Chapter 15
The Nest, the next day, 234 BC
Bodies littered the fortress, hundreds and hundreds of dead men; nearly everyone he saw was a Valeman. Thousands of those good seven fearing men who had bravely assaulted the walls even as all around them their allies fell dead or dying shouting in pain. The warrior would welcome them with an outstretched arm, and the stranger would be just behind awaiting the dead, the brave men who died for the faith of the Seven into the realm beyond. Yes, the Seven-pointed-star said it was so, and so it would be. 12,000 Vale souls had passed into the Seven heavens leaving him with just 23,000 men to hold the keep. However, his healers and septons told him another 4,000 would either die of their wounds or be crippled by them. Leaving him with just 19,000 men unless a plague or infection were to spread upon his host though his septons assured him such a thing would not happen as the Seven were with him and his men.
And how could they not be? His men were fighting and slaughtering the pagan Riverlanders and the good Seven worshipers who had been led astray by their vile beliefs and practices. He had made sure from the very start that his host had the backing of the gods; women of all kinds had been banned from his camp, whores, washerwomen and even septas to resist his men the temptation of the female body. He brought along more septons than he did squires, and they prayed twice daily with the men, preaching the Seven-pointed-star as the army marched and even as they stormed the walls of this Seven despoiling fortress. His men fought for a valiant cause valiantly and would one day be remembered as icons of the Seven and heroes to their peoples, of that Hugh had no doubt.
Grimacing as a body bearing the visage of the Corbrays blocked his path, he motioned for one of his guards to throw it over the outer curtain wall, which was half destroyed and stained in some places with sticky dark scarlet blood. This body must have fallen early on in the battle and had been left rather than thrown over the walls like the others for some reason. The smell from this one was awful and made him want to have a bath instantly. When one of his guards lifted it to throw it over the wall, he saw why, the poor soul had been disembowelled, his stomach slit open and his intestines spilling out. The outer flesh appeared rotted and green infection of some sort had set in even on the dead body, it was a truly disgusting sight, and he vomited over the side of the walls.
Wiping his mouth and turning away from the body that was being tossed over the wall, he saw the remaining parts of his entourage standing dumbly behind him.
"Well, don't just stand there, get me a drink and get rid of the bodies." He spat at the fools.
"What should be done with the dead, my king?" Asked his idiot nephew. Jamie was much like his father and Hugos brother had been. A damned fool who would rather study the blade than the Seven-pointed-star, and yet the boy was barely better than some of his knights, unlike his brother Layton who had been a brilliant swordsman before the shivers took him. Undoubtedly the gods punished his impiousness. The boy was a cripple now, having lost a leg and hand to the rivermen, only surviving due to the Septon who stood beside him as his leg was amputated.
"Bury our dead in large graves with septons blessing them, take out the eyes of the Riverlander dead and mount their heads on spikes, burn their bodies and let the wind take them to the deepest of the seven hells." Hugo demanded, "Not you cripple, you stay here." he spat when his idiot nephew began to walk away with the others.
"What is it, my king?" Asked the cripple.
"What news of our southern allies and our reinforcements?" He demanded.
"The Darklyns are gathering their hosts to march north though they say a Blackwood army is marching south to face them."
"How many men are in it? Who leads it?"
"I do not know my King; they did not say."
"What use are you then? Find out!" He spat, "And what about our reinforcements?"
"The Royces, Redforts, Waynwoods, Hunters and Belmores have united the men they have not sent to us. Around 12,000 in total, Lord Royce writes that your promise assured him of the Seven keeping watch over the lands and that he believes any enemy fleet will be swept up in a storm and destroyed. He and his men would replenish our numbers and give us around 31,000 men to field against the upcoming Blackwood host." Jamie said.
"Good, give the order; as soon as the Valemen arrive, we will march down the High Road and conquer the heathen Kingdom for our own and the Seven-who-are-one. In the meantime, send out men to raid the countryside, make the people see their King can't protect them, make them see that their gods hold no power. Make them see that the swords of the Seven will deliver them to the Fathers judgement and the Strangers embrace."
North of Sow's Horn, Two days later, 234 BC.
"The Nest has fallen." Kevan Mallister told them grimly after the ten thousand men who had been marching south towards the crownlands had been called to a halt so that the commanders may have an emergency meeting; Brynden had wondered why at first, but he had his answer now.
"How can this be?" Asked Duke Harltons heir, Finn Harlton.
"The defenders held the walls well at first, but the Valemen found a way through the mountains, a wide pass far to the east that had been completely impassable during the winter. Yet when the snow melted, a solid if slightly dangerous mountain pass allowed the Knights of the Vale to cross in all their armour and on their horses in small bands. Until they had enough to begin assaulting the walls, the initial few hundred were joined in the following days by more and more men until they had a large enough force to sustain the constant attacks and even beat back the Errenford men. Commander Clyde and his men fought valiantly but were hard-pressed to hold the wall without reinforcements from the west. The rangers succeeded in their task of sabotaging the siege equipment of both sides of the fortress. The fire spread across the western camp, and panic spread; Commander Clyde, sensing an opportunity, launched a desperate assault upon the western force, which was smaller yet more elite, consisting mostly of knights. Clyde knew that if he could catch them off guard, unarmoured and in chaos, and he managed to break their camp, he would be able to get reinforcements to replenish his numbers and allow him to once more concentrate on just one side. Unfortunately, his men were tired, and while initially, they gained much ground, they were eventually overwhelmed and cut down to a man." Duke Kevan said.
"It was a desperate attempt that would have stopped the war before it could begin if it had been successful. As it is though they failed and despite taking heavy casualties the Valemen hold the Nest and a force of 20,000 men gather not far from here." Jonos Adler said.
