Hoofbeats clattered.
Guided by the scout, Galon led the group northwest along the pine forest for about ten minutes.
They soon reached the edge of the forest.
Five scouts stationed there had tied their horses to the pines behind them and were using the cover of shrubs and brush to observe the slope below.
Hearing the approaching hoofbeats, they turned alertly, then relaxed when they saw Galon arriving with the group. They quickly came forward to meet him.
Galon swung down from his horse and asked, "What's the situation?"
"Lord Galon, look there."
One of the scouts took a few steps out of the forest and pointed downslope as he reported, "There are signs of smoke rising over there."
Galon followed the direction of the scout's finger.
While there was still enough light to see clearly, he looked out from the higher ground.
Beyond the pine forest, a green hillside rolled downward into a series of low hills. Farther out, waves crashed against the shoreline.
From the slope, Galon could see a thin plume of blue smoke rising from a hollow between two hills.
The hilltops blocked his view, making it impossible to see who was tending the fire.
Galon gauged the distance between his group and the smoke and carefully surveyed the surrounding area. He did not spot any wildling caves nearby.
Jon stepped up beside him and said quietly, "Galon, judging by the location, the people making that fire probably aren't wildlings."
"The smoke is very close to the coast. Could it be pirates or poachers?"
Galon nodded in agreement. "That's possible."
Jon asked again, "So what do we do now?"
Galon narrowed his eyes, staring at the rising smoke. After a moment's thought, he made his decision.
"We move closer and see what's really going on."
He turned to Mihawk and the others behind him and gave his orders.
"Everyone dismount."
"Mihawk, leave fifteen men behind to watch the horses."
"The rest will follow me on foot. Stay hidden."
Once the orders were given, everyone dismounted and adjusted their weapons. Mihawk called out a few names, ordering those men to remain behind with the horses.
Seeing that everything was ready, Galon raised his hand decisively and led the group toward the hills.
About twenty minutes later, they reached the top of a ridge.
Galon pressed himself against the slope and cautiously peeked downward.
What he saw made his pupils contract.
Thirty to forty men wearing crude leather armor, their hair greasy and matted, were lounging in small groups against rocks, resting.
Their weapons were scattered casually nearby.
Several of them were sitting around a campfire, roasting fish skewered on branches.
Galon recognized them at a glance.
"..Ironborn."
Jon lay beside Galon and whispered, "They actually dared to come ashore. Does this mean the Iron Islands are really going to war with the North?"
"Lord, lets kill them."
Mihawk lay on Galon's other side and volunteered eagerly. "They haven't noticed us yet. One volley from our bows will wipe out most of them."
"The rest won't be a threat at all."
Galon did not immediately agree. His gaze swept across the surrounding hills as he continued to observe the terrain.
He wasn't worried about the thirty or forty Ironborn below, but about the possibility of more Ironborn near the coast.
If they alerted others, more enemies might arrive. Even if his men could retreat, the cost would be heavy.
These troops were elite forces he had painstakingly trained.
Losing them here would be unbearable.
Yet doing nothing was not an option either. The enemy had already come to his doorstep. Failing to strike back would be a joke.
"Fast and decisive."
"Mihawk, spread out the archers. Cripple them in the first strike."
Mihawk nodded eagerly. "Yes, my lord!"
Seeing his confidence, Galon smiled. "You've trained for so long. It's time I saw what you can really do."
Mihawk bared his teeth in a bloodthirsty grin. "We won't disappoint you."
With no further instructions, he waved his hand. A unit of leather-armored soldiers with longbows slipped away silently to either side like hunting cats.
"Galon, what about us?"
Jon, seeing Mihawk already in motion, was itching to act. "You're not going to make us stand here and watch the archers steal the show, are you?"
"Be patient," Galon replied calmly. "You'll have your turn."
Jon reluctantly held himself back, waiting for further orders. Nearby, Mihawk had already begun issuing commands.
"Use piercing arrows. Long range."
Dozens of archers drew slim, narrow arrows from their quivers, nocked them, and aimed at the Ironborn below.
Just as the bowstrings were about to reach full draw, a vigilant Ironborn by the fire suddenly looked up.
His eyes caught a faint glint of reflected light along the ridge.
Arrowheads.
"Ambush! There's an ambush on the hill!"
He instinctively grabbed his axe and shouted a warning.
"Fire!"
Since they had been spotted, Mihawk no longer bothered to stay hidden. He drew and loosed an arrow with a sharp whistle.
At his signal, his men released their arrows in unison.
For a moment, the sky seemed filled with a rain of arrows pouring down the hillside.
"Dodge! Take cover!"
The Ironborn leader shouted hoarsely, using rocks for cover as he tried to evade the volley.
But it was already too late.
In just one round, more than ten Ironborn were wounded or killed.
Screams filled the air.
"Damn it, charge them!"
One Ironborn grabbed his axe and charged uphill without hesitation, using the rocks for cover.
The first volley had ended.
As Mihawk's men prepared to loose a second, he raised his hand to stop them.
"Switch to heavy arrows. Fire at fifty meters."
The archers quickly swapped their arrows for thick, heavy shafts and took aim at the Ironborn advancing uphill.
The Ironborn leader roared and led the remaining men in a fearless charge.
He didn't know why the enemy had stopped shooting, but he wasn't about to waste the opportunity.
Eighty meters. Seventy. Sixty.
As the distance closed, Jon felt his heart tighten for Mihawk.
He could already clearly see the Ironborn's twisted faces and murderous intent.
Fifty meters.
"Loose!"
At Mihawk's command, the heavy arrows flew.
They struck like battering rams.
The leading Ironborn stared in disbelief at his chest as the leather armor there tore like paper. The arrow punched straight through him, bursting out his back.
The sheer force flung his body backward.
Others were even less fortunate, struck by three arrows at once and torn apart in an instant.
Galon rose from the slope, his eyes shining as he watched the new bow's first real combat performance.
"Good. Very good."
"Mihawk, leave a few alive. I want to question them myself."
Hearing this, Mihawk immediately ordered his men to continue firing.
At the same time, Jon could no longer hold back and led his ten-man squad charging downhill.
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