~~~War camp, Mountains of moon ~~~
Artys POV
"My lord, it's almost midnight. Will the hill tribes truly attack?" Noll asked, his hands trembling around the hilt of his sword.
"Noll," I said, not looking at him, "remind me again why I brought you here."
"I... I begged you to bring me here... I wanted to fight, like my brother," he replied, his grip on the sword tightened.
"Listen to me, boy." I said as I placed my hands on his shoulders.
"Fear is a good thing. Remember that. Your parents died because you were not strong enough to protect them."
"Now you have two options: either you stay back and hide like you did when those bastards murdered your parents, or join us in battle like your brother."
"Choice is yours," I added.
Noll's gaze lowered, contemplating what to do.
Soon the sounds of swords clashing and men screaming were heard from outside.
"My lord, should we go?" one of my men asked.
"NO," I said in a low voice. "Wait for the horn to blow."
The sounds continued for a while until—
"BBBBAAAAAAAWWWWWWW!" A loud battle horn echoed, followed by multiple horns blowing.
"Let's go," I said slowly. I, along with my men, dramatically exited the tents.
The first thing I did was look around; other soldiers were also coming out of their tents in their gear with weapons in their hands.
In front of me there was a sea of dead men—my soldiers and the men of the hill tribes—their bodies lying down.
I had used them as sacrifice, to give false hope to the enemy—to make them believe the camp was poorly guarded and easy to breach.
On the assembly ground of the war camp, which is right after the gate, my army gathers there before they march out.
On the grounds, a group of men stood in a circle.
I could not see them properly since the only light sources were torches, but their numbers seemed to be in hundreds.
The left side was in order under Jasper, and all men were in formations ready to attack.
"BOOM!"
I turned my head right; there I saw a huge mushroom of fire on the camp wall.
SHIT.
I knew it, things never go as I plan.
That fucking celestial was acting so nice when I met him. He was generous with gifts, but so far only the ability to talk to animals has proven helpful, and the knowledge.
But the gift of foreshadowing of any danger is completely useless.
In this war. Three times, fucking three times, I barely escaped death. There was no dream about future attacks on me as promised, but I do get nightmares like that little golden shit laughing at me as kingsguard put my head on a spike.
Targaryen blood in my veins is surely to blame. One of my worst nightmares was Ramsay chopping off my little bro.
The right side was in complete disarray due to the blast that happened there.
Robar? Why the fuck is he not doing anything? Calm the men, get them in order.
Where the fuck is he? I ordered him to take command of the right side, hoping he would perform well.
And how the fuck did those savages get their hands on enough oil barrels to blow up my walls?
You know what, fuck that.
I don't even care anymore how they got it. I have plenty of problems right now.
"Attack!" I screamed, my voice echoing in the silent ground.
Silence before the storm, many would call it.
And the next second, all hell broke out. Men charged forward.
Fuck the tactics—I was originally going to surround them slowly with walls of shields and a rain of arrows, but now with the walls breached, I don't have time.
Who knows if there are more of these savages hiding in the forest and coming from the broken walls.
As I ran forward and the gap closed between me and the hill tribes, I could see their faces. They had no fear in their eyes despite being outnumbered and surrounded.
Fuck,
why God, why me?
This is exactly the kind of enemies I hate the most—those who have nothing to lose.
As the gap between me and them closed, I noticed a few men were wearing the same set of armor that my men wear.
Shit, what the fuck.
I am getting more surprises in these few minutes than I had in the past three years.
Everything I planned on how to deal with them is going to waste. No wonder they attacked—they had a proper plan.
Why the fuck didn't the birds report it?
Could it be… I did get reports that due to food shortage in the hill tribes they were hunting down anything, from mice to anyone.
Could it be? That's the only explanation.
You dare kill my birds—I swear I will fucking throw you into boiling oil for that, if you did that.
I went from running to walking. The surrounded knights and other men overtook me, not bothering to ask why I slowed, except for the Silver Knights, my personal guard unit who were matching my pace.
Now I know what those fuckers wanted—they, in battle, want to mix up with my men and spread chaos.
What the fuck do I do?
I need to recall my men fast before they crash.
But it was too late.
The sound of steel clashing could be heard now, the battle has begun.
There is no point in stopping now.
Either I live or die today.
But I swear to fucking God I will take all of them with me to hell if I die here.
"Ser Aleric, order the Silver Knights to be around me during the fight. No one, no one approaches me except for those whom you or your men know, until the battle is over," I said, fastening the pace.