"And gather they do, yet they have not yet united." Kevan Mallister pointed out, "And that gives us an opportunity, Jonos, you and Finn will lead the cavalry south towards the Antlers where around 1,000 men have gathered according to the rangers, deal with them and return to us with haste." Ordered Kevan to his brother and the Harlton heir, who nodded in agreement, Bryndens father has given the older and more experienced Mallster overall command.
"Agreed, the Buckwells were late in gathering their men and were exposed and isolated." Said Finn Harlton, "2,000 Cavalry should be able to do the job."
"Agreed, where is the main Darklyn host, do you know?" Duke Jonos asked.
"Gathering at Duskendale still, around 16,000 have joined them as of yet while another 3,00 Rosby men will be joining them soon with the Buckwell men still at the Antlers. The death of Lord Buckwells wife delayed his march and gave us an opportunity," said Brynden, repeating the latest Ranger report he had been given.
"What will you two be doing while we are at the Antlers?" Asked Jonos.
"We will spread out and cause havoc as we march further into the Blackwater towards Rooks wrest, though we will not, of course, get too close." Said Duke Kevan. Brynden nodded in agreement, havoc would create discord and arguments amongst the disunited and famously uncooperative Blackwater lords. As they marched further into the enemy territory, it gave the enemy the illusion of confidence and purpose. In truth, they were only marching deeper so that they had more ground they could retreat from before they reached the Riverlands, and while some might say it just put them farther away from reinforcements, any warrior of any skill would know they were merely delaying. And while Brynden had little doubt someone as cunning as Donal Darkyln would be aware of what they were doing, it would plant seeds of doubt in the minds of other lords as to what their true intentions were; the little things added up as his father always said. They are easily thrown away and discounted but throwing away too many small things, and they mounted, and you would soon have mountainous problems on your hands rather than small ones.
"What about the Starks?" "What are they doing?" asked Finn though without any real accusation, the Stark, especially his mother, were highly respected in this part of the south.
"A force of 6,000 has gathered at White Harbour awaiting the order to embark upon the fleet and set sail to the Sisters." Said Kevan.
"And when will they get that order?" Asked Nathan Smallwood, the veteran brother of the Duke of Acorn Hall.
"When the fleet is nearing the Pebble. Right now, it has been launched and should be nearing Gulltown. Until then, however, they will remain as they are. However, my father writes that another force of 4,000 marched from the Neck and passed the Twins a week ago." Brynden said.
"I thought they would only be attacking from the sisters?" Asked Finn.
"Aye, so did we, but last winter was harsh and long, and even with the food we sent, the North is a large place, and the population is dispersed it would be impossible to make sure every village was catered for. Many more men than anticipated were willing to march south with steady pay and food." Answered Brynden, nodding to the Harlton heir.
"Indeed, the Northerners will join King Lucas' host while another 4,000 under Duke Charlton have begun to march to reinforce us. They will arrive within a week or so." Announced Duke Kevan, who was informed by the King just as Brynden was commander of the army. "Now, let us rest here until midday and then we shall restart our march towards our respective targets."
—-
Off the Coast of Gulltown, four days later, 234 BC.
"Is… Is that it?" Asked his younger brother.
Grinning, Kyle turned to his brother "It is, the mighty fleet of the Vale." He said, waving his hands towards the fifty or so ships sailing towards his fleet. His younger brother Florian looked from him to the ships and back again before smiling slightly.
"This does not seem very fair." The younger Mooton brother spoke, motioning towards the 120 ships that made up the eastern fleet of the Riverlands. 60 Longships, 40 of the huge Iron Fleet ones which were a match for a galley and twenty smaller, more nimble ones which, while decent enough in combat, were used more as screening ships to absorb fire before they retreated and went on rescue and recovery duty. 20 Essosi War Galleys, some captured and some bought, were a deadly opponent to take on and would pose a huge threat to any ship on the sea. Another 12 Westerosi Dromods were just as formidable, and the fleet was supplied and backed up by Carracks, cogs and transports which would be in reserve protected by the fleet.
"No, but war is not fair, and they made the mistake of coming out to face us, but overconfidence and carelessness would only make the odds more even." He told his brother, "Full battle positions." He ordered.
He commanded a fleet and the difference between commanding an army where they could not be more different like night and day. Whereas a commander had more direct control on the field and giving orders was just a simple matter of a few shouted commands in most Westerosi armies and horn and flag signals in the Blackwood armies, a naval commander had far less control. Sure, signal fires and flags worked well enough, but it was not the same. He had worked around this in what was his opinion was quite a smart way if a little undeveloped and unsustainable. A few basic strategies and setups were known by all crews; it allowed a coherent and organised attack to happen while not sacrificing time and making the opposition fleet react very quickly, which nearly always worked in his fleet's favour. Deciding on a screening tactic, his ship, the command and flagship a mighty Dromod called The Wing, signalled the tactic with a signal fire and yellow flag.
After a couple of minutes of forming, his fleet descended upon the Arryn one. At the front, the smaller longships craved through the water with masterful ease, even with the winds against them. On the right flank were the Drommods, which were slightly more nimble than the Essosi galleys but pact less of a punch. While the on the left was half of the larger Iron Fleet longships, which were much faster and more nimble than either the Galleys or Drommods but had less ranged capacity though just as good in boarding and ramming. The remaining few ships were distributed amongst the centre and reserve. In the centre were the War Galleys and his flagship and a few longships mixed in and the cogs and transports at the rear protected by a few longships and reserve ships.
The smaller longships got in range earlier and began to take fire, returning with their scorpion bolts. The Arryn fleet outmatched them, but it mattered little as the men on board skilfully spread out and made a series of baited movements and attacks, absorbing and avoiding fire all the while. They worked in packs to make difficult and complicated manoeuvres that had taken months of training on the open seas to master, but the results paid off as by the time his main force was in range and beginning their assault, the Vale fleet was in chaos. Small longships had caused them to lose any semblance of coherence as they forced them out of formation with hard drilled manoeuvres. Some ships were being boarded and burned, mostly the smaller ships, but it all helped to create panic and disorder; his ships could even be seen mixed among the enemy fleet sailing through the gaps in the Vale formation and causing mayhem. And while more than a handful of his ships were sinking, it was worth it, after all the longships were screening ships, their main purpose was to absorb ammunition and enemy fire. While the main fleet got into position and their secondary task was to cause chaos, they had succeeded in doing as now the armaments of the fleet of the Riverlands began to fire upon the Vale fleet.
