Chapter 112: Act 2: Chapter 48

Seventh day, Ninth Moon, 260 AC (+1 days)

Ryden POV

After the first assault, we spent the rest of the day standing at the ready, much like we had been today. The trebuchets worked constantly to reduce the city's defenses, targeting the gates, gatehouse, as well as the area behind the gates. The fire that was started at the gates yesterday had been swiftly put out, but Lord Baratheon quickly reformed our ranks so that the enemy could not sally out, and then he changed strategies. We were still under a time constraint, but it appeared he was going to be more cautious this time.

Hours of bombardment had collapsed portions of the gatehouses, though they still somewhat stood, and the gate was cracked and splintered open – though we now had a pile of rock in front of it, which the defenders were only too happy to add to, in an attempt to reinforce their gates. A few crenellations along the wall were chipped or broken from stay shots, but they were otherwise untouched.

The city looked like it had been through hell, but Lord Baratheon was not going to risk another failure. So, we stood waiting for the signal that would send us forth. We had no idea what waited for us on the other side of that wall, but it ought to be nothing but rubble after the constant pounding it had received. Even still, rocks were being tossed in the air, their thuds reverberating in my bones.

Eventually, smoke started to rise furiously from beyond the city, near the harbor. Still, there was no horn. What was happening? Was the fleet attacking the city? Was our fleet burning?

As smoke continued to rise in increasing amounts, we stood still.

Just as the tension was becoming unbearable, the horn blessedly sounded.

Eager, but still confused, we moved closer to the city with our bows ready. Like yesterday, the walls were manned, but today they had less cover than before.

"Loose!"

A few defenders had wooden shields propped up against the wall to give them additional cover, but they weren't tightly secured and fell after only getting hit a few times. This time, the exchange was far more even, especially since the ballistas had been destroyed by the trebuchets.

"Loose!"

Our arrows still tended to skid off the walls or fly past without hitting anything, but theirs did little better. Men don't like to stand out in the open – not if they have a choice. We didn't, but the defenders did, so their commanders had trouble maintaining a constant attack.

"Loose!"

An arrow clanged off my helmet, causing my heart to beat like crazy, but there was no time to stop. This type of archery required no precision. No thought. Pure repetition. Place, pull, and release. Place, pull, and release. Fighting like this wasn't so bad, once you got into it.

"Loose!"

This time, men pushed a wheeled contraption to the gates. It was tall, with a sloped roof, and large wagon wheels to help move it around. Men huddled beneath it as it moved to the gate. A tool to protect the men as they removed the rocks from the gate.

"Loose!"

They began to remove the rocks piled in front of the gate. Ladders stood at the ready but remained unused. Why die trying to climb one when you could walk into the city for free? The defenders tried to shoot them, but the contraption proved effective – as did the men's armour and shields.

"Half water!" I shouted, giving the signal for the right half of my men to take a quick break and get some water. "Loose!" I shouted, for the other half.

It was then that I realized that my bones had stopped shaking, and I hadn't noticed. The trebuchets were still, and I could only imagine that their crews were relieved to be able to rest finally. Boys ran in between my men, dropping off more arrows for each, and filling up waterskins. Bless those boys.

"Half switch!" I waited for a second, then shouted, "Loose!"

I took a moment to myself had had some water. The men at the gates were steadily clearing the area, but there were too many men to see clearly. Smoke still hung heavy over the city, but it didn't seem to me like the fire was growing anymore. I still didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.

Eventually, the gate was cleared, and I could see men with axes trying to chop down the gate. A runner went and got men to move the ram forward – the defenders had reinforced the area behind the gate. The defenders redoubled their efforts to drive away our men, but the gatehouse no longer gave them impunity, so their efforts were cautious, and our men were well protected beneath the siege wagon.

Runners ran the gauntlet between the gate and Lord Baratheon, carrying status messages. Before long, Lord Baratheon gave the signal for his men to ready themselves as the men at the gate started to roll back their shelter, exposing the opened gate. The defenders atop the wall were moving about like mad.

"Loose! Keep those bastards down!"

