Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Clash for Skagos

Kingshouse was a stone structure, located on a grassy plain on the edge of the sea, butting up against the coast. Off the shore, rocks could be seen jutting out from the sea in the distance. The shore itself was uneven with rocks, though Baldur could see small row boats pulled onto more level area's on the beach. 

Around Kingshouse itself were haphazardly made walls of stacked rocks around twice Baldur's height to keep enemy raiders out, circling the town completely, even along the coast. It was a crude defensive structure, but effective against the type of warfare found in Skagos in times past. Skagos wasn't a place of great besieging armies where one would fight behind castle walls, waiting out from protection from enemies to gain an advantage. The Great Clans of Magnar, Stane and Crowl had little to fear from being besieged, as none of the other clans could match them in manpower, and would likely not launch an attack to take over their clan seats. What they did have to fear, was raiders, sending their numbers to steal from their stores in surprise attacks and make off with their food, of which they had built the crude walls to defend against. They were never made with the intention of siege warfare.

Baldur's troops had swept through the remaining country from the south, forcing every clan to disband and join his, most doing so with no resistance, accepting his terms offered. The remaining clans were often small and held little hope of resisting mere raiders, let alone Baldur's armed troops. Many of their warriors had fled, joining House Magnar and Stane, leaving their people to be assimilated into Baldur's clan. They had seen that resisting alone was a foolish idea against superior numbers it had seemed.

In the north of the Isles, his uncle had conquered the remaining clans as well, with much the same success. He had defeated all of the mountain clans and his smaller force had taken over the lands of House Stane, who were left with little defense, nor the will to defend themselves. He had reported that likewise, the warriors had fled, leaving the people to assimilate into House Crowl without suffering any form of wrath.

As Baldur had marched through the many small hamlets and villages around the lands of House Magnar, much the same had happened. The people, busy at work on harvesting their fields, planting new crops and going about the daily life of spring, had simply agreed to join his clan. Baldur was a bit put out that no battle had happened for some months as his people swept through the remaining isles.

It seemed that House Magnar and Stane, as well as a number of smaller ones had joined together in hopes of crushing his army on the beaches outside kings house. After which, they would take back their lands and finish off Clan Crowl itself, who would no doubt offer little resistance as their warriors were killed off in battle. They would take their bountiful harvests and disperse them throughout the clans, and then ready themselves for attacks on the mainland when the call came. That was at least what Baldur had gathered.

As he was joined by his uncle, they had set up camp on the hillside overlooking Kingshouse, where he could see his many enemies encamped at the village center, readying themselves for battle. Baldur had prepared a number of different strategies for defeating the opposing clans, all of which were centered on exploiting weak points in the barrier surrounding Kingshouse and negating their defensive advantage. He had theorized the many ways in which they may put up barricades or barriers in an effort to stop his army from falling upon them and had even considered setting his own counter barricades up to force them into attacking his own, for fear of starving while Baldur's own men were well supplied and held the farmland. It would have been dreadfully boring and likely a couple of months in length, but ultimately successful as he owned all the farm lands and supplies, while they had only what they had managed to get from two spring harvests, enough to last months, but not indefinitely. All however, had been for naught and a waste of time.

Ivar had reported that they planned to meet them in the field, according to what he had heard from sitting on the wall as a crow through the day. He also reported that a few fair maiden's were found within the keep walls, family of one of the Chieftains, even had offered details on her daily routines, though Baldur surely wasn't interested in that. Ivar had proven invaluable, but sometimes Baldur wasn't sure his mind was in the right place.

Baldur had overestimated the Stane's and Magnar's it seemed. He had been planning the battle like those he had seen on the Stepstones. He hadn't really expected them to march out into the field and face them in battle. Though he was being short sighted in that assumption he realized. Skagossons were proud warriors, not prone to hiding behind walls and relying on strategy that may not decide a conflict by the strength of one's arms. They also held the numerical advantage, and little understanding of mainland warfare.