Some ships had drifted way too far out of formation to escape being hunted down in packs by the smaller, quicker longships, but they were quickly dealt with by other Riverlander ships without issue, swallowed up and sunk, never to be seen again. Other ships sunk under overwhelming ranged fire from the catapults and scorpions and even more still were smashed by the rams of the Eastern Blackwood fleet. The enemy flagship was hit on both sides by War Galleys and by two Longships while his ship did not do more than fire its weapons. He saw the larger and more armoured ships descended upon by multiple longships, their oarsmen and crew killed easily by the well-trained men aboard the ships. Within half an hour, the enemy fleet was at the bottom of the sea with the few captured vessels heading into shallower waters and anchored as the rest of the fleet began its descent upon Gulltown.
The city itself was well defended, but its harbour defences were lacking, after all, it had been many, many years since a fleet had threatened the Vale. As such, all that protected the large port was a few towers and a chain sabotaged by the Kings rangers leaving it useless and the port ripe for the taken.
And take it they did, the ships descended upon the isolated and under defended city live rabid wolves at a corpse. Men jumped down from their ships and began their looting.
"Take 400 of our best and make sure discipline is maintained, I will not have our victory and names tarnished by raiding and brutality. Only those who resist are to be harmed, and rape and child murder are to be punished as if we are not sacking the city, the men know this and no excuses are to be allowed." He ordered his brother, who nodded and gathered his men.
For the rest of the night and into the hours of the morning, the population of the city was herded out of the city walls; those who resisted with violence were killed easily, after which few dared to raise a voice of concern. After the smallfolk had been herded out, baring the key nobles and aristocrats in the city, including the Grafton family, excluding the Lord and heir who was in the Vale host, were captured and imprisoned upon 'The Wing'. After that, the looting and burning began; septs were the first to be hit with their septons killed, they also barred from leaving. Everything of value was stolen, and after that, the statues were torn down and defiled, holy texts and records were used as kindling to burn the city to the ground, which happened not long after that though not before the buildings of the city were torn up and looted.
By the time the Riverlanders once more returned to their boats, Gulltown was aflame, and any valuables not looted would be destroyed in the fire. The fire would stay going for another three days, even as the raven decorated sails of the Blackwood fleet disappeared into the distance.
—-
Southeast of the Nest, five days later, 234 BC.
He observed his cousin and King with light concern. Lucas Blackwood was much changed since he began his gambit towards uniting the Riverlands. Now that goal was nearly completely done, all that remained was the Blackwater houses before the realm of the Justmans would be once more united. But the battles and trials they had faced to get there could be seen on his cousin's face and no doubt his own.
Lucas had always been handsome if somewhat more pretty than he might have liked. Still, now he was mostly past his years of fighting in the frontlines of every battle, slaying kings like they were merely dear to be hunted and making proud Kings of prestigious dynasties bow to him, well perhaps he was not past the last one, but he was not the young man he once though by no means was he old and was probably still the best swordsmen in the camp. Lucas was of a slightly above average height and was well-muscled and fit, if always a bit more on the skinny side though not some much that it affected him in any way. His hair which used to be worn short and shaved, was of a medium length with raven locks that curled to frame his face gave him a more regal and warrior-like appearance. Which was only added to by the short well kept beard that he had grown in a few years ago, the pitch-black hair of his head contrasting to his healthy pale skin and sharp blue eyes nicely.
But while his cousin's eyes remained the same shocking blue colour, that even as a teen could freeze a maiden with a crippling blush and an enemy with crippling fear. His cousin's eyes had lost any bit of innocence left in them, replaced by a hard and severe look that only disappeared when with those he liked or trusted impeccably. It was a testament then to the men gathered in the command tent after the main war council had concluded that Lucas's eyes lost their hard look and looked upon the gathered men with respect and a listening ear. Seven men, including himself and the King, stood in the council chamber.
To Lucas's left was Duke Hugo Tully, Lucas's cousin and trusted friend, a fine warrior but like his father, the late Axel Tully, was a better diplomat and politician. Shrewd, calculating, intelligent and loyal, the man was as good as they came and was the one Lucas most often turned to for advice on diplomacy and such matters. Beside the Tully, Duke was Bryndens own father, aged and weathered yet still standing proudly and with as quick a mind as ever Tytos Blackwood, the treasurer of the Riverlands, observed the map in front of them with his usual mix of muted annoyance and meticulous problem-solving. His father was ageing now, only quickened by sweet Sara's passing over the winter and yet the cool observation and reasoning skills that made him so valuable to Lucas, aside from being kind and having a good relationship, of course, remained with little decline.
Beside Brynden, who stood at his cousin's right, was cunning Randyl Ryger, a clever man with a bad habit of knowing things he shouldn't know and the one most often on the receiving end of one of Lucas's glares. Nonetheless, Randyl was loyal and a good and not a sadistic schemer as some, including Brynden, got on their first impression. No, indeed, the older man intentionally gave off an aura of danger, unparalleled knowledge and distrust because he said that it made people with something to hide easy to spot. They would avoid the Ryger lord and sometimes close up into a shell whenever he made conversation with them. In truth, while Brynden had no doubt the Ryger Duke was as cunning as they came and would use that cunning to benefit his house, such as with the fosterage of his son Callum to Lucas. He was still loyal, if not to the Blackwoods and Lucas, then to the Riverlands and its best interests.
