Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire

As night approached, Davon Lannister stood in the camp, watching the rain gradually stop.

There was no hay mat in the tents of the military camp for people to lie down comfortably. The fine and long drizzle lasted for several days. The tents and armor had not been dried for a long time. The sun seemed to be always hidden in the clouds and refused to come out to see the lion.

There was no news from the scouts along the coast, which meant that the thousands of new troops under Davon had not received any intelligence from the Northern Army.

The feeling of uneasiness was like a burning fire in his heart, making it difficult for Davon to calm down.

In the dim distance, the patrol sentries of the new army in the West marched around the camp in a row. They looked well-organized, but in fact their attention was not around the camp.

His father's training was very effective. At least the new army learned the formation. If he wanted to strengthen it further, it could only be said to be a delusion in a short time. Davon sighed slightly in his heart, and he turned to face the dim tent alone.

Every place in the military camp was very cold, and the damp air made it difficult to start a fire. In comparison, his tent was the best.

The commotion occurred in the camp at this time. Davon looked over and saw that the scout sent out before fell off his horse when he rode into the camp. Blood was like spots on his face and cloth armor.

Several scouts then rushed into the camp from the main gate, their faces full of fatigue.

"My lord!" The servant galloped to Davon's side, "Only one of the scouts sent out has returned, and the rest are..."

"Let the army doctor come over," Davon lowered his voice, suppressing his inner excitement, and his voice seemed a little strange compared to usual, "Treat him well and ask slowly."

He pinched his flesh with his nails hard, and the pain brought him back to reality.

The scouts were sent to die, and their purpose was to find out the location of Robb Stark, and then determine the location of the northerners based on their speed of marching towards Casterly Rock.

He guessed Robb Stark's strategy again. Davon stared at the map. Although Lord Tywin could still deal with the enemy with the Blackwater River, it would be much more difficult to break through quickly and return to the West.

Therefore, in order to break the deadlock, Robb Stark must die in the Westerlands, so that the morale of the northerners heading south to King's Landing can be greatly disrupted, and the Lannisters can have a chance to breathe.

"The whole army will rest for one night and set off tomorrow morning." Davon ordered slowly. He always wanted to learn from Tywin's characteristics of being calm and composed in times of crisis, but his wild and unrestrained personality made it difficult for him to hide the details of his facial expressions.

Only the footsteps of patrolling soldiers were left in the barracks.

In the distance of the forest, the dire wolf flag was raised by the northern cavalry. The dire wolf Grey Wind sniffed the ground with his nose, and the cold light of his eyes was embedded in the night, looking into the distance.

Robb Stark was riding on a horse. Most of the horses of his personal guards were familiar with Grey Wind's existence. Although they still dared not approach, they could at least stay still in battle.

Greatjon Umber let out a cold laugh from his throat, "The bastards have fallen asleep, waiting for their throats to be cut."

Daisy Mormont stroked the sword with cloth and held the hilt tightly, "The tired lions are in a hurry to march, and now is their death."

Everyone looked at Robb Stark, and the young wolf slowly drew out his long sword, "Kill all the Westerlands."

"Kill all the Westerlands!" Greatjon Umber roared loudly and rushed out on horseback.

The silence of the night was instantly broken by the rapid and shocking sound of horse hooves, and the sleeping birds rushed to the sky, and animals of all sizes were awakened by the shaking earth.

The new army of the Westerlands looked at the mountains and fields in front of them in a daze, and one of them held up a torch to see clearly.

The stray arrows were erratic, falling obliquely in the night sky, hitting the new army holding torches, and blood immediately overflowed, and they fell to the ground.

The new army saw the comings clearly, and the cavalrymen all over the field charged in a line, like a dagger stretched out from the black curtain, with fierce silver light on the dagger, just like the armor and spears on the cavalrymen.

Dafon woke up from his sleep and walked out of the tent. What he saw was the scene of cavalrymen all over the field.

Looking at the new silver helmets on the northern cavalrymen, his heart was like a boulder rolling down and sinking into the valley.

The Western Territory completely defeated the northern cavalry.

The flaming arrows were like stars shining in the sky above their heads, getting closer and closer, and the tents were the pushers of the fire.

The howling of the new army in the Western Territory, the knocking sound of weapons falling to the ground, the snorting sound of horses charging, and the sound of fighting all over the sky.

Dafon seemed to fall into an ice cave, his ears were poured with ice water, his ears were deaf, and his whole body was cold.

He propped himself up with his legs, but it seemed that the soil was too sticky and stuck to him. Dafon found that he could not move. The extreme pain was like a magic hand that dragged him into the ruthless abyss, restricting his limbs.

The servant who had been with him day and night had half of his head cut off. He moved a few times on the spot and fell to the ground. The blood splashed on Dafon. He trembled violently, and his legs seemed to melt into the blood. He fell to the ground.

Several northern soldiers found him and pressed him hard to the ground. The hard stone on the ground was very painful.

It hurt too much. There was no need to use so much force. Dafon really wanted to shout, because his limbs were so sore that they no longer belonged to him. The golden beard and hair that he was once proud of were soaked in mud and water. It was like a complete joke on the face of a loser.

"Davon Lannister," a very young voice came to his ears. Davon looked up, wanting to see what the commander he had been trying to defeat looked like. He locked eyes with Robb Stark, "It's time for us to get to know each other."

"Kill me." Davon didn't know whether this was the only remaining strength in the heart of the Lannister lion or a cowardly plea.

The young wolf said calmly that the Lannister in front of him was just one of the many enemies he had defeated. "You are a good hostage, Davon Lannister. Your father is still defending the Branded City. We need you to stop Stafford Lannister from seeking death and defending."

"Karstark's cavalry!" Davon looked up suddenly, the Northern cavalry pretending to attack the defense line of the Westerland Camp.

"They are not so stupid to use cavalry to attack the fortified city. Davon Lannister, your father is stupid, but he will not be defeated like this, and I will not waste troops." Robb glanced coldly at Davon who was subdued by the soldiers and left in the distance. This Lannister was just one of the many enemies he defeated.

Davon stared at the back of the young wolf, this was his most powerful enemy.

He smashed his face into the mud. It turned out that the scout's news was false, the purpose of the North's surprise attack on Casterly Rock was false, and Karstark's attack on the defense line he arranged was also a pretense.

They were really waiting for him here, waiting for the last defenders of the West.

Baron Deddings looked at the painful Davon Lannister with a slightly sympathetic look, but he smiled self-deprecatingly. A baron who lost his territory was not qualified to sympathize with the lion of the West, even though this lion was basically disabled.

He spurred his horse slightly and followed behind Robb Stark.