NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 15: Chapter 14: The North Breaks Through
The Bells Still Toll
The bells had not stopped ringing.
The sound carried over the battlefield, mingling with the cries of the wounded and the clash of steel.
Smoke curled into the sky from burning homes, and the streets of Stoney Sept ran red with blood.
Jon Connington's forces held firm, blocking every path to Robert Baratheon, who was still trapped within the town.
The rebels outside had tried to break through, but they were losing ground.
Then—
A horn shattered the night air.
Deep. Powerful.
The North had come.
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The Grey Tide Rises
The ground trembled beneath the weight of thousands of boots.
Eddard Stark rode at the head of the host, his face grim and determined, a cold wind in human form.
Behind him, banners fluttered in the night. House Karstark, House Glover, House Manderly, House Umber—each house bringing its best warriors to the field.
Moat Cailin had slowed them, the crossing through the Neck had nearly broken them, but the North had arrived intact—and hungry for battle.
But the first to strike was no lord.
No knight of noble birth.
It was a soldier.
It was a captain.
It was Steve Rogers.
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The Spearhead – A One-Man Charge
Steve sprinted ahead of the cavalry, ahead of the shield walls.
"One push," he told himself, "one hard push to break the lines."
Behind him, the full might of the Northern host followed, but he would be the first.
The enemy saw him coming.
A dozen Connington soldiers braced, shields locked, spears angled forward.
Steve did not slow down.
His shield came up—
Then he leapt.
His entire body twisted midair, shield raised above his head as he crashed down into the center of the enemy formation like a hammer striking an anvil.
The shockwave rippled through their ranks.
Men staggered from the impact, some falling, others opening their guard—and that's when he struck.
A brutal left hook.
A knee to the gut.
His shield smashed through another soldier's jaw.
"Don't stop. Don't slow down."
An axe swung for his ribs.
Steve twisted. The weapon glanced off his shield.
His boot snapped forward—the attacker hit the ground, unmoving.
He pushed forward, forcing a breach wide enough for the North to pour through.
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Eddard Stark's Strategy – The North Follows
Eddard Stark saw the gap.
"Now."
"Hold the flanks," he commanded, voice calm but sharp as a blade. "We push straight through. The moment the center collapses, we drive them to the walls."
The Northern cavalry surged forward in a disciplined wedge formation.
The young Lord Karstark and his riders took the left, while Lord Wyman Manderly's heavy infantry followed closely, their shields and axes gleaming in the torchlight.
At Eddard's right rode Roose Bolton and his men, their pale armor and emotionless faces making them seem almost spectral in the night.
"Forward!" Stark bellowed.
The Northern tide crashed into the enemy ranks.
They did not break.
They carved through.
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A Bloody Push Through the Streets
The battle turned to chaos.
Connington's men, well-trained and battle-hardened, resisted fiercely, their experience outweighing their numbers.
But the North was disciplined.
They did not overextend.
They did not waste their charge.
They cut, crushed, and advanced.
Eddard drove his longsword through an enemy's throat and twisted it free just in time to parry a strike from the side.
Beside him, Lord Manderly's men pummeled through infantry, their sheer bulk and size allowing them to crush any resistance in their way.
The Karstarks fought with cold precision, every thrust calculated, every block deliberate.
And Roose Bolton's forces?
They did not scream.
They did not roar.
They killed silently, cutting down their foes with eerie precision as they moved through the streets.
And at the very front—
Steve Rogers was still pushing forward.
His shield deflected an incoming sword—he countered with a brutal backhand strike.
A pike came from behind—he spun, grabbing the weapon mid-thrust and yanking its wielder off balance before knocking him unconscious with a single well-placed strike.
His body burned from exertion, but he did not stop.
"I need to get inside. I need to reach Robert."
He fought not as a king, not as a conqueror—
But as a soldier.
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Jon Connington Realizes the Threat
From the highest tower of Stoney Sept, Jon Connington watched in horror.
The North wasn't just charging.
They were systematically cutting through his men.
The man at the vanguard, the one with the shield—he was a force of nature.
"Who in the Seven Hells is that?"
Jon's mind raced.
"The rebels shouldn't have broken through so fast. The streets should have held. The North should have been slowed down by our fortifications."
But they hadn't been.
And now, Steve Rogers was at the gates.
And beyond that?
The town square.
Where Robert Baratheon was waiting.
Jon turned to his second-in-command. "Reinforce the square. If we lose that, we lose the battle."
His officers hesitated.
They looked out at the battlefield.
They saw the Northern banners already inside the town.
They saw the wolves of Stark closing in.
And for the first time, fear began to creep into their ranks.
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The Push to the Square
The North pressed forward.
Step by step.
Street by street.
The town walls belonged to them now.
The final stand was near.
Steve reached the inner gate leading to the town square.
Robert Baratheon was somewhere beyond.
"Almost there."
He looked back.
The North was still moving forward.
Eddard Stark met his gaze and nodded.
"Let's finish this."
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