Jon Paege was the next man in the room, second son of the previous Count Paege and beloved brother of the current one; the man was something of a legend in the Riverlands. The man was cheery, approachable, and people who did not know him would often see him only as a laughing fool. And while that was at least partly true as the man never took much seriously, Jon Paege was certainly no fool as more than one unfortunate soul had found out when they tried to con him during the many trade deals he organised. He was, however, most famed for his absolute love of making people angry, and most famous of all was his antics in the Vale and, more recently, in the court of Duskendale. However, the Paege hid his keen intelligence and constantly moving mind behind that either charming or infuriating smile, often making a show of his intelligence after playing someone for a fool to piss them further off. Even Lucas was not immune to his joking, which was no less humorous while only ever done in private amongst friends. Often more so as Lucas would suffer it all with an equally mocking smile before firing back just as brutally to Jon Paeges eternal joy.
Next in line was Lyman Darry. His former good brother and father to his niece and nephew. Lyman Darry was a more well balanced noble. He was a competent administrator, decent politician, well-rounded commander and all-around good man. Kind yet firm, the Duke of Darry was the quietest of the gathered Lords, but when he spoke, men listened, and he was one of those few men who both Brynden and Lucas could trust with their lives and those of their family. Lyman, the lancer he was called, and while on his own, the man would only be a slightly above average general stick him at the head of a cavalry formation, and the enemy would fall like dominoes. He was an inspiring figure as brave and well-loved as they came, making him easy to follow in a cavalry charge. He also had a fast-working and intelligent mind which made him well suited for a role such as a cavalry commander. He was a Duke and his son and heir was still a teenager. Both his remaining brothers were scheming bastards, leading charges headlong into enemy formations was far too risky, and Lucas had sternly forbidden their friend from even asking to do so. Now, however, they were going over the events of the council and war.
"With Gulltown sacked can we be sure the Royces won't take that as a step too far? After all, we have destroyed the only city in the Vale and the only trade node east of the Mountains of the moon; it will cost a lot to rebuild." Asked Lyman.
"We can't, but we were never certain that they would rise up anyway; this way, we have struck a true blow to their economy, prestige and morale." Said Lucas.
"And boosted our own in the process." Pointed out Randyl Ryger.
"Agreed, it also gives the host the Royces have formed that was on its way to reinforce the Valemen to turn back and 'protect the coast line'" Said Jon Paege.
"Indeed, but whether they do it or not is anyone's guess. In truth, I don't even know if they will, many men were killed storming the Nest, and we did not discriminate between Andal or first men." his father said.
"True, but the Royces and their allies would have been aware that at least some of their forces would fall against the walls of the nest." Said Jon.
"Yes, they would have, but the sacking of Gulltown makes this alliance a bit more precarious than it already was. For all we know, one of those first men houses lost a family member or so at the Nest and have rethought their allegiance. Nonetheless, what happened at Gulltown was necessary. It will cause the Valemen to question the intelligence of their situation, to question their leadership as some of them no doubt already do. It makes it clear to them and to all those on the continent that we are not losing this war, the sacking of Gulltown hurts them just as much as the loss of the Nest does for us." Lucas said, "For now, the strategy we agreed to in the war council will continue but with a few changes."
"First of all, we will deploy the rangers and insert them into the army of the Vale; they will report to us details on plans, morale, schedules and everything else of note they can gather. We will continue with our fortifications in the surrounding lands and hit and run attacks on the Vale men who leave the Nest, Brynden, and you will lead 9,000 men and head towards Hunton and set up a forward camp there keep control of the High Road. The rest of us shall remain as we are here and keep gathering supplies and men. The Northmen should be joining us within two days, and a further 5,000 Rivermen will be joining us as well. Duke Charlton shall lead his men southwards at dawn. The rest of you retire for the night. This war is not done yet, and I need you at your best." Lucas told them.
Bowing, they all soon left, including Brynden, who began the walk back to his tent thinking about the battles to come. To the south, 15,000 Riverlanders would face 20,000 Crownlanders. To the east, Kyle Mooton and the fleet left a burning Gulltown in their wake as they sailed North towards the sisters where they would clear the way for the Northmen to land and take the Islands. Further inland, the Roycemen were a deciding factor; should they decide to reinforce the Vale army at the Nest, then unsettling them from the Nest may prove impossible. That army, however, was under the command of a zealous and emotional King and was therefore unpredictable. He knew that the sacking of Gulltown was as much to get revenge and cause discord amongst the Valemen as it was to make Hugh Arryn angry and potentially leave the fortress. No doubt that was why Brynden was being ordered to march northeastwards further up the High Road to Hunton. Hunton was a walled village on the road that an enemy army would need to pass through to reach the fertile plains and farmlands of the Riverlands. The town itself was too small for his army to camp in. The defences were designed to deter and stop raids, not to stop an army and so he would need to make his camp on the enemy side of it to block the Valemens advance into the Riverlands. With a strong force that would hold and bleed the Valemen for long enough for the rest of the army to join them in the hands of a skilled commander. He would do as his cousin, and best friend commanded and hold the road long enough for the Northmen and Riverlander reinforcements to join them, the men who had not been called up initially due to the speed at which the army had been raised had been slowly boosting their numbers and confidence of their men who had been boosted again by Gultown, still. However, the war was indecisive and another few victories needed to be won before it was over, which meant more death, more destruction and more gold being spent. Such was the way of Westeros.
Chapter 16
The Nest. 234 BC
"This is an outrage, my King! You assured us that our coasts would be protected! That my brother and his host would be able to move from their position of guardian of the Vale to join this army and yet Gulltown burns and the keep of more than half the lords in this room is under threat of a similar fate! I request that the men under my command and I be allowed to help my brother in clearing these vile heretics from our lands and halting further defacing of our noble traditions and faith!" Called Ronal Royce, younger brother and noted confidant of Lord Robar Royce.
