Bloodbath in the Corridor

Chapter 107 Bloodbath in the Corridor

The loud crash of the door breaking through the entire city hall echoed as Davon Lannister took a deep breath, savoring the fishy smell in the air.

With a "crack," the door seemed to burst open.

Heavy breathing and footsteps on the ground reached my ears.

"Stay calm."

Behind them, the crossbowmen tightened their bowstrings.

Davon lowered the shield on his left arm, making it, his shoulder, and his tilted body form a stable triangle.

A chaotic interplay of light and shadow, stirred by torches, appeared outside the corridor.

"put!"

The sound pierced the air, like the whispers of strangers brushing past one's ears.

With a clang, the first enemy was struck in the breastplate by a crossbow bolt. As he staggered backward, several more crossbow bolts struck the gaps in his armor, piercing him to the feathers.

The second and third place winners also fell short.

But there are too many enemies.

The fourth and fifth men stormed in, stepping over the corpses of their companions, their halberds and maces sealing off the narrow doorway.

The first battle axe whistled through the air as it cleaved towards the left side of the shield wall.

Davon didn't look; his gaze was fixed on the figure thrusting a spear directly in front of him.

He thrust his left shoulder forward, the angled shield meeting the spear tip, the metal scraping against the shield with a piercing screech before sliding to the side.

The moment the enemy lost his strength, Davon stepped forward, his longsword piercing upwards into the gap below the throat.

A puff of warm blood mist was drawn out when the sword was drawn.

Suddenly, Davon felt a jolt in his left shoulder, a dull pain exploding within him, as a warhammer grazed his shoulder armor, causing a spasm in the muscles below.

He used the momentum to spin around, took a half step back with his left foot, and with a swift, unexpected strike, cut the back of the hammer-wielding man's knee.

The sound of bones cracking was drowned out by screams, but another longsword was already coming at them head-on.

Davon leaned back, his body bent like a bow, the sword tip pointing downwards and the hilt pointing upwards to protect his head and neck.

The enemy's sword grazed past his breastplate, sparks flying.

Just as his opponent leaned forward due to missing his target, Dafeng sprang back like a spring, his sword following his body, piercing the seam of the armor plate under his opponent's armpit, warm blood splattering onto the gauntlet.

A breach has been created in our shield wall.

An enemy roared and slashed fiercely with his greatsword, knocking a young knight on the left to the ground with a muffled groan.

Before he could think, Davon's left arm muscles bulged, and he swung the shield like a heavy hammer, slamming it hard into the enemy's visor.

The enemy staggered backward, but Davon's sword instantly caught up, striking three times and severing a section of his arm.

"Fill in the gap!"

The young knight quickly got to his feet, gritted his teeth, and pushed the shield back.

But their formation had been broken up, and more enemies squeezed in.

The porch descended into chaos.

Parry, strike, push—Davon's longsword switched back and forth between slashing and thrusting.

Suddenly, a halberd came around from a tricky angle and struck his left shoulder armor once again.

The excruciating pain caused Davon's vision to go black.

He knelt down to relieve some of the force.

Then he suddenly rammed into her, and the longsword pierced her abdomen from under her ribs.

"Retreat! Retreat upstairs!" Davon's voice was hoarse and broken.

The knights fought and retreated, while the archers reloaded their crossbows at the corner of the stairs, the sound of the triggers clicking like a death knell.

Davon, dragging a servant whose thigh had been pierced, was the last to ascend the steps, leaving a viscous trail of blood on the ground.

The reserve team immediately filled the gap.

Moments later, the enemy retreated.

The fighting has temporarily ceased.

Davon sat in the corner, asked for a whetstone, and carefully polished the longsword in his hand.

The blade was riddled with nicks, a testament to the bloody battle that had just taken place.

Sir Kevan began to address the soldiers.

"The Duke of Tywin never makes a mistake," he said. "Every step he takes is carefully considered."

"Holding this position is buying time for the entire Westerlands. The Lannisters will not fall, and we will surely achieve final victory."

damn it.

So, does losing so badly mean we were wrong?

