Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen

Chapter 285: March of the Giants

"My terms have never changed! It is you, King-Beyond-the-Wall, who keeps altering them," Viserys mocked mercilessly. Mance accepted the taunt with calm resolve.

"Then let's set the time—two days from now. We'll fight again in two days!" Mance declared.

The giants watched as red-haired Ygritte circled to their sides, then to their backs. Though they had no idea what she was up to, both Mance and their leader, Mag, kept their eyes on the red figure.

As the giants and the free folk began to depart, Viserys turned back and asked, "How far is our trebuchet from here?"

The reason he had brought the cavalry to harass Mance was twofold: first, to buy time for the trebuchets to be transported, and second, to wear down the giants by depleting the food in their bellies.

'The plan is working,' Viserys thought with satisfaction. 'Whether Mance has second thoughts or not, he cannot escape what I've set in motion. Dealing with these free people isn’t worth my full strength.'

His thoughts drifted toward Craster’s side of the conflict. Craster’s woman was close to giving birth—likely within the next few days. Viserys had ordered Orell and Alliser to keep watch over Craster’s Keep. Orell, ever thorough, had scoured every inch of the land surrounding the keep but had found no trace of the White Walkers.

'How, then, are Craster’s descendants sacrificed?' Viserys wondered, darkly amused. 'Is it as simple as “dig a hole, bury some dirt, count to five”?'

This was the first time Viserys found himself so fixated on the cry of a newborn child—something that hadn’t happened in either of his lives. But soon enough, his attention returned to Mance, and the impending battle.

"Your Grace, it looks like they’ve brought some catapults by boat!" Ygritte reported breathlessly to Mance, who exhaled in relief.

Mance, once a member of the Night’s Watch, was intimately familiar with their tactics and weapons. He knew well that trebuchets, despite their intimidating size, were notoriously inaccurate. Even the Night’s Watch, defending from the high ground atop the Wall, favored crossbows over the cumbersome war machines.

Mance had anticipated Viserys using some form of ranged weapon, which was why he had previously given the giants large cauldrons to use as shields. The round cauldrons were just the right size for the massive creatures. Regaining his confidence, Mance arrived at the agreed location after three previous skirmishes.

This time, there was no pre-battle banter. Both sides dispensed with the usual exchange of insults, focusing instead on readying their armies.

On Viserys’s side, the only real concern was the twenty trebuchets. Each trebuchet required two catapults to fire a net, making it a bit of a logistical challenge. But the soldiers manning the machines had been well-trained, successfully firing nine times out of ten—an impressive rate.

Viserys positioned the hundred men needed to operate the catapults, while placing the remaining two hundred spearmen at the front. Mance, however, had far more troops. He deployed the giants to lead his front lines, flanked by one hundred men on both the left and right, attempting to encircle Viserys’s forces.

"Everyone, listen up! Look at that black banner! It’s the Targaryen king! The Dragonlord has an endless supply of food! If we capture him, we’ll never go hungry again!" Mance gave his final rallying cry to the freefolk warriors.

Tormund, watching, had his own thoughts. 'Viserys is just a bit older, a bit better looking, and taller... but we’ve got men just as tall.' In terms of physical strength and combat skill, Tormund figured Viserys was no different from the soldiers of the Night’s Watch. 'If I could beat him once, all these problems would be solved.'

Coincidentally, Viserys was thinking much the same. 'If I can defeat a leader like Tormund or Rattleshirt in personal combat, it’ll crush their morale.' In that case, even if Mance returned, the free folk might not rally to him as they had before. At the very least, they’d hesitate.

...

Tormund blew the horn, signaling the charge. The giants’ heavy footsteps thundered across the ground, but their massive size made them slower than a cavalry charge. It lacked the terrifying speed of galloping horses.

Among Viserys’s soldiers were mercenaries from the Golden Company. Though they’d never faced giants before, they had fought war elephants. 'Large targets like these aren’t as frightening as people think,' the mercenaries knew. 'Bows, arrows, spears—those are what’s needed.'

Despite the giants’ charge, Viserys’s formation held firm. His soldiers remained disciplined, unfazed by the approaching behemoths. Viserys himself was calmly calculating the distance between the giants and the trebuchets, waiting for the right moment.

Mance, observing from a distance, was stunned. 'No one… no one stands against a giant's charge.' In his mind, there was no force north of the Wall capable of stopping them—especially when so many charged at once.

He locked eyes on Viserys, wondering how exactly the dragonlord king planned to deal with this unstoppable force. Just then, a series of sounds echoed across the battlefield. Mance watched as Viserys gave the order, and the trebuchets were launched. But instead of stones, something else flew from the catapults—something that looked like it was made of ash.

"Cover yourselves with steel!" Tormund bellowed as he charged alongside the giants.

The massive creatures raised their cauldrons, using them as shields while they thundered forward at full speed. Stones from the trebuchets struck the cauldrons, denting the metal but doing little harm. However, something unexpected happened next.

The stones weren’t the only thing being launched—they were attached to heavy fishing nets. As the nets unfurled, they draped over the giants' dense formation. Some nets partially covered the giants, while the rest trailed along the ground like a long, flowing cloak. When the giants behind stepped on the trailing nets, they unintentionally yanked the giants ahead of them.

The nets pulled taut. Instead of tearing, they tightened like ropes, binding the giants together. More nets fell from above, and despite the giants' strength, over seventy or eighty of them became hopelessly entangled. They looked like enormous insects caught in a spider's web, thrashing desperately but unable to break free. The harder they struggled, the more the nets constricted, and some giants injured themselves in their frantic attempts to escape.

Mance's eyes widened in disbelief, his heart racing as he watched his mighty giants ensnared. His stomach twisted, and a chill ran up the back of his neck. The soldiers he had thought were standing against the giants suddenly split into two groups and began advancing in a pincer movement toward him.

Then, he saw it—the red dragon banner. Viserys himself was charging straight at him.

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