Ronal had led the original 777 men from the Royce lands as a gesture of good faith and loyalty from Robar and dedication. However, just when he had managed to convince Robar and the other Lords with him to move away from protecting the coast and join him at the fortress, the Riverland fleet had struck. Tearing his fleet to shreds and sacking Gulltown until it was nothing but thick walls surrounding burnt and crumbling buildings, barren of any wealth or prosperity and its people fled inland and refugees with little to no belongings. Last he had heard, Lord Royce had offered them shelter in his lands which were not far from Gulltown.
Hugh thought about the man's request and struggled to find reasons to say no. Ronal had impressed him with his skill at arms and devoutness, often asking him questions about the faith and the legends surrounding it. Ronal often spoke about how the Royces did not know much about the faith and how after speaking with Hugh, he could not wait to see his brother and tell him all about what he had learned. He talked about how there were so many things that the Royces did that were barbaric and paganistic in hindsight and that he was sure that he could convince his brother to change them to become more devout and holy. Personally, Hugh thought this was a good idea. Ronal was famously close with his brother and was a persuasive and intelligent man; Hugh had little doubt he would be able to convince his brother of the virtues of the faith of the Seven.
Added to the fact that there was a significant possibility that after the Riverlander fleet reached White Harbour, which was no doubt their destination as the news of the Northern host stationed there had reached him at the start of the war. Obvious they were waiting to be ferried across the sea to land on either the fingers or the sisters. Not that it mattered much, sure they would be an annoyance, but there was not enough of them to do much more than taking either the sisters or maybe a single castle on the fingers. Either way, the Sistermen needed to remember their place and forcing them to come begging him for help was the perfect way for that to happen. If they landed on the barren fingers, they would soon starve anyway before they could do much, and if they didn't, they would be forced to surrender after he conquered the Riverlands. It was a large possibility that after the fleet reached White Harbour and stopped threatening the Royce lands, the host would once more join him here. Certainly, Ronal would convince them so if not.
Besides, the Royce men had steadily been depleted from their 777 to just 140. Many had died, and more than a few had disappeared, likely deserting. Ronal told him the men of the Royce lands were still first men and barbaric in nature and were hesitant to fight against people they saw as cousins. But… if Ronal were to convince his brother of the more Andal ways, then his lands would also become more andalised… yes.
"Father… this is a bad idea. We should not trust the Royces; they do not follow our ways and have delayed joining our host for far too long." David said his heir was a source of mixed emotions for him; on the one hand, he was a competent commander, honourable knight, efficient administrator and cunning politician. However, he often thought he knew more than he did and often argued fiercely with his father and King.
"Roland Royce is a good and honourable man, as is his brother and the other lords have no fear for their loyalty, my son." He was dismissed.
"Father, please!" His son hissed in his ear. "At least send someone with them! They will betray you if you do not."
"Fine, Septon Eugine will go with them if only to ease your mind," Hugh said angrily at his son, who was still arguing with him, making them look disunited in front of their Lords.
"I meant an army, not a half-drunk half hedonist Septon." Snapped his son.
"Vile lies! If you were still a boy, I would have you whipped for speaking such filth about a good and trusted Septon!" He spat at his son, who glared back at him; ignoring him, he turned towards Royce. "You may, of course, return to your brother and help him to throw back the heathens should they dare to land on our shores, should they not, I would expect you to return here with the rest of the host so as we may end this war once and for all." He spoke with practised grace and eloquence, ensuring his regality shone through in how he talked and seeped into his commands.
"Thank you, my king, thank you so much; you will not regret this, my king." Said a relieved Ronal.
"Good, now leave us. I wish to speak with my son." He said, and the gathered lords left, leaving him alone with his son. "Now, this is what you are going to do..."
—-
The Blackwater, East of the Antlers, 234 BC.
The dead and dying bodies stretched across the field with the odd corpse of a horse mixed in. Buckwell banners lay dirtied and abandoned in the road's gravel that led towards Duskendale. What would have been safety for this host as it scrambled to join the host gathered there and away from the mounted soldiers who had fought them upon the fields surrounding their keep halving their numbers. That was three days ago now, and the Buckwell men had thought they had escaped the mounted men as neither head nor hair had been spotted of them with the last reports saying they were returning north. Lord Bruce Buckwell had assumed that meant they were rejoining the main Blackwood host in the region, having dealt a costly and cheap blow to the Antlers men. Instead, they had obviously turned right back around in the nighttime and had ambushed his men as they made their way towards safety. Horsemen had smashed into his men from all sides, leaving only the way back to the antlers open and panicked and outnumbered men had fled out that way in droves. Lord Bruce amongst them. However, only 100 men had survived the two battles against the Blackwood horsemen and were battered, bruised, demoralised, and without supplies and comrades.
That meant that Bruce had little choice but to return towards the Antlers, out of the war before it could ever really begin. He had lost three cousins, a son and a brother in the two battles and his 80 household knights had been killed to the last man, deliberately targeted by the Blackwoods no doubt, something which had left his levies without leadership. They had been smashed under the weight of the Riverlander cavalry. While there were no Knights in their host, they might as well have been, after all, highly trained, heavily armoured horsemen hit just as had no matter if they had Ser as a title or not.
More and more men had begun to desert from the reminisce of his host to return to their farms, and to be honest, Bruce was seriously considering just disbanding the small host and letting them all filter back home. He had other options; of course, he could reinstill discipline with an iron hand using the usual brutal punishments for desertion and then once more try to join the Darklyn host or wait until such a time as his path was clear and the Blackwoods were long gone. Or else he could return to his keep with what little men he had left, close his eyes and forget any of this ever happened. No, not likely after his family had been reduced to nearly nothing. His men would be on the field when the Blackwoods were beaten, and he would have the head of whoever had led these attacks.
—-
Longsister. 334 BC.