Baldur however, was overjoyed at the thought. It had been a dampener on his mood to think that they would have to sit through a lengthy siege or a series of skirmishes. Instead, it seemed his foes would prove their mettle and come out to meet him in the field in the song of steel. It would make for a story that would do Baldur proud. He would be forever be engraved in the legends of Skagos after this day. His name would be known for this occasion and Baldur intended to make it one of resounding success.

The enemy forces were being led by Chieftain Wengo of Clan Magnar and Chieftain Gyrd of Clan Stane, as well as a number of petty Chieftains from smaller clans that had joined up with them. Chieftain Gyrd was a strong warrior who had a fierce reputation in previous skirmishes around the peninsula. Baldur's own father would often day dream about meeting the man in a battle to the death. Baldur only hoped he could do his fathers memory justice and do that. He would be proud to see Baldur live out his boyhood dream in his place.

That morning, the men had assembled on the field of battle, all 1000 of his warriors gathered for this final bout for the Isles. His warriors were formed up in a style foreign to Skagos, bolstered by a number of conquered clans that had sworn their warriors to him. Lines of archers brought up the rear, numbering around 300, mostly made up of the newly acquired warriors from the smaller clans who hadn't the experience or training of his men. 600 of the warriors made up the bulk of his forces on foot, all arrayed into lines wielding shields, while last was his 100 mounted unicorns.

The plan was rather simple and had been quickly established, following the revelation that they would meet on an open field of battle. The bulk of the warriors, led by Baldur, would march out to meet them, forming up a shield wall, while the archers under Ivar would rain arrows down on their enemy. The mounted forces under Rolf would then sweep in and catch them from the flank, pressing them into disarray, at which point the warriors would press forward to overwhelm them.

To break their spirits, Baldur had ordered the men to form great balls of hay and grass from the surrounding area to light on fire and roll into the enemy lines as they charged up the slope. He hoped it would be a surprise that would further demoralize them and shake their resolve. Skagossons were proud warriors, but even they had a breaking point. Certainly flaming balls of fire rolling into their lines would cause them some hesitance.

Across from them, 1500 Skagossons under the enemy clans were gathered in front of their town walls. Many were seen shouting at Baldur's troops, mooning them and even pissing at them. His troops were likewise responding in much the same manner, an exchange of pre battle pleasantries at its greatest.

"A spirited lot" Vilkas spoke from beside him in the lines as he eyed the enemies. Baldur merely watched in amusement as what he thought may be shit was hurled out at them. A spirited lot indeed, and courageous men. They would make for glorious enemies that the bards would speak of for some time. Nothing on Skagos was as great of an occasion as the clash of warriors. "We have come far, our goal within sight." Vilkas said wistfully. "Thank you Baldur, for pushing for our peoples future, your father would be proud." Vilkas spoke in honesty as Baldur patted the man on the back.

"We are not their Uncle, we have many heads to smash yet and prestige to earn. Thank me after the battle, as I will thank you, for orchestrating such a beautiful thing as this." Baldur informed his uncle as the man barked out a laugh.

"Indeed, we of the Crowl clan shall prove this day which clan is the greatest of warriors." His uncle agreed.

"Don't forget, led by the greatest warrior of all!" Baldur informed him, pounding his own chest in the process as his Uncle raised a brow.

"You have much to prove to attain that lofty role, perhaps after this battle we shall see." His uncle informed him, tarnishing Baldur's ideal moment in the process.

"Well, I shall get to proving it then Uncle." Baldur informed him loftily. "Unleash the fire balls!" Baldur ordered loudly as men pushed forward the large bales of hay and flammable material and began lighting them on fire. Soon they were unleashed, beginning their descent down the hill into the waiting forces as his men cheered loudly at the sight.

