Game of Thrones: Lord of the Flames

"Why haven't they broken through yet?" asked a young wildling, his tone laced with irritation.

The speaker had a long, horse-like face, dark skin, and a sturdy, muscular frame. Around his neck hung a necklace made of animal fangs.

Experienced hunters could tell these were all tiger fangs, each one marking him as a member of the Tiger Fang Clan, a renowned tribe in the Red Mountains.

For the warriors of the Tiger Fang Clan, hunting tigers was the highest honor. After a warrior killed a tiger, he would take its largest, sharpest fang and wear it as a trophy. This man's necklace was densely adorned with such fangs, including one that was over five inches long—a testament to the size and strength of the beasts he had felled.

Beside him stood two other young men, who closely resembled him in appearance. Their own necklaces were also crowded with tiger fangs.

These three were the famed "Three Brothers of Valor," sons of the chieftain of the Tiger Fang Clan, one of the strongest tribes in the region. The eldest was Chika, followed by his brothers Chimu and Chiman.

After discovering the settlers' trail, the three brothers had begun gathering warriors from neighboring tribes, aiming to drive these invaders out of their territory. The wildling tribes of the Red Mountains often fought amongst themselves, but when it came to facing the riverlanders, they were natural allies.

Seeing that the settlers had brought over two hundred well-armed, well-trained soldiers, the three brothers held back, shadowing the settlers from a distance while they gathered more warriors.

By the time the settlers reached their destination and began setting up camp, Chika grew anxious.

He could tell that the settlers had chosen a strategically defensive valley. If the riverlanders managed to fortify this camp—or, worse, build a castle—the wildlings would lose control over this land for good.

Thanks to the fearsome reputation of the Tiger Fang Clan, they'd managed to rally over two thousand wildling warriors, yet Chika still hesitated to launch a full assault.

Against the riverlanders' regular soldiers, the wildlings were disadvantaged in weaponry and strength. Only with an advantage of ten-to-one or more would they dare to attack head-on.

Though they now had that numerical advantage, the riverlanders held the high ground in the valley, so Chika had been waiting for even more wildling reinforcements.

However, he couldn't wait too long, as the settlers were likely to complete additional defenses over time. In the end, he sent raiding parties to harass the settlers, hoping to delay their fortifications and test their fighting capabilities. They even captured two scouts who had ventured out alone.

What happened next surprised Chika, though. The riverlanders responded with unusual intensity, as if their camp had been swarmed by hornets. By evening, over a hundred fully armed soldiers had marched out, searching for their missing comrades.

This pleased Chika. The captured scouts had revealed that the settler force consisted of two hundred soldiers, half of whom were Tyrell family regulars, while the other half were newly recruited levies.

Now, that main force of Tyrell soldiers had left the camp! This was the perfect chance.

As a skilled hunter, Chika knew never to hesitate when prey exposed a weakness.

As soon as he confirmed that the Tyrell troops were out of range, he ordered the attack on the camp.

To Chika, the thought of a hundred newly trained recruits and a so-called "useless noble" holding a defensive position—even with favorable terrain—was laughable. How could they possibly withstand an assault by over two thousand wildling warriors?

But as the battle began, he sensed something was wrong.

The resistance within the camp was far fiercer than expected. The narrow, shadowed valley entrance seemed an endless abyss, devouring the lives of his warriors.

"It should fall soon," said Chiman, the youngest of the three, trying to sound reassuring. "There are only about a hundred green soldiers inside the camp. By now, they must have suffered heavy losses."

"And our warriors?" asked a chieftain from one of the allied tribes. "How many have we lost so far?"

The question brought a tense silence over the group.

Under the cover of darkness, none could see the extent of the losses.

All they heard were the sounds of violent combat and the thick stench of blood.

The eldest, Chika, abruptly stood up and unsheathed his blade.

"I'll go in myself and lead the charge!"

At his words, the gathered wildlings looked relieved, as if the moment their famed warrior entered the fray, victory would be assured.

Chika took only a few steps before feeling a hand grasp his arm.

"What is it, Chiman?"

His youngest brother, Chiman, leaned in, whispering urgently:

"Brother, something feels off. This could be a trap."

"A trap?" Chika paused, frowning.

"Yes. Think about it—if we keep struggling to break through this camp and those Tyrell soldiers return unexpectedly, what would happen?"

Chika's eyes widened briefly, but he quickly narrowed them again.

Clapping his brother on the shoulder, he replied:

"You may be right, but it's too late to turn back. You and Chimu keep watch behind us. If the Tyrell soldiers come back, hold them off at all costs. Once I break through the valley, this battle is ours, and every riverlander inside will die!"

With that, Chika strode off without hesitation.

Chiman sighed inwardly.

He knew his brother was right. Realizing it was a trap now wouldn't help; their warriors were packed tightly within the valley entrance, and retreat would be impossible. More importantly, if they fled without a fight, the Tiger Fang Clan's reputation would be destroyed.

At this point, the three brothers had only one choice: forward, not back.

As Chiman prepared himself mentally, a wildling ran up, shouting in alarm:

"They're back! The Tyrell soldiers are returning!"

Chiman's heart sank. They had indeed fallen into the trap.

But he knew that panicking now would spell disaster. If fear took root, the loosely allied wildling force would likely collapse.

Turning to the others, he forced a calm smile and declared loudly:

"Why worry? It's only a hundred soldiers. I'll take three hundred warriors and hold them off!"

Inspired by Chiman's bravery, the wildlings around him steadied themselves, many muttering praises of the Three Brothers of Valor.

Knowing they needed to act fast, Chiman quickly found his second brother, Chimu, and gathered three hundred warriors, arranging them in ranks outside the valley to confront the approaching Tyrell soldiers.

As he eyed the advancing Tyrell forces, Chiman forced himself to keep calm, quelling the worry gnawing at him.

So what if it was a trap?

As one of the finest warriors of the Tiger Fang Clan, Chiman had skirted the edge of death countless times.

But never had he allowed an enemy to see his back.

"Warriors of the mountains, charge with me!"

(End of Chapter)