The Sisters were in carnage. All around, the islander's ships burned, sunk and were left without a crew as the Riverlander fleet sank any ship they sighted not flying the banner of House's Stark, Manderly, Mooton or Blackwood. The pirate fleet of the Sistermen had been caught unaware, obviously not having been forewarned by the Arryns of the Blackwood fleet's approach, and many of the ships had barely gotten out to sea before they were sunk while others crew were drunk in an inn somewhere. In boiled leather, mail, furs and plate, Northmen jumped from their ships. They began to slaughter any man who dared to raise a weapon to them, most of whom were drunk sailors with no common sense, such as it was approaching sundown when the first few Blackwood ships were spotted. Not long after that, the Northern transports were also seen, splitting off into three groups to land three thousand men on each Island. After dealing with the initial resistance, the Northern forces on the Islands began to unite into larger groups. They decimated small keeps, towns and villages until the only pockets of resistance left were the castles and keeps of the main Houses. Longsister was probably the strongest, with two large castles on it. Well, large for a Sistermen castle, compared to the fortresses of the mainland, they were little more than walled barracks though Breakwater on sweet sister was more formidable, if not in size than in defences.
Nonetheless, the two main castles of Longsister soon found themselves surrounded by sea and land. Though the two castles were on opposite sides of the Island, it was not hard to command both sieges simultaneously as it took no more than half an hour for a fast rider to make it from one castle to another.
"Prince Jorah, Longthorpe Keep is undefended, Lord Locke asks for permission to assault." spoke a rider.
"Tell him no, we have plenty of time, and there is no need for unneeded bloodshed; tell him to wait for surrender or the walls to fall. He is to make sure the men don't get lazy while waiting, though." He instructed. A bloody assault was hardly needed; they had no need nor instructions to move on to the mainland and had the security, supplies and time to wait out a siege which he couldn't see lasting longer than a few moons. These castles were ruled and owned by sistermen, pirates really, and would not have the stores stocked for a long siege like a mainland castle would and, along with the constant barrage of artillery from the Riverlander warships, would surely fall not so far in the future. But only time would tell, for now, 60 of the Riverlander ships were laying waste to the walls of the Sistertown keeps, and the rest ravaged the coast of the more Andal lands on the Vale coast. With 40 of the great Ironborn longships being dispatched to burn Hearts Home, the seat of the Corbrays to the ground and sacking Snakewood on the return journey as well if Florian Mooton, who had been given command of the task force thought it was possible. He admired these Rivermen; they were efficient in everything they did, brutal when needed, but they did not lack morals or honour. Their skills in warfare and sailing could not be denied, as Torrence Teague and other Rivermen had learned. The Vale and their allies were beginning to learn.
—-
Hunton, Five days later, 234 BC.
"My Lord! Lord Redwood!" He heard someone shout; by the sounds of it, they were running towards him, dropping his quill from where he had been writing a report to send south towards Lucas. He rushed out, grabbing his sword as he did. He walked through the flaps of his tent just in time to see a somewhat red-faced scout running towards him through his guards blocked him.
"Let him through." He ordered, and instantly the man was allowed to pass through. The man did not come any closer, likely knowing that he would be cut down on the spot by the guards at his shoulder.
"A large force of Valemen have begun to pass through the western gates and are marching towards us in force, led by a man in fine steel plate with a winged helmet wearing Arryn colours." Spoke the man. "The rangers within the Vale army say that a vanguard of 8,000 led by the Arryn heir has been tasked with securing the high road for the rest of the army; they have a three day march down the treacherous road to reach us."
While this man was not one of Prince Bryndens rangers, the rangers rarely showed themselves to nobility unless they were mainline Blackwoods, preferring to tell a select few scouts leaders what they knew and charging them to tell the noble commander. Of course, sometimes there were exceptions, but generally, that was how it went. He knew from Lucas that it was to prevent any less loyal nobles from trying to bribe the rangers and to spread the aura of mystery they had. He took no offence that he was not excluded from this rule; it would set a bad precedent for the future. It was also why he had rejected the title of Prince of the blood, fearing it would give his descendants more legitimacy to rebel in the future. While he had raised his son to make sure he never even thought about rebellion and could trust his son to do the same for his grandchildren, he did fear that eventually, that kinship and staunch loyalty might fade away.
Nonetheless, this news was intriguing; if 10,000 men were marching on him, that meant by the latest report that only 9,500 men remained within the Nest, with 500 of those men unfit for combat. To him, and no doubt to everyone else, this was a statement of intent from the Arryn King, after the taking of the Sisters as it was called, which was still happening at this moment. The burning and destruction of Heartshome and the attack which had left Snakewood only slightly in better shape thanks to reinforcements nearing from Coldwater just before the main keep could be breached. Florian Mooton had called a retreat to the boats through the village, and inside the outer walls was a burnt wreck with some areas of Snakewood keep not much better of. The sack of Gulltown and the destruction of the Vale fleet the Valemen were trying to turn the tables from the defensive stance they had taken since the Nest had fallen into an offensive one by taking control of the High Road and clearing a path to the Riverlands proper. However, to the more sharp eye, it spoke of confidence in his army and the loyalty of the Royces; King Hugh believed that the Royces would soon reinforce him or else he would not risk sending such a large vanguard.
But what did that mean for them? Well, first of all, it meant that he would soon have a battle on his hands, and the defences of drilling he had made his men do since they arrived here were going to be used in a true battle. But aside from the obvious, it made him question the loyalty of the Royces to their agreement. As far as he was aware, no one in the Riverlands had received a raven from the Royces or their allies that cleared up their attention, and their silence had not gone unnoticed. His cousin, himself and the other members of the unofficial council of Lucas's most trusted and competent thought they were playing both sides. Letting both them and the Arryns think they were on their sides before they eventually decided on one side as the situation became clearer. Nonetheless, Ranger Commandant Aston of Fairmarker, or simply the Shadow as the nobility had begun to call him for his uncanny ability never to be spotted once he left the war tent, had been tasked with trying to ascertain their true intention and while the man told them that it would take an around three weeks before they should expect results as the mountains of the moon had to be bypassed. It would take longer to infiltrate a relatively small host that had been united for such a long time without any losses or battles.