"Archers, draw!" Baldur shouted as the line echoed his orders. Down the field the bales had reached the enemy, causing them to scatter around them and break up their mass of bodies gathered together. More were coming down at them, further spreading them out as they avoided the flaming objects. "Fire!" Baldur shouted, waving his sword as a rain of arrows was unleashed on their foe.

The Arrows landed amongst their enemy, who were poorly armored and hard pressed to defend against the attack if their shields weren't quick enough to stop them. Many shields amongst the enemy were, but any arrows that slipped past were sure to wound or kill whomever they hit.

His enemies tried to return a sporadic fire, but their bows were of a weaker make and they lacked the high ground that Baldur's own troops had to be effective. "Continue fire!" Baldur ordered as more arrows were released against their enemies, as were the last of the flaming bales. He could already see it affecting their ranks. Skagossons were traditionally ill suited for this type of warfare. Their people thrived in skirmishes, where they could use their skill at arms and strength more effectively, not in large battles where large scale strategy and tactics often decided the winner. 

Their enemy seemed to have recognized this, and sought to close the distance as they began charging up the hill to meet Baldur's own forces amongst the fire of arrows, intent on drawing it to close quarter conflict in which the Crowl archers would prove less effective. A giant of a man in a bear skin cloak wielding a large mace and bronze mail could be seen rallying the men up the field. He would certainly be a worthy opponent for Baldur to face.

"Shield wall!" Baldur yelled as his men formed up. "Today, your name goes down in history!" Baldur bellowed as the men cheered. His former lowered spirits were forgotten at the sound of it. How he loved the excitement in the air before an armed conflict. His blood was pumping and he was ready to unleash his sword on his enemy. "Brace!" He warned as he brought his own shield up as the first of the enemies came pounding against them.

Baldur could see what looked like a goat head adorned on his first foe, it's skull acting as a crude half helm as the man attempted to thwart his shields defenses through repeated strikes with his two handed bronze axe. It dinged against Baldur's heavy built shield, chipping away at its face before he slid his blade home in the man's stomach, dropping him to the ground.

All around him the sounds of battering could be heard as bodies swarmed and pushed up against the shield wall. His men behind the shields were hacking and striking at stray limbs, parting them from their enemies bodies in which would surely prove fatal, as very little in the way of healing could be found on Skagos. Injuries sustained by the warriors were often left to shamans who had at best, disputable methods to treat injuries. Baldur knew this from his knowledge, and it was one thing he intended to fix in the future.

Baldur continued to prod and slice the coming enemies, relishing in the warm spray of blood upon his body as his opposition fell at his feet. Next to him, Vilkas held his own, proving himself a capable warrior that despite his beliefs, was no less the Skagosson. He laid his enemies low with practiced strikes that spoke of his experience in battle. His men likewise were doing well, filling gaps where men were killed and weathering the storm of the enemy in the process.

Soon, the sound of hooves could be heard as the cavalry came flanking from around the hill and into the rear of the enemy force, driving them to confusion as many turned to try to stop them, only to be ridden down. The cavalry pushed into the center, running their lines over and scattering them in the process.

"Forward men, push them from the field!" Baldur directed as the shield wall began to come apart as his warriors surged forward into their battered ranks with a fury. Baldur pushed his own shield forward, driving the man behind it down as he was trampled over by Baldur and the men behind him, likely not surviving the stampede.

What soon followed was a disorganized melee of bodies as both sides began fighting in a mix of men throughout the field, the sound of clashing weapons of all manner rising above all other sounds. Baldur enjoyed the symphony of it as he found himself in his happy place, weaving in and out, striking foes and crushing heads with his shield. Running forward to meet another foe, he came face to face with the cavalry who had worked themselves forward far enough to wedge the enemy between the Crowl Infantry and warriors, with little hope of escape.

