75 The Eve of Battle

"Has he had any rest at all?" Patrek Mallister asked, looking towards Robb who was sat laughing with a few men. They were just common soldiers from the Reach. But he had discarded his thick, fur cloak, decorated tunic and was dressed much like every soldier, simple leathers and chainmail. He could almost pass off as a common soldier if they weren't aware of who he was and what he had done.

Many still looked disbelievingly at the sight before them, some questioning if it wasn't even really true, that the King of all people was sat amongst them. Those he was sat with had quickly come to terms that the King was with them and they were laughing and joking with him as if he were just like them, a simple soldier.

"From what I've heard and seen, no." Lucas Blackwood. "I switched out with Daryn and Perwyn a few hours ago, but he's been doing this since last night. Already went through all the right-side cavalry detachment and the right flank."

"Why's he doing this anyway?"

"To be honest, I'm just as confused as you. I'm just surprised that Smalljon isn't with him, this is right up his street, ain't it?" Patrek chuckled at Lucas' words, all of them had learned pretty early on that Smalljon loved to drink and party, almost as much as he loved to fight.

"You and me both." It was then that Robb got to his feet, sharing goodbyes to those he had been talking to and walking through the camp. He'd stop occasionally to idly chat with a few men before moving onto a particularly large group. There the shock they showed was great, but much like before, Robb seemed to calm them down and just seamlessly fit into the group.

"It's a strange change of pace, I was honestly expecting to be capitalising on the advantage we scored yesterday. Without their cavalry and the losses, they've suffered, we hold an advantage." This was one of the main points of confusion amongst many of the commanders who had asked many questions about why they weren't attacking.

"Robb will have a plan, never seen him without one," Lucas answered. "He's got something planned and I reckon this whole thing is part of it."

"Kind of elaborate, isn't it?"

Patrek's concerns were valid, Robb had proved time and time again to be capable of overcoming great odds. But to those that knew the truth, things looked bleak and unbeatable. Forty thousand men from the Vale plus the twenty thousand men under the command of the Old Lion. If that was the case, then that left them with eighteen thousand men to fight sixty thousand.

The pressure of that weighed heavily on everyone and there had been a great deal of tension when the news had been leaked. They had expected this of course, with an army this size, spies would be more than expected to make trouble wherever they could, they had their own spies hidden amongst the Lannister forces. To sow discord by revealing the news of Vale reinforcements was standard tactics, demoralising an enemy force that was running high on numerous back-to-back victories was just good sense.

And from the way things seemed to be shifting amongst the camps, Robb was attempting to counteract the drop in morale, and it was working. Simply by appearing and talking to the men as if he were a common soldier, Robb was raising the morale of the troops once more.

-X- Line Break -X-

Riding across the grassy fields, Dickon slowed his horse down from a gallop to a gentle trot as he and his men closed in on the entrance to the command base. Numerous wooden palisades had been set up, forming a sort of makeshift fort around the base of the hill, many more levels leading up to the top of the hill.

He'd never seen anything like it before, not on an open battle like this.

"Halt!" One of the guards shouted. "Who goes there?"

"My name is Dickon Tarly, I have an urgent message for the King from my father, Lord Randal Tarly!" He informed loudly.

There was a moment of silence. "Let them through!" Part of the palisades opened up and Dickon and his men, five hundred mounted knights rode through. Dickon went straight up, flanked by a small group of ten soldiers, the remainder of the men he had brought remaining on the lower levels of the hillfort.

"Dickon! What brings you here?" Garlan asked, walking up towards the heir of Horn Hill as he dismounted from his horse.

"I have an urgent message for the King from my father. Where is he?" Dickon asked.

Garlan looked down at the men from the top of the hill, Dickon did the same looking upon the bloody battlefield spread out before him. The Lannister army was in sight and the left and right flanks were a good mile out further forward. Only the centre was nearby at the foot of the hill having been recalled after the battle yesterday, with the cavalry detachments just slightly in front of the centre but in line with the flanks.

"He should be at the left cavalry contingent, I'm not sure when he'll be back, but he will be eventually. You're welcome to go there if you want, but I would suggest waiting. Please, come sit we were about to eat." Garlan directed Dickon to the seat who reluctantly did so, moving towards a large group of people. "introductions should be in order, everyone, this is Dickon Tarly. Dickon, these are members of Robb's personal guard."

"Dickon?" Smalljon snorted, sharing a few chuckles of amusement from people. It didn't bother the heir of Horn Hill like it once had and instead, he just remained stone-faced. Around him, Daryn, Wendel Manderly, Robin Flint, Perywn and Olyvar chuckled in a bout of childish amusement. The other members looked similarly amused though seemed to have more control over themselves.

"So, what about my brother, how is he doing?" Garlan asked, wondering how Loras was doing in the Westerland campaign.

"He's fine, he led the charge upon Clegane's Keep and Lannisport and is by my father's side in the siege of Casterly Rock," Dickon said and slowly the group dissolved into a simple conversation as always. Remaining silent, Dickon listened to it, watching as men North, Riverlands and the Reach all laughed a joked like old friends. It was strange in comparison to the force of his fathers which comprised nearly entirely of men from the Reach with maybe a few hundred soldiers from the Westerlands.