"My Lord?" the scout spoke, breaking him from his thoughts, nodding in thanks to the man fully aware that he could have stood there for an hour thinking of a hundred different possibilities, he began to speak.
"Ready the men, tell the rangers they are to lead raids and hit and run strikes on the Vale column, they are to target the knights and those in plate armour, I want their commanders, and elite troops whittled down as much as possible. They are to gather as much information as they can on the host, who's leading it, how many knights, how many archers, infantry, etcetera, also get them to send a raven to the King with this news and whatever else they know." He ordered the scout, who nodded, and upon a proper look, he saw he was speaking to a captain of the Royal army. "Good man, captain, my thanks." and with that, the captain gave a slight bow and ran off to do as asked.
"Morgan, get me Commandant Ryan and Captain Damian for a war council." He told one of the guards who went off to fetch the Commandant of the Infantry under his command and the archer Captain. He had a long day of strategising before him, sighing as he made his way towards the war tent with his guards in tow; soon, he was joined by the veteran leaders and a few of their subordinates.
"Have you been informed of the situation?" He asked them, receiving shakes of the heads.
"I see; what are our plans?" The archer commander spoke with a slight lisp due to a gnarly scar across his lip from a Vanceman years ago.
"Raids are being organised, and you will receive updates and requests for men shortly. I expect the men of the Royal army to help the levy men with less training. Otherwise, we will spend our time preparing our defences and drilling the men. Otherwise, I want stakes, caltrops and ditches set up and the walls of the village to be reinforced, the King is being informed and may send reinforcements, but I doubt they would reach us in time." He told them. "Until we get a more detailed report on what makes up the army, that is all we can do."
Three days later.
The ground facing the Vale was unrecognisable to the steep yet green mountain road that led to the Nest and the Vale. The ground had been torn up and made into a cold and muddy incline that would slow down anyone trying to reach the bottom of the mountain. The ground was also littered with a few clever pit traps dug expertly by the Royal engineers that had been sent with him. Those men had been on overtime coordinating not just the traps and tearing up of the ground but also the layered ditches, caltrops stakes and other defences that made up the ground leading down towards the Riverlands. All of which were there for a specific reason. To slow down the Vale army and keep them in the line of fire of his longbows for as long as possible and to exhaust and damage the vanguard as much as they could.
Nine thousand men defended the town, 5,000 of whom were users of the infamous yew Longbows that made the Riverlands under Blackwood rule so feared. The other 4,000 were purely infantry, the cavalry being next to useless on the steep slopes of the mountains of the moon. Of the 9,000 men in his army, 4,000 were the highly trained, disciplined and armed Riverlanders who made up the Royal Army. The distinctive all-black plate armour covering their chest, neck, sides, back, shoulders, biceps, thighs, calves and shins gave way only to silver mail and scarlet red padded leather, warm padded fur gloves and a Hounskull. It was named that way for the distinctive visor that protrudes out to be shaped like a raven's beak. Of course, only the infantry and heavy cavalry were heavily armed; the longbowmen wore lighter armour of blackmail and red leather with a kettle helm. In terms of weaponry, the archers had their bows and arrows, but they also had a small shield and a mace, axe or short sword, while the infantry had a larger shield, one of the same weapons or perhaps a halberd or poleaxe. The cavalry varied from the lighter scouts and skirmish cavalry to the heavy cavalry who were the direct counter to the Knights of the Vale, though currently they were dismounted.
Spearmen made up the majority of the levies in the Riverlands, with archers and axemen coming in at a close second and third. This was, of course, because the spear was cheap to buy and easy to make in large quantities while the axe was just as much a tool as it was a weapon for the small folk, was cheaper than a sword or mace and required less training. The longbow, however, was different.
By now, the longbow was a cultural staple; when one thought of the Riverlands, they thought of the longbow before even the rivers they got the name from, not really, but it was a close second. So renowned and respected were the longbowmen of the Riverlands that there was no shortage of young men and boys willing to train from a young age to be one of those men that made up the most respected position in the army. To use a longbow required intense training from a very young age; it was hard to draw and harder to shoot at the distance, speed and duration required of an archer in the Riverlander armies. Yet boys were willing to go through it to be like the men who had become legendary during the unification of the Riverlands and Teague war. That the rewards for being one were more than worth it if you were good enough helped massively supply eager manpower for such a highly specialised position. Aside from the usual coin and loot a soldier got, there was a good opportunity for good longbowmen to be picked to become a Royal archer or get a place in their local lord's employment which was usually good pay and another good opportunity for them. They could also participate in the many archery competitions held across the Riverlands, getting them noticed and earning the prize money if they were good enough.
These proud and deadly men were currently on the flanks of his central infantry on either side, protected by a deep trench lined with sharp stakes to the front and the mountains to the flanks. In contrast, others took up positions on the walls at the back of the army with clear shots over the walls and infantry.
He allowed them to break ranks and rest while they awaited word of the incoming army, which should be here within the hour by the latest report. A sense of anticipation could be heard across the mountain pass as thousands of men awaited the arrival of the enemy and the battle to come. Silence reigned as the men shared a quiet meal of bread and watered-down ale, with the only sounds being the low murmur of quiet conversation and the gentle breeze ruffling the light shrubbery that lined the side of the mountains at their sides. The sound, or lack thereof, was enchanting, and Brynden soon found himself lost in thought once more. An all too common thing for him recently.
