by name. Duran was simple, but unlike many nobles, he lacked arrogance or prejudice. That was why Cole was willing to befriend him.
"I don't know," Cole admitted, shaking his head. "But it should be soon."
His words, however, carried little conviction. He remembered clearly how this war had played out. Stannis would soon attack Storm's End, and Renly would march to meet him. They had agreed to battle at dawn, yet before the sun could rise, Renly would be dead—slain by a shadow assassin. The war would end before it even truly began.
The wineskin reached Cole. He cared little for hygiene at this moment and took a swig before passing it to Duran.
Duran took a sip as well, then asked, "Do you think we can win?"
All eyes turned toward Cole. He had become their backbone, his wisdom and bravery proven time and again.
"Yes, we'll win. We will definitely win," Cole answered without hesitation.
Even if he wasn't certain of the outcome, he couldn't afford to show doubt now. His men needed confidence, not uncertainty. Though exhaustion weighed on him, he forced himself to stand firm.
He hadn't expected things to unfold this way.
War was like a game of chess, and Cole had been given a board unlike any other, giving him an initial advantage. To outsiders, his decisions seemed like flashes of brilliance. But he knew that advantage wouldn't last forever.
Every army had its commander, the true players of the game, moving their pieces with each calculated step. Success depended on placing the right piece in the right place at the right time.
And yet, even the chess pieces had their own will. Just as he and Mace Tyrell were both commanders, neither of them was a military genius.
Mace's past mistakes were proof enough. More than a decade ago, he had besieged Storm's End for a year, squandering countless opportunities. If he had instead led his forces north or marched on King's Landing, the outcome of that war might have been entirely different.
Instead, he had chosen to wait, and that delay had cost him.
War was unpredictable. The victor was often the one who combined strength with luck.
Cole wasn't the type of strategist who could see three moves ahead. He hadn't foreseen Mace centralizing his supply transport. He had only focused on small, strategic strikes to weaken their defenses.
Yet war moved quickly. Had it not been for the white dragon's surveillance, he might have sent all their stolen supplies directly beneath the walls of Storm's End. That misstep would have changed the war's course entirely.
No one had expected Mace to push all his resources forward before Cole had played his hand.
Luck had played its part. Cole had seized the opportunity, set up an ambush, and used the white dragon to keep Mace scrambling.
But as Cole stared into the fire, his men remained oblivious to his thoughts. To them, he was the leader, the one they followed without question.
Once, he had been the same—just another soldier carrying out orders, ensuring his own survival while reaping the rewards of war.
Suddenly, a rustling came from the treetops.
The sentry's urgent voice cut through the night. "Someone's coming!"
In an instant, the men sprang into action, untying their horses and mounting swiftly.
The sound of approaching riders grew closer.
Everyone was still unsure whether the approaching riders were friend or foe, but Bai Long took the lead, soaring into the sky to scout ahead.
The night was as dark as ink, with the moon hidden behind thick clouds. Anyone with poor vision would be blind in such conditions. Even Cole and his men couldn't move through the dense forest at speed.
Bai Long kept to the skies, circling high above like an eagle. Though slightly larger than a falcon, he appeared as nothing more than a speck against the vast night.
No one would suspect that he was the enemy's eyes—though in this world, there were indeed some who could use animals as their own.
He dared not fly too low, but with the thick canopy of trees and the shifting clouds, his vision was limited. He glimpsed flickering lights in the distance. Activating the Eye of Time, he focused carefully.
A group of cavalry moved slowly through the darkness—more than a dozen riders clad in armor. One of them carried a lance with a flag.
They had been drawn by the firelight. Soon, the two sides would meet.
Cole didn't hesitate. He shouted and led the charge.
Their numbers were roughly equal, but Cole's men had the advantage. However, the enemy cavalry didn't engage. Instead, they turned and fled without a fight.
Suspicious.
Cole's eyes locked onto the rider with the thickest armor—clearly the leader. He closed in, sword poised for a decisive strike.
Clang!
His blade was intercepted. Two lances shot toward him from either side—guards protecting their leader.
Cole moved instinctively. He followed the trajectory of the lances, knowing his chainmail wouldn't withstand them. Under the Eye of Time, he twisted sideways, narrowly avoiding the attacks. One strike missed entirely, the other only grazing past.
The three enemies didn't press forward. Instead, they pulled back swiftly, retreating into the darkness.
Cole scanned his surroundings. His men had already chased deep into the forest. A bad feeling crept over him.
Something was wrong.
Spurring his horse forward, he followed.
Ahead, someone was knocked off their horse by a low-hanging branch. Cole didn't recognize them—without hesitation, he thrust his sword down.
Before he could catch up to the main force, the sound of hooves thundered around him.
An ambush.
Realization struck. This was too coordinated. A group that had fled so easily, despite being well-armored and evenly matched? No, they had lured them in.
Cole wheeled his horse around, urgently scanning for an escape route.
The cavalry came from all sides.
"Break through!" Cole ordered.
Above, Bai Long folded his wings, diving through the clouds. The Eye of Time activated again, freezing the battlefield in Cole's perception.
He spotted the weak point—east.
"Follow me!" he bellowed, spurring his horse toward the opening.
There were over a hundred enemies, but in the east, only a dozen blocked the way. It was their best chance.
An arrow whistled past his head. He ducked, but in that instant, his eyes locked onto Duran.
His friend's armor gleamed even in the dim light—too eye-catching. Knowing Duran lacked battlefield experience, Cole had given him thick armor for protection.
Now, that same armor made him a target.
Under the frozen vision of the Eye of Time, Cole saw arrows flying toward Duran. Most missed, but one was aimed at his horse.
A perfect shot.
The arrow struck the horse's eye.
With a pained scream, the beast reared back mid-gallop, then collapsed.
Duran was flung into the air, his bulky form twisting helplessly.
And then he crashed to the ground, hard.