Chapter 282

"Regent Prince, you let that brat escape." Foliemeng's handsome face was now covered in soot; after the big battle, smoke and sweat had completely condensed on his face, but in Zhanmu's view, he was far more handsome than when he was in the capital.

"Damn, it wasn't me who let that brat escape, but his subordinates. Give the order: kill all the prisoners, then immediately pursue." Zhanmu ordered Foliemeng, "Arrange the cavalry, contact Meiwen, and have his infantry advance quickly. Tell him that the infantry must reach the foot of Wind Rest Fortress by tomorrow; if they are late, I will throw his head first into the fortress."

The fire ignited the dry branches left by autumn and winter in the Stormlands all at once; Zhanmu felt it might be the largest fire in the Stormlands in several decades.

Foliemeng finally acted smart once.

His cavalry defeated a small unit of the Golden Company and reached the foot of Wind Rest Fortress; the boy indeed could not hold back, leading his cavalry and war elephants to charge at him. Zhanmu felt that if Qiongen Kelindun were still alive, he would certainly not make such a mistake, and if the boy were a bit more cautious, he wouldn't be led around by the nose by him.

After a brief skirmish with the boy, he dropped some unlucky fellows, then fought while retreating until he lured the boy's cavalry and war elephants into Foliemeng's Antler Field.

The facts prove that even though Zhanmu is not as familiar with the Stormlands as Láobó, he still understands them far better than this impostor.

Antler Field, Small Stone Stall, White Deer Plain, Triangular Ridge—when he was young, he followed Sir Yàsè dà'ēn here to slaughter the Royal Forest Brotherhood, traversing the timber yards and stone streams of this place; decades later, the original sites remain vivid in his mind, and each name can still be recalled clearly.

Those were his golden years, his age of passion.

After giving the order, he did not linger, walking over the remaining burn marks, leading his own cavalry forward swiftly to reap every isolated Golden Company warrior.

They clashed a total of three times at Antler Field.

First, he used the cavalry ambushed by Foliemeng to rout the boy and his pursuing cavalry and war elephants, launching a countercharge. The startled war elephants instead became their aid; he saw the war elephants panic and flee, trampling the Golden Company soldiers as they ran, bellowing.

The impostor's performance in this battle did not match that of the Young Wolf Lord and the She-Wolf Maiden; instead, he truly seemed like a novice on the battlefield, and after encountering an unexpected situation, he completely lost control of his troops.

Zhanmu and his cavalry seized the opportunity, turned direction, and together with Foliemeng's ambushed light cavalry surrounded the impostor's pursuers. If it weren't for the war elephants being truly frenzied, he was confident that the little boy could have been captured alive by him.

The boy clearly had not learned from his first defeat; perhaps, when surrounded by him, he seemed to have fully grasped his troop numbers, so the second time they met at Antler Field, the boy brought more troops, and the officers commanding his forces were also more experienced.

The Golden Company began to steady themselves, and Zhanmu almost lost hope of a quick victory.

He seemed to suddenly discover the youth's weakness. He then ordered the royal stag banner and his own golden lion banner to be raised, fully declaring his identity to the opposing youth. Afterwards, he used the queen's sewn cloak for him to wrap the shattered skull of the officer Láisīwěiěr Péikè captured in the first battle and nail it to a tree. He did not forget to hang the gold ring that Péikè had exchanged for his service in the Golden Company on the nail.

He believed the boy could understand the provocative meaning of his actions.

Heh, he doesn't think he's the little prince whose skull was smashed by the Magic Mountain, does he? Now there is a shattered skull wrapped in a golden cloak.

He didn't have to wait long before the Brave Companions' fierce assault arrived. His cavalry fought to the death on the narrow Royal Forest road, and they engaged in a savage, bloody melee here for a day.

By evening, when the squad he had sent out had already gone behind the Golden Company via the path that the Smiling Knight had used to defeat Shǐdìfēn Bàilāxīēn, the main attacking force became the lion.

He personally blew the horn, and his great army surged forth from three sides; the Golden Company, caught off guard, instantly collapsed, just like Shǐdìfēn Bàilāxīēn had done initially.