The sound broke the peaceful silence of a watchman's horn as he spotted the signal fire from his position on the crest of the mountain light twenty minutes away up the curving road. After that, his men, without having to be ordered, stood up, put away their food and formed their ranks, the sound of armour shuffling filling the void of silence, though, after that, silence once more took hold. Not a thing could be heard, not the thrill of a robin nor the caw of a raven, and even the wind seemed to have abandoned this battlefield. He walked through the frontlines of his infantry, the armoured men parting like a sea against a longship, and yet even this was done in silence. He walked with his beaked helmet under his right arm while in his left, he held a strewn weirwood longbow a quiver of arrows on his waist while one of his guards stood just behind holding his sheathed bastard sword and heart-shaped Ironwood shield. He stood there at the front of the army for fifteen minutes until the sound of marching armoured men filled the mountain pass. After two more minutes, the Arryn army came into view, rounding a mountain and halting when his force was spotted downhill.
They were too far still for him to make out any more than the shine of their armour and vague colours, but he could see when the Vale army began to form their battle positions. His men made no move to oppose them, allowing them to form three divisions. At the head of the vanguard was 3,000 Crossbowmen with a few hundred archers mixed in, while behind them lay the dismounted knights and heavy men at arms of the Vale with a core of a few hundred mounted knights and the Vale levies. Their advance began with the crossbowmen, who began to make their way down the slope and into their shorter range than the longbowman in his army. It was, however, two minutes before the crossbowman got in range of his bowman, but when they did, it was a brutal thing.
Brynden himself shot the first arrows; standing at the front of his men, he took a single arrow with a shaft of ash and a hardened steel bodkin arrow designed to give as much armour piercing as possible. Mail would not be an issue for his bowmen, and the lower quality plate worn by most men at arms and non-noble knights would prove more difficult but not impossible at all. The plate worn by Lords and landed knights would be harder depending on more than a few factors like range, the location of the hit and quality of the plate. The arrow could penetrate if the factors were right, but it was more likely that the arrow that killed them found a gap in the plate on a lord's plate. His arrow, however, merely flew 400 yards and then dug into the ground a few steps in front of the advancing crossbowmen causing the inexperienced or ignorant amongst them to cheer. For the rest of them knew just as every man in his army knew that his arrow was simply the rangefinder because as soon as they got within two steps of that arrow, cries of 'Loose!' rang across the mountain valley. It was shortly followed by the distinctive and shiver-inducing sound of thousands of arrows being shot from their bows and cutting through the air.
If a man had the misfortune of being close enough to the advancing formation of crossbowmen, they would have heard nothing but the thuds of arrows smashing into men, breaking bones, armour and ending lives. They would have heard the screams of men as they fell. They would have seen those men who fell being stepped over and on by their comrades who kept on marching even as another volley of arrows fell on them and another and another and three more until they reached the effective range of their crossbows at 300 yards from the Blackwood men.
His infantry had already formed a tight shield wall to protect themselves from the bolts that were soon unleashed, bolts smashed into shields. Some got through the gaps in the formation, killing the men behind them as the powerful projectiles struck through armour. Those men were soon replaced by more men who held their shields just that little bit sturdier. The crossbow was a dangerous weapon in the hands of even an untrained soldier, it did not take much training to use, and it packed one hell of a punch. However, it was expensive to make and took so long to reload that the Blackwood archers could fire three volleys into the Valemen as they cranked back their drawing mechanisms. And just as they raised their weapons to unleash their second volley, another rain of arrows smashed into them, causing many bolts to go astray as all around them, their comrades were brought down. The Valemen, of course, had their own few hundred longbowmen, but they were too few and mostly untrained in the usage of such a specialised weapon to be that effective. As more and more volleys of Riverlander arrows descended on them, they became less and less of a threat. Until eventually, the crossbowmen retreated, some even dropping their weapons in their haste to escape the arrows that struck them even as they fell back to safety, only stopping when they got out of range.
After that, there was a lull in the battle as the Valemen decided on their strategy and his men recovered from the strenuous activity of being a longbowman. For three hours, nothing of note happened until the Vale once more began their advance. Brynden instantly saw the change in strategy. The Arryn heir had seen that sending his men upon waves was no less than suicide as they would just be shot to bits by his archers before they could even reach his front lines. So instead had done the smarter thing and had ordered an all-out assault trying to spread out the casualties he was going to suffer and make it, so he had enough men to reach the Riverlander lines. The heavily armoured knights led the way in the centre, followed by the levies on either side just a bit behind them in an arrowhead formation. The advance was faster than the one of the crossbowmen as the Arryn commanders tried to minimise the duration they spent getting shot at by arrows. However, this strategy made their once organised formation staggered and disjointed as they crossed the rugged and torn up terrain. Something which was only further worsened by the hail of arrows that began to descend on them and by the time they reached the trenches ten yards in front of the Blackwood lines. And it was there that the absolute bloodbath ensued. Men scrambled to cross the muddy trenches, which were filled with stakes and spikes that more than one unfortunate soul fell on, either being pushed or having slipped onto it as men scrambled to cross the safe spots in the trench. It made them easy targets for the archers at such close range.
More and more men fell, but eventually, the Vale army managed to bypass
them, and a bloody clash ensued. Led by Brynden himself, the archers on both flanks dropped their bows and their light or empty quivers and drew their weapons, charging into the levies of the Vale. Blood flowed like water, and men screamed like babes as they were struck down. In the centre, it was more of a slog, the two heavily armoured forces struggled with each other fiercely trying to end their counterpart's life, and by nightfall, two hours later, bodies littered the field on all sides of the mountain pass. However, as the Valemen withdrew, lacking three-quarters of their army, Brynden knew they had done enough. The Vale vanguard had been halted and bled too much for them to win this battle, and while it was not a total defeat as he had lost 2,000 of his men and the Vale army vanguard was not destroyed and would live to see another day. They had won not just glory and loot but also time, time for more men to be raised and time for their King to make his moves.