CHAPTER 302 Under the Veil of Night
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CHAPTER 302 Under the Veil of Night
297 AC
POV THIRD PERSON
As the Vale forces continued their relentless bombardment, the tension within the city walls reached a fever pitch. The constant thunder of siege engines and the ominous rumble of falling debris kept the Mountain Clansmen on edge, their nerves frayed by the unrelenting assault.
Sleep became a precious commodity inside the city, elusive and fleeting amidst the cacophony of war. Every creak of timber, every distant crash, sent shivers down their spines, reminding them of the imminent danger lurking just beyond the walls. They were warriors, but this was the first siege defense they had ever done; they never experienced anything close to this. From every side, giant boulders were raining onto them or crushing on the walls. The only thing that was holding them up was their trust in Druid.
"This is madness," muttered one clansman, his voice tinged with exhaustion and fear. "We've faced battles before, but never like this. I hate feeling helpless as they pound the walls one-sidedly. It feels like the castle itself is shaking with the force of their attacks."
Another nodded in agreement, his gaze fixed on the looming shadows of the Vale forces encircling the city. In the setting sun, they looked nothing but vague silhouettes. "Aye, and they show no signs of relenting. We must stay vigilant, brothers, and trust the Druid's plan. He must have a good reason for allowing this."
Outside the city gates, the Vale commanders watched with satisfaction as their plan unfolded. They knew the psychological toll their siege tactics would take on the defenders, and they exploited it to their advantage.
"They must be starting to feel the pressure right about now," remarked Ser Jasper Redford, his gaze sweeping over the city walls. "This is the first siege those savages ever experienced. They must be disoriented and on edge. It will create an opening for us."
His fellow commanders nodded in agreement, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. The Mountain Clansmen may have become strong enough to take over a castle, but even the strongest will buckle under the weight of constant bombardment and ceaseless assault.
...
The endless barrage of siege engines ceased when the sun set behind the mountains. Once again, silence enveloped the night. The Vale lords were starting the second part of their plans. Now, the mountain men were sleep-deprived for three nights. It was time for silence so they could feel the call of dreams.
Aermir expected them to fall to his ruse and do a rushed assault. Most of the commanders had fallen to it, but Jasper Redfort was a competent leader and managed to keep his cool and hold his men under control, creating a better plan. The unlucky part of his plan was that Aermir knew everything he shared with his commanders.
In the dead of night, Robert Hersy and John Brightsteel took 200 men and started their infiltration. Robert had spent all his life in Newkeep, so he knew the crook and nook of the castle. He knew of an entrance only a few would know, and only the crazy would attempt to enter from that place.
As Newkeep took shape, its architects and builders looked to other cities, notably King's Landing, as a model for what to avoid. The capital's notorious stench, largely due to its inadequate sewage systems and overpopulation, served as a cautionary tale for House Hersy. Determined to prevent such unpleasantness from plaguing their own stronghold, they prioritized the establishment of a drainage system to manage sewage.
The sewage drain beneath Newkeep's walls presented a clandestine entry point for those who knew of its existence. Hidden underwater, it was connected to a stream originating from the surrounding mountains, passing right next to the eastern wall of Newkeep and converging with the Mooncrest River, the largest waterway in the Vale. Its inconspicuous appearance from the outside made it an ideal covert passage into the castle for those who sought it.
For a century, the sewage had flowed openly, a foul reminder of the city's waste. However, a seismic event a century prior shifted the landscape, causing the stream to widen and consume the surface sewage exit at the bottom of the wall. Now, the only access to this submerged passage required diving through a few meters of murky depths, past the steel bars sealing its exit. While the barrage was ongoing, they had already managed to pry open the bars. The narrow confines of the sewage tunnel allowed only a few men to traverse its fetid waters side by side.
As they waded through the knee-deep sewage, the stench hung heavy in the air, a nauseating reminder of where they were. Silently, they pressed forward. Emerging through various outlets onto the surface, they found themselves in a deserted town devoid of any signs of life. Robert's mind raced with grim possibilities, fearing the worst. Had those godless heathens wrought havoc upon the innocent townsfolk? Was everyone dead?
Since the houses were empty, they decided to hide in them to evade detection. With a contingent of 200 men now assembled, they stealthily advanced toward their objective: the northern gate of the castle. Moving silently along the shadowed periphery of the castle walls, they chanced upon several sizable openings in the earth.
Suspicion gnawed at Robert's gut as he surveyed the freshly excavated tunnels. The recent sight of smoke rising from the castle three days ago testified to their adversaries' recent occupation, leaving little time for such time-consuming construction. His instincts screamed danger, urging caution in their approach.
Robert, torn between curiosity and duty, made a swift decision. He delegated the task of exploring the mysterious tunnels to capable men from his retinue. Each man was to venture into one of the three tunnels, scouring the depths for any sign of activity or threat. As Robert continued toward the northern gate, the chosen scouts set forth into the darkness, their footsteps echoing faintly against the earthen walls.
As Robert and John reached the northern gate, they were immediately met with a relentless onslaught. Mountain warriors clad in full plate armor flooded from the alleyways and surrounded them. Like invincible beasts, they struck swiftly and mercilessly, their movements coordinated and lethal. They didn't bleed; none of their weapons managed to wound the savages.
Arrows rained down upon them from above, launched by archers on top of the wall and rooftops. Amidst the chaos, a towering figure emerged, wielding dual axes with a ferocity that seemed otherworldly. His strikes were devastating, cleaving through Robert's men with brutal efficiency.
Robert Hersy and his warriors attempted to encircle the unstoppable foe, but their efforts were futile. With each swing of his axes, he cut through their ranks like a scythe through wheat, leaving behind a trail of mangled corpses.
In a desperate bid to turn the tide, Robert engaged the mountain warrior in single combat. His sword and shield clashed with the axes in a flurry of steel, the clash of metal ringing out amidst the chaos of battle. Robert was a big man, too, but with every clash, he felt like his hand was going to break. The mountain warrior's strength was unmatched. His blows felt like giant boulders.
With one final strike, the mountain man sent Robert flying, his body crashing to the ground with a sickening thud. Struggling to rise, Robert felt the searing pain of his injuries, his left arm limp and useless, his shield shattered beyond repair.
As he attempted to push himself up, a vicious blow from the mountain man's axe cleaved through his right shoulder, nearly splitting him in two. Agony coursed through his body, but still, Robert summoned the strength to look into the eyes of his killer.
As he came face to face with his killer, thanks to the moonlight and flaming torches around them, Robert caught a glimpse of the mountain man's face through the slit of his helmet. But he couldn't make sense of what he saw. The man's skin appeared like tree bark. For a fleeting moment, Robert thought he might be imagining things, the pain and shock clouding his senses. But as darkness closed in around him, he knew that his time had come.
With his last breath, Robert mustered all his power and delivered a blow through the gap in the mountain man's helmet. As blood oozed from Robert's mouth, he smiled, thinking he had managed to drag this monster with him, but there was no blood where Robert struck, and the mountain man looked at him like he didn't feel a thing as Robert died with his eyes wide open.
One by one, Robert's men fell before the unstoppable onslaught, their screams drowned out by the clamor of battle. John Brightsteel, unable to withstand the onslaught, fought with valor, but ultimately, he, too, fell beneath the dual axes of his relentless adversary. In a matter of moments, all that remained were the mangled corpses of Robert's men.