The hill tribes were wearing the armor I give to levies, which is similar to Roman armor, except it was blue in color, not red.
Though none of the savages wore the armor of Silver Knights or Moon Knights or even other knights.
I held both my Valyrian swords in my right and left hands as I dashed forward.
After seeing the current situation, I wished I had brought a shield with me. Dual swords are good for killing, but a sword can never do the job of a shield. Never.
I, for a brief moment, shifted my gaze to the right side. Jasper was engaged with three men; his face showed he didn't like what was going on.
Me neither.
As I closed in, the first man before me was of average height, with a huge beard caked in dust, long hair, and a hammer in his hand. He swung straight for my head.
You know why I don't use a hammer.
Dropped low, momentum carrying me forward, sliding across the ground on my knee.
Because the sword is much faster than a hammer, and not everyone is Robert Baratheon.
"AHHHHH!" the man cried in pain.
Nothing cuts like Valyrian steel.
Two more men attacked me; they were wearing my men's armor.
I caught their blades, one on each side, their swords grinding against mine.
"Aleric, HELP ME!" I shouted, my eyes towards the left, only to find him on the ground with his head rolling, and next to him was a man with a copper crown on his head.
I am in trouble.
He was as tall as a man already as tall as the fucking Mountain. He had a giant battle axe in his hand, and he looked at me with disgust.
"You puny rascal, you started this war," the axed man said.
"Nope, I am merely a stable boy. The lord is in the main tent," I said with a smile, though the pressure on me from the two men's swords was huge; my arms were aching.
"You take me for a fool, boy? Look at that armor of yours—no stable boy will have it," he said.
I should have worn regular armor, not the one that screams money.
"I lost my wife, my son, because of the war you started," he said, walking slowly at me as I was pushed to my knees by the weight of two swords that were pushing me down.
So far, I could hold only thanks to adrenaline.
I didn't receive any superhuman strength from the celestial being—only a gift of skill, and that was in archery, not swordsmanship.
"DIE!" he screamed.
He swung a giant axe at my head.
I let go.
Dropped my swords and jumped backward.
Narrowly escaping the swing, though the other two men were not as lucky as me; they got hit.
Both fell. One was heavily injured, while the other had his stomach opened because of the blow, his intestines coming out.
My eyes scanned the surroundings for help—only to find the hill tribes had formed a tight circle around us, cutting my men off.
It was a suicide mission. My men should be attacking them from all sides; I just need to buy enough time for them to break through.
How the fuck did these savages even achieve this? What the heck were the Silver Knights doing to let their lord be surrounded by enemies?
These people must hate me deeply, that they are willing to die in such a manner to make sure I die.
"So you are the King Under the Mountain," I said, trying to indulge him into talk, trying to buy some time.
"The name's Thorin, you little prick," he replied with an evil grin.
I don't like what is going on. Get lost—I am a child, you fucking sick son of a bitch.
The giant man stepped on my swords, which were now under his feet. "How are you going to fight me, boy?" he smirked, looking at me with no weapons in hand.
"Oh, I am not going to—he is," I said, pointing upwards to the sky. It was dark, cold weather with little thunder happening.
I brought my hand to my mouth, curled my fingers, pressing them against my lips, and blew it.
"Wheeeet!" the sound of my whistle echoed the battlefield.
"Just die," he said as he raised his axe.
I took out the short Valyrian dagger from the back of my belt and took a fighting posture.
"SWISH!"
A black figure struck the old man in his eye.
What bloody timing.
Good job, Storm.
"AHHHHH!" the man screamed, dropping his axe as his hands reached to his eye.
Now is the time.
I lunged forward, jumping as high as I could, aiming my dagger at the man's head.
His hand shot up.
He caught me mid-air with his right hand at my throat, while his other hand locked my wrist, stopping the dagger inches away from his face.
Blood poured from his eye—he wasn't even trying to stop it anymore.
"Sir, there is blood coming from your right eye," I smirked, though the grip on my neck tightened.
"You little shit," he said in a hoarse voice.
Thank you, Arya.
I let the dagger fall from my right hand and caught it with my left hand and drove it forward with all my strength.
He threw me down with full force.
Shit, he saw through me.
My entire body ached from impact.
I turned around, my face upward, facing the sky. I could see his face upside down, smiling at me wickedly.
Dirt filled my mouth. My nose was bleeding. My chest was hurting from the impact.
I rolled onto my back, staring up.
He stood over me, smiling.
"Trying to sneak attack like this—even a kid would not fall for that,"
As he lifted his leg, I could see the dirt on the soles of his shoes.
POV ends