Baldur saw a man wielding a spear bellow out a challenge to Baldur and rush his way. Baldur readied his sword in anticipation at the man's fearless charge, only to be thwarted at the last moment as none other than Rolf Crowl came galloping through on his unicorn, spearing the man on his unicorns horn. "That's right you cunt!" He bellowed happily as he flew by, leaving Baldur standing with his sword raised, looking the fool as his eyes darted around for a nonexistent foe to engage. "Fuck you!" Baldur shouted after his retreating cousin, doubtfully heard, but at least he felt somewhat satisfied that he got the last word in.

With a sigh, he turned to scan the field, spotting the large man from before smashing his way through with his hefty mace. Vilkas had run forward with a number of his own men to engage the man and his warriors swarming around him. The man had to be Gyrd, Chieftain of the Stane's, if Baldur recalled. His mouth salivated at the very thought of taking a foe such as him down as he scampered after his uncle, pushing his body to catch up.

By the time Baldur had drawn close, Vilkas had already begun engaging Gyrd after he had smashed a man's head in that had attempted before. Vilkas had apparently taken that under advisement as he danced around the swinging great mace of bronze, avoiding it and sending jabs back, drawing blood. Gyrd however, wasn't alone as Vilkas had to thwart a couple of spearmen who were proving difficult to overcome.

"Come here so Gyrd can smash you!" Gyrd ordered Vilkas loudly, pointing a meaty finger at him. Vilkas responded by snapping one of the spearmen's wooded shafts and decapitating him, sending his head bouncing as Gyrd chuckled. "I will enjoy crushing your skull!" He said with glee, stomping his way through.

Baldur chose that instance to interrupt as he barreled into Gyrd with all his strength, sending them both tumbling. Gyrd was certainly a giant, surpassing Baldur's height of 6'7, with the lofty height of at least 7'0 from what he gathered. As Gyrd rose back to his feet he lumbered forward as Baldur stumbled back to his own feet. The two met again as Baldur attempted to deflect his mace with his shield.

As the two objects connected, Baldur could feel the very bones in his arm rattle as his shield bent from the impact, though achieved his goal, sending the mace glancing off to the side. Baldur didn't hesitate to send a savage slice to the man's sternum, cutting the bronze chainmail and leaving a gash in the process, much to his pleasure. Gyrm stared down at the gash and then back at Baldur before laughing out in deep bellows. "I'm going to shove this mace, up your arse and through your heart you little shit." He promised.

Baldur unleashed a series of well aimed jabs at his foe, who despite his size, managed to deflect them rather well with his wooden shield, though splintering it in the process. "I'm going to enjoy cutting off your-" Baldur responded, in what he was sure was going to be a clever insult, at least in his own mind. Unfortunately, he was cut off as he man brought his shield around, breaking it over Baldur's armored face, surely shattering his nose in the process as his head snapped back, helm denting.

Baldur stumbled back from the impact as Gyrd laughed out and swung his mace down, attempting to finish the fight. Baldur was quicker than that though, sliding his well forged castle steel up to meet the bronze mace, only to have his sword bent back as the two met, making his eyes go wide. His beautiful sword had been destroyed, his weapon of death ruined. His eyes watered at the thought as he was left staring at the bent steel.

With a fury, he moved in close, ramming Gyrd back and sending a slice with his bent sword, catching the man on the right leg, causing the great form of Gyrd to fall off balance and onto his back. Baldur leapt on top of him, latching on to his arm that carried the mace in one hand, and driving his sword through the man's arm with his other, pinning it to the earth as he grunted out in pain, releasing the mace.

Grabbing the mace, Baldur hefted it up and brought it down with two hands, only to have it be caught by Gyrd's large palm on the handle. Baldur forced both of his hands down and pressed his weight onto it as it slowly lowered towards the man's head, its spiky form inching closer. With a last push of effort, the spike embedded itself in the man's face, causing him to bellow in rage. Baldur lifted the mace, this time, bringing it down on the man's arm, shattering it, and with it, the last of his resistance. Again and again he then rained down blows, turning the man's head into pudding.

