I gasped awake at the care of the old Ravenman.
For a moment, I could not accept what had happened. It is only a dream, my mind protested. It is not real, it explained, trying to force the idea down my throat. I wanted to believe it, but reality said otherwise.
"Ser Mareste," he called. "You are alive."
"Where am I? Answer me. Where am I?" I asked, dazed with my sight fatigued. Briefly, I tried to sit up form the mattress stuffed with hay only to feel the sharp pain from my chest.
"Careful, brother," another voice remarked. "You suffered too much already."
"T-this can't be real," I began, breathing heavily. "What have I done..."
"It's not your fucking fault," a rugged voice insisted. Magrae's voice was the most recognizable. "You did your best, brother... that is all I can say."
"D-did we take it? Is Ale Hall ours?" I asked.
At last, my sight finally began to return. Magrae, Mareste, and Ryene hovered over my body as if I had perished. For the first time, Magrae had shown weakness. Madester's head was turned, his eyes red as the tears began to form.
Magrae's expression was unreadable, and even his mask of gold could not hide his despair. The man merely grunted and gave a nod. Ryene, on the other hand, was expressionless, still and genuinely concerned.
"What happened?" I asked. My mind was still recalling everything, but Magrae himself would tell me that answer himself.
Hours before Mareste's awakening...
The plan worked as it should have.
The walls of Ale Hall crumbled down as its foundations were destroyed by the tunnels dug by a group of our men. White rugged stone crumbled down on an empty pit, simultaneously crushing our men as well. The collapse had caught the defenders off-guard.
The first wall had fallen.
My brother, Maserr Abberan, had led the artillery as he did during the siege of Northrest Keep. The boulders rained down on the castle's remaining defenders mounted on the wall. Men fell from the very sky that day, landing on the grass with loud thuds. The army crept ever closer with the banners of green to the interior of the wall as resistance from within had began to pour out.
I myself had led the second division of the infantry, as the army had been divided into four divisions, the artillery, the archers, and the two infantry division. My army was the first to enter, stabbing foes and slitting throats while we avoided getting crushed by the halberds.
The soldiers of the white horse of House Levarion held also their spears, forming walls of spikes that were prepared to pierce anybody that tried to go through. Of course, spears were no match for the fervor of the free folk mercenaries.
While my men clashed with the skirmishers sent by the defenders, I was fending off our left flank with a few soldiers, striking maile and piercing leather and flesh. The interior of the castle was mainly composed of stone buildings, but some were wooden, and the men would set fire to those.
The atmosphere filled with the sound of joy and tears, and the ground had been trampled to mud and dirt as the weight of more than a thousand men had been on top of it. Not only that, but the blood of the soldiers had aided to it. In reality, the entire castle neared its end.
"Infantry! Pierce their center!" I commanded.
With chants of "Trudge! Trudge! Charge!", the soldiers at the front lines had put their shields forward, with their blades behind, pushing against the spears while slowly moving closer to the enemy.
When they had reached their adversaries, they would pierce them using their swords in an attempt to form a path for the rest of the infantry to move to. It would not be long before the ground was littered with corpses.
I held my blade at the ready, and on my left hand as my buckler. Armed at the ready, I ordered my men to move inward to the second wall. It would not be too long before my luck would run out.
Out of the crowd of soldiers, one had managed to wound me greatly on my leg with an ax, leaving me limping on the field. I had managed to wound him, but he would retreat to the safety of his fellow men. With my blade aimed, I lunged forward swiftly, taking the life of his fellow soldier as it entered his throat.
"All of you! Guard me!" I commanded.
At once, those around me had huddled around, forming a tight wall of both flesh and wood around me. As I made my way closer to the gate, I had realized that the path was clear. Multiple times, I was pushed arpound as I limped towards it, using my sword as an ineffective cane.
As the left flank slowly fell, the division was nearly trapped between the walls of both spear and stone as our foes surrounded us.
"Infantry charge!"
From the southern side, the first infantry division rushed in a united charge, led by my brother, Magrae, who rode on horseback near the front lines of his army, with the banner bearing the three swords of our house. With no time to turn around, the spearmen were compressed and trapped by the free folk, who bashed them with their shields and thrusted their blades into them.
The sound of colliding iron and blades partnered nicely with the screams of pain filled the air with an almost melancholic yet tense mood. Soon, I was left on my own, lost among the ranks of my own men, slowly being surrounded by my enemies.
"Nice of you to try and clear a path for us, little brother!" Magrae exclaimed, finding me amongst the crowd of dying men.
"Well, almost died for it, really," I replied, barely fending off the waves of ax-wielding and spear-thrusting men that approached.
"Glad you didn't," he replied with a laugh, his back turned against mine and guarding my rear. "Let's kill these fuckers!"
A man charged against me, dagger at hand. Quickly, he held my arm where I held my sword with his hand and began finding gaps in my armor. While the man was smart, he was not strong. With a loud grunt, I had pushed him back and pierced his chest with a sword.
