The Bow and Arrow for Hunting Beasts

The soldiers of Westeros always find something to do.

Even on the battlefield, even if one could lose their life at any moment.

They passed a fuzzy, not-so-round ball around, leaving streaks of blood on the grass.

This thing is quite hard; after a few rounds of kicking, your toes will swell up like carrots.

James leaned against the tree trunk, closing his eyes and pretending to sleep.

He had absolutely no interest in such a vulgar game.

A commotion arose outside the woods.

"Hey! Stinky crab! Come and grab it!"

"Coward! Huddled in your nest, too scared to come out?"

A few daring boys deliberately ran to a clearing at the edge of the woods, kicked the ball high into the air, and shouted towards the enemy camp.

And every time, some crab-loving people who couldn't contain their anger would rush out.

The archers lying in ambush nearby unleashed a flurry of arrows, causing those unlucky guys to contribute new balls.

Sir Baron Swann stood a short distance away, arms crossed, his face full of disapproval.

He had already raised his concerns with James several times, believing that this method was too underhanded.

James doesn't care.

It wasn't his order to do it.

There are idiots everywhere anyway. These people are bored and think they can kill more people to please him.

Besides, they're not allowed to actually fight.

The Prime Minister only allowed roaming and harassment, so James strictly carried out the order.

At least until now, he has refrained from attacking the camp that collapsed with a single charge.

Each time, only a few dozen or a hundred people are sent out in rotation.

They would make a show of charging into battle, kill a few unsuspecting bastards, burn a few tents, and then turn and run before the bastards could react.

Not interesting.

It's like killing a chicken.

Those crab people were powerless to fight back; all they could do was chaotically blow horns and gather, and then stand there dumbfounded, eating the horse manure they left behind.

Except for a few fools who didn't know their own limitations and rode their horses into the enemy's spears.

Throughout the night, James suffered almost no losses.

And those crab farmers would gather in a grand manner every time.

The bugle calls blared loudly, but they never learned their lesson.

They neither strengthened their defenses nor dared to pursue them.

With the horns sounding all night long, James's mind was far from calm.

Father was too selfish; he went to the Reach, leaving them to defend King's Landing.

This place should be perfectly safe.

But who would have thought that Dragonstone, the island responsible for guarding the gates of King's Landing, would rebel first?

James and Stannis weren't close, and besides, even Robert didn't like that guy.

However, he still controlled most of the Wang family's navy, and he couldn't transfer the rest from Casterly Rock.

Otherwise, we could have just stormed Dragonstone and resolved the situation like during Greyjoy's rebellion, instead of wasting time here.

What a pity!

"Waaah—"

The bugle sounded again.

But this time, the sound was different.

Closer.

More urgent.

It came from the forest.

James suddenly opened his eyes and mounted his horse.

"Attention everyone!" he shouted sternly.

The soldiers immediately dropped the tattered balls and grabbed their weapons.

A thousand cavalrymen quickly assembled, their hoofbeats echoing through the woods.

James pushed his horse out and reined it in at the edge of the woods.

The morning light is dim.

A chaotic group of crabs launched a surprise attack on them.

Seeing this, James couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"Sir, why...why did they come out?" Villar approached.

"He got annoyed."

Unable to sleep, these guys actually left the camp protecting them and ran to the open area on the riverbank.

They ran into the cavalry's territory.

"Sir James, the enemy has begun their attack. Let's retreat," Villar suggested from the side.

But James squinted, carefully observing the enemy's formation.

They looked like a huge, chaotic mass, but this disorganized formation only highlighted their disorder.

These crab farmers wore coarse cloth clothes covered in patches, and didn't even have shoes on their feet.

They were carrying axes, harpoons, or short spears, and none of them had shields.

One volley of fire is enough to leave them lying on the ground waiting to be carried back to their hometowns.

Unfortunately, Jaime only had cavalry under his command, and fewer than fifty of them were skilled archers.

Of course they can withdraw, and they can withdraw at any time.

But James was reluctant to leave.

"They've come all this way, it would be so impolite of us not to greet them," he said.

Villar was stunned.

"Jazz? There are three thousand people on the other side!"

"I see them." James slowly cracked his knuckles. "Only three thousand people."

The knights gathered around him, their voices barely able to contain their fighting spirit.

"Sir James, let's fight!"

"Let those stinking crabs know what we're made of!"

They were all talking at once.

A smile played on James's lips as he raised his hand to silence Villar's persuasion.

"Everyone has made up their minds, so you don't need to say anything more."

He glanced back at the cavalry behind him, then at the chaotic group of crab people in the distance.

Those poor wretches charged forward in a chaotic frenzy, their formation becoming increasingly scattered and disorderly.

Sir Baron.

"exist."

"Take two hundred men, go up to them from the front, and lead them into the woods."

Baron nodded and began to muster his troops.

"Everyone else, come with me."

Eight hundred cavalrymen quietly disappeared into the depths of the woods and sped south.

Outside the woods, Baron was completely exposed to the enemy, galloping back and forth in the clearing.

The crab farmers' advance paused for a moment.

But when they discovered there were only so many people, they excitedly shouted all sorts of nonsensical slogans, determined to drive these annoying bastards away.

Baron began to lead his men in retreat.

At a pace that's neither too fast nor too slow, it's just right to keep the crab people chasing after it.

One hundred steps. Eighty steps. Fifty steps.

The crab people were getting closer and closer to the forest, and further and further away from their camp.

James led his men on a long detour from the south and stopped on the flank of the crabmen's formation.

From here, the three thousand crab people look like a crab crawling sideways, with its front legs already clinging to Baron's body.

The ones behind are still crawling slowly.

James raised his sword.

The eight hundred riders began to accelerate.

First a jog, then a sprint, and finally a full-speed charge.

The horses' hooves pounded the mud, and the wind whistled in our ears.

Eight hundred riders, like a giant dagger, crashed into the crab people's line from the side and rear.

Jaime's sword flashed in an arc, and a crabman's head flew high into the air.

Blood splattered onto his golden armor, warm and sweet-smelling.

"For Casterly Rock!" he roared.

"For King's Landing!" "For Rossby!" "For Harvard!"...

A chaotic yet resolute voice rang out behind him.

Those poor, barefoot creatures screamed, dropped their weapons, and scattered in all directions.

James didn't stop.

He cleaved open the back of one fleeing crab farmer with one sword, and pierced the chest of another with another.

Blood splattered into his helmet through the gaps, making him lick his lips.

This is what war should be like.

Instead of using underhanded tactics to lure a few unlucky guys, they simply crushed them, showing the other side what a true warrior is.

He slashed down seven or eight people in one go, his body covered in blood, his golden armor turning red.

But just then, the sound of horns rang out from another direction.

Not far from the shore, a dense crowd of people was emerging from the water.

Those men wore helmets adorned with feathers, and their belts were laden with daggers and throwing axes.

Several black or colored flags were raised, adorned with strange, blood-red symbols.

pirate.

At least five thousand pirates.

They hid behind the rocks and took the opportunity to surround them.

"Damn it," James muttered under his breath.

Whoosh whoosh—

Suddenly, a hail of arrows rained down from the camp.

Jaime was about to raise his shield.

An arrow, however, pierced precisely into a gap in his right arm armor.