This was men from three of the realms seamlessly working together as if they were all from the same place. As if they had grown up together and being friends since they were children.

"The King's coming!" A soldier shouted, Dickon quickly rising to his feet.

"Calm down, Dick. The King's probably gonna wanna get some sleep first before he speaks to anyone." Smalljon grunted out.

"I cannot, the news I carry is urgent." Moving forwards, Dickon made his way towards Robb quickly. "Your grace, may I have a moment of your time?"

Robb paused, his eyes tiredly blinking as he looked up the heir of Horn Hill. "Who are you?"

"Dickon Tarly, your grace."

"Randal Tarly's son." A look of realisation came onto his face. "Well, please, by all means." Robb and Dickon made their way into the largest tent, Dickon pausing nervously as he looked upon the wolves laying on the floor in a corner. Robb didn't pay them any mind, just heading straight towards a small wooden table where several jugs and a few goblets were sat there. "Wine?"

"No, thank you, your grace." Dickon shook his head and Robb shrugged, pouring himself a goblet before heading to the table. His gaze looked upon the map as two soldiers walked in carrying some food that they placed at Robb's side.

Dickon moved forward, sitting down at the table, he too looking upon the map in confusion. He could make out the formations of the Stark troops as well as the formations of the Lannister, but there was a large host moving south. Just by looking at the wooden pieces denoting units and troop formations, the Vales had more men than both the Stark's and Lannister's combined.

"Would you like something to eat, Dickon?"

"No, thank you, your grace."

"Please, just Robb." He replied, taking a large bite out of the chicken and washing it down with a big gulp of wine. "What news does your father bring, has he conquered the Rock? Your father and I had initially predicted that at the current rate, without incurring major losses it would take another three weeks before it fell."

"No, your grace, Casterly Rock remains strong, even with the blockade," Dickon answered. "My father requests that you follow me and my men along your personal guard and men of note to retreat west. We have boats in the God's Eye waiting to transport you all across. My father believes that it would be wise to bring you to safety while having the men here act as a decoy."

Robb was silent, pausing momentarily as he went to drink more wine, but quickly went back to drink and eating like normal. "I'm afraid there's a problem with that, Dickon. You and your father are good men, reliable men, that's why I entrusted the Westerland campaign to him. But I'm afraid that you've misjudged me."

"Your grace?"

"Tell me, Dickon, what do you see when you look at these maps?" He indicated to the map directly in front, indicating the lands of House Buckwell, mainly the location of their battle, another showing the entirety of Westeros with single figurines indicating the various army locations.

"I don't understand the question?"

"I want you to tell me what you think of the situation and what do you suggest we do?"

"Retreat, your grace!" Dickon repeated urgently. "The Lannister's have twenty thousand men, you only eighteen thousand and the Vale are marching south with forty thousand men to give them aid. Your grace, my father requests that you abandon the battle here and retreat to a more secure location."

Robb smirked. "You're right, retreating would be the safest option, but it's not the one I'm going to take." Dickon looked ready to argue, but Robb raised one hand to silence him. "I'm aware of how outnumbered we are, even with the injured bolstering my ranks to possibly twenty thousand, the enemy still has three times what we have. But that's the thing, having a large force that size requires a clear leader, one skilled enough to utilise those numbers properly. They don't have that we on the other hand do."

Dickon looked thoroughly confused. "I-I, I don't understand."

"That's alright, many of the commanders were confused as well. Just know that I have the plan to utilise the difference in numbers to our advantage. With it, we can snatch victory from the jaws of defeat."

"How?"

Robb smirked, reaching out and taking the wolf figurine from the map of Westeros, he moved it past the lion and placed it directly on King's Landing. And as he did, Dickon's eyes began to widen in shock. His mind slowly fitting the pieces together and as he did, he realised just how risky his plan could be.

If it worked, then defeating the Lannister's on the battlefield wasn't even a priority.

Victory would be theirs anyway.

-X- Line Break -X-

"Didn't go so well, huh?" Garlan noted, watching as Dickon came out with a frown upon his face. "Guess he told you about the plan for tomorrow?"

"Yes," Dickon replied simply, the two moving to join the group of knights once more. "Do you think it will work?"

"Robb's plan?" Garlan asked, Dickon nodding his head. "I'm inclined to say yes. He's not been wrong so far, and I trust him. If he says it'll work, then I believe that it will."

"Will ye be joining us then, Dick?" Smalljon asked.

"My father sent me here to escort the King to safety. He never told me what to do if the King said no." Dickon replied. "But yeah, I'm going to fight." This made Smalljon laugh, smacking Dickon on the back and thrusting a tankard of ale into his hands. Every camp had been distributed with the last of the ale and wine from their stores, all as a final gift to the men before tomorrow's battle.

As Smalljon manhandled Dickon into drinking more ale than the young man could handle, Garlan watched Dacey shoot him a look before rising to her feet. "Here, Smalljon, give him the rest of mine." Garlan handed over his tankard and rose, following after Dacey as he did.