Davon touched his shoulder, and three vertical lines appeared between his brows.

He thought of the complicated relationships within his family.

His aunt was Lady Joanna, the wife of the Duke of Tywin.

So my father was both the Duke's cousin and his brother-in-law.

Davon is Tywin's nephew and cousin.

Thus, sitting in this city on the verge of collapse, listening to Sir Kevon repeating his encouraging words everywhere.

It suddenly occurred to him.

Could it be that they are so devoted to the king because the rumors Stannis made up are true?

Long ago, Davon met Joffrey at the tournament in Lannister, the one where Jaime and Jorah broke each other's spears nine times and fought to a draw.

Joffrey was just a child then, but he already possessed much of his mother's charm.

No, the more I think about it, the more damn similar it seems.

If the rumors are true, the child is both James's nephew and James's son.

Ahhh.

Kevon was still rambling on, but Davon's thoughts were already racing.

The elders are blind and cannot see.

But how could he not know what his own cousins ​​were like?

If it were Jaime and Cersei, they really might be capable of doing something like that.

Old Man Stevie once suggested that anyone who dared to talk about this again should have their tongue pulled out.

No wonder everyone calls him Uncle Dumb.

"Words are like the wind; the more you pay attention to them, the faster and wider they travel," said Lord Tywin.

"We must put an end to the rumors with actions, not with words. It will be enough for everyone to know that it was Stannis's shameless fabrication for the throne."

Well, no one has said it openly.

Everyone was talking about it in secret.

In taverns, in military camps, and even in the corridors of Casterly Rock.

Davon had heard countless whispers, but he felt little anger, but rather a strange sense of regret.

After all, they are the golden twins of Casterly Rock, the two most dazzling jewels of the Westerlands.

Half the people in Lannisport want to sleep with James.

The woman's half.

The other half were men, and they wanted to sleep with Cersei.

Ahhh.

Sir Kevon was still there speaking.

"—Lannister warriors, once reinforcements arrive, we can launch a pincer attack from both inside and outside, and teach those traitors a lesson."

""

"Duke Tywin has arranged everything; we just need to hold on."

Davon listened without stopping his work.

His uncle, or rather, his maternal uncle, was good in every way, but as soon as Tywin was involved, he immediately turned into a madman who obeyed unconditionally.

The Duke sat in Casterly Rock, sending them to Lannisport to risk their lives, and he didn't complain at all.

Casterly Rock can hold out for a long time, but Lannisport cannot, and everyone knows that.

Tywin knew it too.

"His Excellency the Duke said," Kevan had whispered to a few of his relatives, "that we must put up a respectable resistance."

"At least we must inflict a sufficient cost on Renly, so that people can't say the Lannisters fled without a fight."

"A timely and dignified surrender is permitted by His Majesty the Duke."

Alas, even the Lannisters have been reduced to surrendering.

Tywin sent several letters to the king pleading for help, but always received the same response.

"Hold on a little longer, reinforcements will be here soon."

More than a month has passed since the start of the war, and not a single soldier has been seen.

It is said that several thousand Vale people came from Deephole, but Renly's men had already blocked the Golden Avenue at the east gate of Casterly Rock.

By the time they arrived, the turnips were about to spoil.

Reinforcements are not coming.

Davon held the sword up to his eyes; its cold light was dazzling, and the edge was sharp.

He nodded in satisfaction and sheathed his sword.

Kevon finally finished speaking, walked over, and sat down next to Davon.

"How's the injury?"

"It's nothing." Dafeng moved his left shoulder, which was in great pain.

Kevan nodded: "Lord Tywin and the King have a plan; we will not lose."

Davon remained silent, listening to the faint sounds of bugles and distant shouts of battle outside, without responding.

"They're here again!" the sentry shouted from the window.

He leaped up.

Fuck the plan, fuck the king.

Let's kill our fill first, then we'll talk.

River bend, high pavilion.

On the north bank of the Mandeb River, Joffrey chewed on jerky and gazed at the battle on the opposite bank.

Achoo!

He pinched his nose and stretched out his palm to feel it.

It's raining.