Magrae did just the same, plunging his blade into his enemies and wounding those he deemed knights of noble blood to be captured and held for ransom. It would not be after the fighting that the thought had hit me. Where was the prince he guarded?
"Where is the heir?" I asked.
"The boy lord? Well, he's with Massy," he admitted. "He'll be fine with him, safer even!" he replied.
"Aren't you his guard?"
"Aren't we supposed to be fighting men?"
I laughed the question off. "You have a point there," I replied, cutting off another man's head.
When it was evident that the second wall would be infiltrated, the artillery division had abandoned its position and moved in with the Horned Ram, a large machine constructed under the order of my brother, Maserr. It was a large battering ram, with the end of the log taking the shape of a goat's head.
The archery division moved closer as well, careful to take down the remaining defenders on the wall.
"Infantry! Curve Formation!" I commanded.
Quickly, the men moved into position, shields interlocked with the blades slightly protruding from the gaps of the shield wall.
"Infantry! Forward!"
At once, those blades were fully exposed and the front lines charged, repeatedly stabbing their swords into the enemy's armor as they pinned them against the wall. While I commanded my troops, Magrae commanded his, expertly maneuvering them to take down any attack on our flanks.
Behind us, the forces of Masser and Lord Forien moved ever closer with their battering ram. For a moment, I could see Masser whisper into the prince's ear, and after a brief moment, my brother's sword hung in the air as he led most of the infantry ahead for our aid.
Even though the castle had only around eight thousand men, five thousand was enough to defend it, and so, our army's numbers had no bearing.
The hidden passageways inside the already impenetrable walls gave way to ambushes for the enemy, giving our men a harder time to infiltrate. The men of Ale Hall themselves were very capable and strong men, known for their similar strength when compared to the free folk.
When it seemed that the elite forces of the Ale Hall had gotten the upper-hand, Maserr had arrived with the newly formed third division of the infantry, cutting down flesh and bones as they made their way to the gate to try and secure a path.
"Infantry! Center push!" Maserr commanded. "Make way for the Horned Ram!"
With all their strength, the front lines pushed once more, dividing the enemies into two and clearing a center path to the gate.
As the new way was barely sustained, the Horned Ram had arrived.
It was taller than what I had expected, looming ominously as it neared the gate. With chants of "Heave! Ho!", the log repeatedly bashed against the wooden gates, which began to bend, splinter, and break.
As the gates swung open, the remaining men inside prepared for the assault. If the men guarding the second wall were formidable, those who defended the keep were like stones in the presence of water.
Armed to the teeth with plate armor and claymores made of steel, these knights were more than warriors; they were like paladins, holy and blessed.
"Armored boys, eh?" Magrae remarked with a sinister cackle. "I might die," he noted seriously... for a only a moment until he exclaimed aloud, "I fucking love it!" before charging with his men.
"Mareste," a voice called. "Stay with me, will you?"
"You treat me like a child, Maserr," I replied. "Do you really think I can't fight-"
"I just don't want to see you die... is that enough?"
A smile formed on my face. I gave nothing but a nod as I charged into the onslaught- slightly crippled and limping -with my brothers.
Already, I found a blade crashing down on me. Dashing to the side and almost falling on the ground, I had avoided death by a slim of hair. While the knights were armored with plate armor, it had one flaw: It had gaps.
With sword at the ready and my head almost being cut off as he moved his blade to the left, I plunged it into the first of the paladins, digging into his chest as my blade pierced his lungs. With a loud groan, he fell to the ground with a large thud, sending dust flying into the air.
The next paladin was luckier than the first.
Standing strong and tall, the behemoth towered over me, with his hammer unleashed and reflecting the last bit of the sun's rays from its head as it began to turn to dusk. "Invading adversary," he began, "Face the wrath of the white horse!"
Surprisingly, he moved quickly. Unfortunately for me, I was sent flying unto five barrels of wine, which tasted quite nicely as it trickled down my helmet. As the large hammer came crashing down to me, I quickly rolled away and got to my feet, even though my leg was still quite wounded.
By that point, I had not realized the bleeding had been so severe until my head became light, and the pain in my leg had shot back up.
There I was, practically kneeling as I gripped my leg in pain. It was no wonder that the violence and feel of war had blinded me of the pain, but it was a different kind... it was more than a flesh wound.
The armored man turned his head once more and cackled at me.
"You are no warrior, bannerman," he taunted.
"You are a greasy cunt, aren't you?"
The man laughed at my reply. "Will those be your last words, bannerman? Very well."
His hammer went to the skies and blotted out the sun form my eyes. With all his strength, he let the hammer fall down on me, and I closed my eyes and whispered a short prayer that I might be forgiven for all my sins.
But I opened my eyes, still alive.
For that brief moment, all I could see was a blur, the hammer coming down and another knight intervening between us. The last thing I saw was the large man's blunt weapon crashing down on the knight's chest, denting the armor into his ribs as the other soldiers of green had arrived to take care of him.
Then, I finally woke up.