Lord Baratheon's men went into a turtle shell as they passed through the gates, with the rest of us cheering them on as they entered the city at last. The joy was not to last. The cheering died down as the column ground to a halt inside the city. It wasn't until later that I learned what happened, but at that moment I stared in confusion.

I was told later that the defenders had created a ring of rubble inside the gate and manned that to halt our attackers. With the defenders having the high ground, and stable footing, and the rest of the entrance area being covered in unstable rubble, the attack's momentum was halted. Lord Baratheon kept his men in formation, and their shields held tightly together, but the ring of defenders stopped their attack, and stopped them from spreading out and using their numbers to their advantage.

The defenders started to hurl insults at the trapped men, laughing at their foolishness. As the morale seemed to wane among our men, Lord Baratheon led a charge before the men lost all hope. He crashed into the enemy line, swinging about his great Warhammer, but his men had trouble following him. Some slipped and fell, while others were repulsed. He managed to secure a small area, but as enemy reinforcements arrived, his men pulled him clear and back to the safety of their group.

All seemed lost until the heir of Deepwood Motte, Benton Glover, son of Master Ethan Glover, seized the moment. He had some of his men throw large chunks of rubble at the enemy shield wall, while the others raced forward with axes and hammers. They fought with wild abandon, and while they did so, the rest of his men used spears to attack the exposed legs of the enemy. Sensing victory, the men of House Cerwyn pushed forward behind them, securing the backs of Glovers' men, and enabling them to push through, creating the gap the army so desperately needed.

Lord Baratheon paid homage to his House words, and once he saw that the enemy had been disturbed, he charged forward once again, swinging his hammer with all the fury he had from being denied his clean victory. He and his men slaughtered those around them, and the Tyroshi fled deeper into the city as if that could save them.

Lord Baratheon stood atop a pile of rubble and bodies, roaring his victory.

The city was ours.

Xxxx

Arthur POV

The farm was beautiful. The soil was rich, the crops arranged in a pleasing manner, and trees planted to provide a buffer between the farm and the outside world. Carefully shaped shrubs and colorful flowers lined stone pathways, with elaborate benches and marble fountains to accentuate the property. The manor itself was a work of art too. Elaborate artwork and trim work decorated the house, and I imagined that the inside was even more ostentatious.

The slave quarters were, of course, hidden from view.

Bloody slavers.

The manor had been easy to find, and we managed to scout the place yesterday. We had set up in a nearby forest as we waited for the other two groups of men to come in. They had both arrived without issue, and reported their general success, with only three deaths among them. Me and the two other captains, Jacke and Jamie, sat in camp, waiting for the return of the scouts who were getting information about the guards.

"I never realized how horrific some of these slaves are treated," commented Ser Jamie Staedmon.

"Aye," replied Ser Jacke Waters. "We came across a caravan that only held slaves – ones destined for the mines."

I winced. "That couldn't have been good."

He shook his head. "They were all chained up and stuffed in a wagon. Looked like they hadn't eaten in a few days."

"What did you do with them?"

"What could I do? I let 'em go – made sure to go through that mummery you insist on – but I didn't have food to spare. I can't imagine they're still free."

"The mummery sits poorly with me," said Jamie. "Hiding our intentions like this feels wrong, as does not helping the poor slaves more."

"I know," I said tiredly. "It is necessary, but I hope to change that with this farm."

"A place of safety," said Jamie. "That will be a good thing."

"For a while, at least," I replied. "We can't get complacent. This will offer us shelter and time to plan for our next steps."

"Bigger targets," said Jacke.

"Freeing slaves properly," retorted Jamie.

"Both," I said.

We were approached by a dirt-covered scout, who saluted as he reached us. "Sers!"

"Ah, Jarak. What do you have for us?" I asked.

"Ser, there are fifteen men guarding the property. Two of them like to walk around every so often, while the rest stay inside the main building, with two of those watching the front door at all times."

I nodded thoughtfully. "What of the other doors to the house?"

"I got close and tried to open a few quietly, but they were all barred."

"Did you get a close look at the front door?"

"Close, ser, but not too close. It looks like strong wood, and it has a sort of gatehouse-type thing above it so that the guards can see out."

"Arrow slits?"