If this impostor studied history more, perhaps he would know how to undo his mistake. No, he could never learn this history. The great deeds of the losers, as they fail, will all vanish like smoke.

When Weixiao Qishi and Ximeng Tuoyin each died at the hands of Yàsè Dàiēn and the fearless Ser Barristan, everything about them faded and was destined to be slowly forgotten by history— the young man who considered merely crossing swords with Weixiao Qishi a lifelong honor will forever remember.

But that young man will also gradually step out of the glory forged by Yàsè Dàiēn and others.

The sky darkened; in the second battle, he did not continue to expand his gains— perhaps this is why Xiao Yigeng still wanted to try a third time.

The third time, he had the cavalry withdraw farther. He felt the gods were helping him.

From then on, the wind shifted to blow from west to east. The howling gale, he felt, was bolstered by his identity as a lord of the western marches.

The third time, he expended little effort and lost few men or horses. He ordered that several hilltops be set ablaze. The dry twigs and scattered leaves of autumn and winter, carried by the wind, ignited everything they touched.

On the battlefield he could almost hear the fearful cries of the Golden Company's mercenaries as they fled in panic.

He ordered Fulimeng to send warriors into the danger of being consumed by fire, to follow and cut them down, which hastened the Golden Company's collapse.

Three victories in three battles made his officers, soldiers, and attendants cheer with joy.

Upon hearing the order, some stayed behind to carry it out, while the rest began to traverse the narrow passage amid the green smoke of the burning forest, then marched straight on Storm's End.

"Your Highness, what about the spoils?" Fulimeng looked at the various gold and jeweled ornaments hanging from the Golden Company's corpses, looking quite tempted.

"The spoils belong to the ultimate victor." He pulled on the reins, coldly eyeing the officer before him, "Tell me, have we won? Have we cut off the impostor's head and hung it on the walls of King's Landing? Have we taken Storm's End and fully mastered the Stormlands?" Not killing or capturing the impostor remained a regret.

"Your Highness, I feel the answer is all 'no'," Fulimeng said with an indifferent smile, "Ah, what a buzzkill. You'd better also tell Mervyn that these spoils don't belong to him— damn it, this kid has no lands, he surely wants to make a fortune off the war, and he still owes me a pile of gold dragons."

"There's no gold in Storm's End, but the Lánnísītè will make up for this shortfall." Zhānmǔ took this as a promise.

As evening approached on the second day, Méiwēn finally led the arriving infantry onward; they practically re‑pitched their tents on the very spot where the Tílìě'ěr had camped before, not even bothering with stakes.

When he saw Méiwēn in the tent, he jumped up and down, bitterly regretting that he had not been able to fight at the Ashford.

"You're too late." As soon as Zhānmǔ saw him, he said, "I told you not to stray too far so you could reinforce the front at any moment, but you were so slow the battle ended before you could join."

"Who can I blame? I also have an order not to get too close, lest the enemy spot us." Méiwēn fretted, "Ah, my lord, with thousands of infantry trudging through the old woods, the impostor need only climb a height to see your endless reinforcements; if he does, he'll be scared witless and couldn't fight you—I think your victory should owe me a share."

"You say I'm slow? Fine, I'm slow—I see corpses lion‑emblazoned and can't move my feet until I've buried them properly!" He spoke as if taking credit yet also assigning blame.

"We're at war!" Zhānmǔ snapped, suddenly raising his voice, even he thought it somewhat bizarre, "Our purpose here is to take Storm's End, not to bury the dead."

"No matter what, you told me to come to Storm's End today—I'm already here!" Méiwēn exclaimed angrily.

No matter what, you had me come to the foot of Wind Rest Fortress today, and I have arrived!" Mei Wen said angrily.

"I'm very sorry, Ser." Zhānmǔ slumped into his seat, feeling his heart pound, not knowing what to do.

