Game of Thrones: Joffrey the Chosen

The archers of Stormlands felt confident of victory.

They have an army of 30,000.

Although half of them were taken away by Lord Renly, the remaining 10,000-plus men were more than enough to deal with Stannis's few thousand remaining soldiers and the cowards in King's Landing.

All we need to do is wait until they have all crossed the Blackwater River and are on the north bank.

First defeat Stannis, then conquer King's Landing, and I can chop off those two bastards' heads in no time.

Then Lord Renly can rightfully become the Regent and Protector of the Realm.

The meritorious officials will be richly rewarded, and they will receive a share of the gold from the national treasury.

And the pretty girls in the city.

They've seen it all clearly these past few days.

Stannis's men, the so-called elite of Dragonstone, the so-called pirate outlaws, were shot down by a few volleys of arrows and fled in panic.

As for the defenders of King's Landing?

Hmph, they've been surrounded for days, and they haven't dared to utter a single word.

This shows that they are all a bunch of weak, cowardly wimps.

There isn't a single one who can fight...

"Ahhhhh—"

What's that strange noise?

The storm archers turned and looked in the direction of the sound.

A line of knights rushed in.

"Spearmen! Where are the spearmen!"

"Where are our spearmen! Help them!"

But where are the spearmen?

They had only 4,000 men crossing the river, and most of them had already landed. They quickly donned their gear and began fighting Stannis's men.

We originally planned to wait until there were more people before going up, but those people from Vulture Nest Fortress were too impatient and insisted on taking the credit.

As a result, everyone was dragged into the chaos.

The storm archers wanted to retreat, but found there was nowhere to retreat.

To the south lies the Blackwater River, and the people on the river, completely unaware of what was happening, continued to row with all their might towards this side.

To the west lies an endless plain.

Two legs can't outrun four legs.

In a daze.

Joffrey and his cavalry are about to approach.

"Raise your shields!"

The enemy archers were in complete disarray; some were fleeing, while others were still futilely drawing their bows and firing arrows.

Arrows whizzed by, striking the knights' plate armor with a clanging sound before bouncing away weakly.

The knights, relying on their thick armor, charged straight in.

Those with shields simply protected their faces.

The difference between an archer and a crossbowman is now crystal clear.

Due to the design of crossbows, they primarily use clipped arrows.

This type of arrow has a thin, long bar behind the arrowhead. During installation, glue is applied to the bar, which is then inserted directly into the arrow shaft.

It has a more stable structure and stronger penetrating power, but it is also more expensive and more complicated to manufacture.

Archers use a large number of arrows, mostly socketed arrows.

That is, the common type, where the arrow shaft is sharpened and inserted into the arrowhead socket.

To put it bluntly.

One was a stab wound, and the other was a slash wound.

Because Joffrey wasn't very good with his spear, and he had learned a lesson from his unlucky uncle.

He specifically brought a sword and shield when he left the city this time, in case he was hit by stray arrows.

However, these worries are unnecessary.

First of all, the arrow-making craftsmanship in Westeros was never very good to begin with. Blacksmiths spent their entire lives figuring out how to better penetrate the cotton or leather armor of soldiers.

If someone could actually make an armor-piercing arrow that could penetrate the plate armor of a nobleman.

They'll lose their heads before the program even gets off the ground.

This shows that Jaime's tribulation was entirely arranged by the gods.

Secondly, Joffrey wasn't the one who was at the forefront and got hit by the arrow.

His horse was already fast, but the others were even faster.

Hundreds of knights sped up and blocked his way.

Three more Imperial Guards stood guard around him.

James' right arm wasn't fully healed yet, and he was unwilling to let it go to waste.

This man, once again displaying his reckless nature, didn't even bring a shield and took on the role of standard-bearer.

He gripped the crowned stag tightly with his left hand, the flagpole pointing straight to the sky, swaying gently as he ran.

We are fifty paces away from the enemy.

Joffrey swung his longsword down, pointing it straight ahead.

"Charge!"

The cold, hard spears and lances were laid flat one after another.

Iron hooves flew swiftly.

The heavy cavalry charged into the archers' positions, who were only equipped with short swords and daggers, as easily as a hot knife through butter, moving in and out as if there were no people there.

Countless sharp blades pierced his chest and back.

Some knights were so strong that after piercing through, they would forcefully pull and tear the enemy's body apart, continuing their charge towards the next target.

Cries of agony filled the air, and flesh and black mud were trampled together.

Joffrey did not linger in the fight.

"Withdraw! Regroup!"

After passing through the enemy lines, he immediately led his team out of the enemy ranks and rearranged their formation on the flank.

"Wheel formation! Charge again!"

Those who had just failed were placed at the front, using their spears to create openings for the others.

The others drew their longswords or maces and scattered into the crowd, hacking and smashing indiscriminately.

Joffrey found his target, swung the sword horizontally, and the blade sliced ​​across his waist and abdomen, immediately creating a horrific wound.

The man screamed in agony, clutching his body as he slowly went limp, blood gushing from between his fingers.

Someone threw a dagger at us with all their might.

Joffrey dodged to the side, only to find the dagger embedded in the ground three meters away from him.

He spurred his horse forward and used the momentum to thrust forward.

The longsword pierced through his chest, its tip protruding from his back. Then, with a flick of his wrist, a spray of blood appeared.

Three hundred cavalrymen charged through the enemy lines with unstoppable force, while over a thousand archers were driven back in terror, unable to offer any resistance.

They charged toward the riverbank, hoping to be protected by reinforcements.

"Fall back!" Joffrey ordered.

"Fall back!" the crowd shouted in unison.

To kill someone with a crossbow, all you need to do is pull the trigger from a distance, and with a "thud," someone will fall to the ground.

Killing someone with a sword is a completely different feeling.

Due to the limitations of his helmet, Joffrey's vision was limited to a narrow slit in front of him.

All he could see were the people in front of him and that tiny patch of blood-red world.

All the skills he had ever learned were completely forgotten at this moment; all he could do was the simplest stabbing and slashing.

Raise your hand.

Let go.

One by one, lives were taken away.

In those eyes that met by chance, Joffrey could only see boundless fear.

"Ha ha ha ha!"

The little devil laughed loudly to the side, waving the steel battle axe in his hand.

Bloodstains covered his axe blade and his arm, shining brighter in the sunlight than his red armor.

"The Prime Minister's infantry will be here soon," James said.

Surprisingly, he was the calmest person present.

Joffrey looked around and noticed that the Blackwater River had somehow ended up on his right.

King's Landing and the charging infantry were on his left.

The fully armed man in the golden robe, holding a sword and shield, stood at the forefront, while the new recruits followed behind, clutching long spears.

The mercenaries and Setiga's troops were deployed on the left and right flanks.

Led by Ed, they formed a linear formation and rushed toward the battlefield.

But after running only a few dozen steps, it starts to become scattered.

The ones in front are moving too fast, the ones behind are moving too slow, and the people in the middle don't know whether to chase or wait.

Ed had to stop and regroup.

Joffrey looked away.

Most of the Storm Archers had already retreated to the riverbank, while the rest scattered and fled; pursuing them would be a waste of time.

Joffrey looked ahead.

There, Stannis's army and the Stormlands' infantry were still locked in fierce combat, their swords clashing and their battle cries deafening.

Many backs were exposed there.

Joffrey raised his sword.

"Gentlemen, come with me to fuck their asses!"