Jarak scratched his chin. "Just what they use to see out of, which would probably work well enough, ser."

I frowned and looked at Jamie and Jacke. "Thoughts?"

"These places are weaker than a good castle," said Jamie, "but I still am not eager to storm one."

"The barn is a separate building, so we might be able to starve them out," said Jacke.

"Starving them out would take too long – we don't even know how much food they have; it could take weeks," replied Jamie.

"Did you get a close look at the guards, Jarak?" I asked.

"Aye."

"Did they look well-trained? Well-armored? Strict? Dangerous?"

Jarak shrugged. "Not overly, Ser. They had nice weapons and armor, but they didn't strike me as veterans."

"So, low-grade but shiny men-at-arms. More than enough to scare away a bandit or two, and enough to impress guests. I would imagine the family would have more and better-trained guards with them at all times. These are the dregs."

"A fight should be easy enough then," said Jamie.

I grinned. "Or, we could just scare them into doing what we want."

"Oh?"

"Jarak, take ten men and capture the two roaming guards quietly. Bring them back here – alive. Then leave five men or so behind to watch and see if they send anyone out to investigate – capture them alive if they do."

Jarak saluted then went about collecting his men.

I turned to Jamie and Jacke. "Once we capture the men, we can demand the surrender of the men inside, or else we will kill their friends."

Jamie looked surprised. "I don't think that will work – everyone knows that when you control a defensive place, that you don't give it up easily."

"These are green men – men who have done little else but spend time with each other. I'll bet they care more for their friends than they do some absent merchant."

They both nodded their acceptance of my reasoning, and we returned to talking about supplies and discussed how their missions played out in more depth.

About an hour later, Jarak and three others brought two sullen men into camp. Both were stripped down to just some undergarments, with their wrists tied together.

"Any trouble?" I asked.

Jarak shook his head. "We got the drop on them."

"Excellent! Tie them to the wagon in the middle of the camp. Let me know if the men catch anyone else."

Jarak saluted and dragged his prisoners away. Jamie turned to me and asked, "When will we bring our demands to the manor?"

"If they send out more men before dark? Then today. Otherwise, we wait until tomorrow, after they have spent the night wondering where their friends are."

It turned out we didn't have to wait long. Three men went looking for our prisoners three or so hours after we captured the prisoners, and while they were wary, they hadn't been looking for trouble. With five of the fifteen guards as prisoners, I marched to the house with forty of my men. Another fifty had been sent to secure the slave quarters, and the overseers there, while another fifty went to the small cluster of homes that made up the freemen of the property. The rest of my men stayed in the forest, ready for any trouble.

The path leading to the house was remarkably flat, made of smooth, interlocking stones that had only the tiniest of cracks between them. The amount of effort that went into creating the path must have been enormous. Not as smooth as concrete, but the sheer number of hours that went into its creation was a testament to the wealth of the owners.

The front door, and it really was more of a front door than a large castle gate, was closed, but the gatehouse above it was not. The gatehouse looked like a second floor to the manor, with a half-open balcony for the guards to look out from. At the sight of us approaching, one of the two men standing guard ran inside shouting.

Once we were close, but outside of bowshot, I had my men force the prisoners on their knees in front of me, and I waited for their leader.

Men rushed out onto the balcony, talking to each other, but I could not make out the words. A tall one, wearing a cloak, silenced them. He called out, "What business do you have here?"

"Surrender, and you will live!" I shouted back in the Valyrian tongue.

"Have you hurt my men?"

"They live. Surrender and they will continue to do so."

"This land belongs to the Tarlarys family! You make yourself an enemy of them! And they will not take kindly to this insult!"

"Surrender and live!"

"They shall find you! They shall torture you! They shall sell you! Your days will be unending and in misery!"

"We care nothing for them. Or you. Surrender and you can leave."

The men on the balcony shuffled nervously, but it was hard to tell in the fading light. The sunset bathed everything in a red glow, and the torches on the balcony cast a sinister shadow.

"My men are elite warriors! Trained and hardened in battle! Taught by the best! We shall never surrender the land of the great Tarlarys family!"