"Your Highness, you have nothing to apologize for, but I must remind you that aside from that impostor inside the city, no one has ever taken this castle. No matter what, I lack confidence." Méiwēn looked dejected, spreading his hands helplessly, "If we had a dragon, perhaps the city's soldiers would strip the impostor naked and deliver him to your camp!"

Your Highness, you have nothing to apologize for, but I must remind you that besides that impostor inside the city, no one has taken this fortress. No matter what, I lack confidence." Mei Wen looked somewhat disheartened, spreading his hands helplessly, "If we had a dragon, perhaps the soldiers inside the city would strip that impostor naked and send him to your camp!"

My older sister might be interested.

"After three defeats, the Golden Company's shattered remnants have retreated to the city, but as long as a few hundred men still hold the walls, the city stands firm as a mountain." Zhānmǔ felt his thoughts in turmoil, unable to sit or lie still, and began lecturing his subordinates on the well‑known dull fact, "We must press the attack and increase pressure on these mercenaries." Hopefully they are not skilled at siege warfare.

"My lord, if it's convenient, you'd best have the maester copy out the terms for buying off these mercenaries and toss them into the city." Méiwēn feigned lament and dejection, "These barbaric mercenaries are likely illiterate; the maester's writing may be for the blind, but they'll naturally guess your terms."

"You're quite clever, but Maester Wendel is already copying them, and tonight we can have the archers shoot the parchment into the city." Fulimeng finished speaking with a yawn, "Hopefully, when they hold torches to read at night, they'll burn their own beards."

"Since you lack confidence in taking the castle, then build me siege towers, assault wagons, battering rams, river‑crossing ladders, and catapults." Zhānmǔ rose at once, "I'll tell you the quantities later—damn it, I'll launch the assault in three days!"

"Three days?" Méiwēn exclaimed, "I doubt I can have the troops' barracks ready in that time."

"Feel free to doubt, but if you don't get it done, I'll toss your head into the city."

"Damn, I'm really miserable." Méiwēn lamented, "I've borne the surname Sàsīfēi'ěrdé since childhood, never imagining my head would be so entwined with Storm's End."

The Sàsīfēi'ěrdé were skilled at building; when in King's Landing, Méiwēn commanded a company of their archers, which formed nearly the core of the Red Keep's garrison—a role only he was suited for.

A strong wind at sea snapped the battle flag, the icy sea breeze freezing his face into numbness.

Three days later, Zhānmǔ saw, as expected, that all the siege engines were ready, but over those days Storm's End had not opened its gates in the slightest to let him in.

(Note: The original list ended at line 59; line 60 was not provided in the missing lines list, so no translation is required for 【60】.)

The arrow is on the bowstring; he has no choice but to release it. He does not know how many more soldiers will die beneath this city.

"Tell them, tomorrow is the time for the general attack." This is fundamentally meaningless; if the enemy were willing to accept his terms, they would have done so already.

Moreover, the person inside the city is not Edmund, nor any other lord; there is no possibility of reconciliation between him and the current city lord.

Having said that, he returned to his own camp and, with the officers, settled the attack plan for early tomorrow.

After the meeting ended, he wanted to lie down and rest, but tossing and turning, he simply could not fall asleep.

People say that those who can sleep soundly before a great battle are true brave generals and fierce commanders, but he feels that those who can sleep soundly before a great battle are mostly fools and idiots.

"Your Highness!" In his hazy state, he suddenly heard a voice from outside.

"Your Highness!"

He was certain it was an acquaintance, so, with sleepy eyes, he walked past attendant William Priston and opened the tent's door.

"If anyone from the Golden Regiment comes over to surrender, you had better speak up quickly." He looked at Tathos, but Tathos remained silent.

"The news is becoming ever more brutal, Your Highness." After saying that, Tathos handed over a letter, "I worried that trivial matters would disturb your rest, so I opened it first, but I am certain what is written has nothing to do with trivialities."

He felt his heart sink, and thus, in a daze, he raised his severed limb to receive the letter; realizing the problem, he then wearily took it again with his left hand.

"I don't want to burn my own beard," he looked at Tathos, "tell me what the news is."

"Your Highness, please mourn, the King of Toman has been assassinated."