"The Tarlarys family cares nothing for you! You know this to be true! Do not throw your lives away for nothing! We outnumber you!"

"Lies! What are you?! Braavosi?! Lorathi?! Some sort of northern savage, I bet! Little better than Dothraki! You know nothing! Bandits! Thieves! Good for nothing! The great Tarlarys family will gain little coin for selling you, but they shall be satisfied with your torment! Flee while you can!"

"Do you speak for all your men? Are they all so willing to die for nothing?"

He said nothing.

I motioned to one of my men and said, "Kill that one."

The prisoner, realizing what was happening, began to struggle and plead. "Please, no! No! N-."

His crying was cut off as my man cut his throat, and he collapsed on to the path.

"One of yours is dead. The longer I wait, the more die."

Still, he said nothing. A minute passed, and I motioned again - another thump.

"Again, you die for nothing! Surrender and live!"

I could hear them talking on the balcony, but it was too quiet to make out.

Finally, a, "No!" was shouted. "We will neve-"

The words were cutoff, and another voice called out, "We have your assurance we will live?"

"Yes! Come out slowly and throw your weapons to the side of the path!" I called back, relieved.

A moment later, the front door opened, and the men trudged out, looking defeated. They threw their weapons to the side of the path as they walked toward us, and I called out, "Hands in the air after you throw the weapons."

My men spread out around them, and I motioned for the guards to kneel. "Is the house empty now?"

"Just some servants, lord," replied the same voice that called out the surrender.

"How many?"

"Twelve."

"Are they slaves?"

He nodded. "Houseslaves, lord."

I turned to Marwyn and said, "Check the place out."

As I waited for him to return, I said to the prisoners, "Soon, you can leave."

My men stayed silent, as they were told to, as we waited. A few of the younger prisoners just looked like frightened rabbits. The older men on their knees just waited with their heads down, despondent, just waiting for this to all be over.

I clenched my fist tightly, for I would have to oblige them.

Marywn and the men he took with him returned ten minutes later with twelve slaves, one of whom was curiously wrapped head to toe in cloth.

"That it?" I asked.

He nodded but didn't respond verbally, not trusting his ability to speak Valyrian.

I turned to my men, who stood waiting for my orders, to the men kneeling on the ground, waiting to leave, to the slaves who looked on fearfully, and I gave the order, "Kill them."

My men lunged forward, butchering the prisoners, without mercy. The prisoners tried to escape, but they were surrounded. It was quick, and it was bloody.

"Strip them and move their bodies somewhere else."

My men grinned, happy to have some real loot, as the house beckoned.

"Marwyn, move the slaves to a room and keep them there for now. Post two guards."

"Aye, Ser!"

"Jarak? Send a runner to the other three groups and let them know we've finished here."

"Aye, Ser!"

"The rest of you explore the house, but don't trash it! We may be here for a few days, and I don't want to live in a place that looks like shit!" The men laughed. "And keep your swords close at hand and your wits about you! No drinking until we've secured the entire farm!"

With that, the men rushed off inside. I followed at a slower pace as the men ransacked the manor. The interior was truly remarkable, with finely laid tiles covering the interior, with gorgeous artwork displayed on them. The front hall's artwork looked like it told a story, no doubt of the Tarlarys family, and it told the story like a scroll, continuing down the hall.

Noise echoed throughout the manor as my men rushed to and fro, but I wandered aimlessly taking in the sights. Finally, I stumbled upon what looked like an office. Large bookshelves dominated the walls, Myrish rugs covered the floor, and cushioned chairs sat around a large wooden desk. A pile of maps sat innocently on the corner of the desk.

Jackpot.

I perused the bookshelves, finding some world histories and fictional stories, but also some trade ledgers and even some family history. This kind of stuff was exactly what I was looking for. I took a deep, shaky breath and stepped out of the room to find some men walking down the hallway.

"Don't disturb me in this room for a while, not unless it's important."

They all nodded.

I shut the door firmly and sat on the nicest chair. Hopefully, this information would help us launch our campaign, and we could truly begin our work.

Hopefully, the dead boys would have a purpose. Hopefully, it would all be worth it.

Tears ran down my cheeks.

Hopefully, things would get better.