Rising in satisfaction, he let loose a roar of victory as the enemy troops began to break at seeing their commander die. Throwing down arms all around as the last battle of Skagos drew to a close. Baldur could see dead men laying scattered around the field, many more enemies than his own. It had been a bloody day, but an equal amount of enemy soldiers were still standing as well, leaving their losses at what looked to be just over half. Despite the feel of the battle, it hadn't lasted very long, a swift and decisive victory to cement Baldur's legend on Skagos, much to his pleasure. 

Following the battle, the clansmen remaining inside the fortified Kingshouse had surrendered to his mercy and were marched out into the field. Most of the remaining occupants of the Kingshouse town had been women and children, numbering around 1,000. That is likely due to the fact the warriors had sent most of the people not fighting to the surrounding villages to be granted clemency.

Among the occupants of the Kingshouse were the families of the enemy clan Chieftains. Vilkas had singled them out with Ivar's help, pulling them to the front to be dealt with first. Of Clan Stane, Gyrd was dead, while his son, daughter and grandchild were alive. His son, large like his father, was a quiet man, who said few words, other than to surrender his forces. Beside him, his wife looked to be whispering words in his ear while his sister folded her arms with a stubborn look on her face.

Of Clan Magnar, the Chieftain was alive and well, if a little battered from the fighting. Unlike Gyrd, the Chieftain was lean and tall with red long hair and a curly beard. By his side, his wife and two sons. He had accepted defeat gracefully, only asking that his people not be harmed, that he was willing to accept any punishment, should they be spared.

Baldur had gathered his own close kin and friends to the meeting between the three clan families. Hadvar was in good spirits, smeared in blood, already boasting of the fighting as they walked to the meeting. Ivar, much cleaner, though no doubt successful in slaying at least as many was in attendance as well. Rolf, Vilkas, Guthrum and Erik finished out the group.

"What shall we do with this lot?" Vilkas asked, motioning towards the group, waiting in silence for the judgment. "Trial by stone of course." Baldur said, drawing out his bag to his hand.

"Baldur, sometimes mercy is more effective than carrying out your promises to lay any resistance low." Erik whispered to him, drawing the eyes of those around them.

"Mercy? Why should I grant them mercy?" Baldur scoffed at the thought. He intended to follow through with the trial.

"These are the two largest clans. You will decimate the remainder of your warriors, leaving us vulnerable to attack from the likes of the Bolton's, should they try. Plus, the population will be inflicted with losses that we don't need. They are beaten and shattered by your hand, now use that same hand to lift them up. They know you are capable of carrying out your promises with brutal efficiency, now prove to them you are also worthy of accepting their defeat graciously and moving towards a future together." Erik urged him.

Erik did have a point, in a sort of soft hearted way. If he did put them to the sword, he would be lacking warriors in case he needed them, and the population in the area could do without another blow following winter. It was one thing to put the small clans through such a trial to prove a point, as their numbers could easier be regained, but to put the two other largest clans through the trial would leave their population hurting for years to come.

"Fine, but let it be known if this backfires, we should have strong armed them my way." Baldur replied to him as Erik nodded in agreement. "Anyone else feeling charitable?" Baldur demanded from the remaining group.

"I could do with a woman." Ivar requested, only to receive a punch from Baldur. After that, everyone else simply shook their heads.

"Excellent, let's get his over with so we can get our damn shipping rights back!" Baldur urged.

The talks hadn't lasted too long, the defeated clans had been amiable to all the agreements, for they had little other choice. The lands of all of Skagos, now belonged to clan Crowl, and all clans were disbanded, with the exception of Clan Magnar and Stane, who would control lands that would be set out in the future, in service to Clan Crowl as their over Chieftains. They would also be paying due taxes to Clan Crowl and answer their calls to war when needed. Finally, any laws laid out by Baldur would be followed, especially the one curbing more fanatical religious practices.

In simple terms, they would be minor noble houses in service to a greater noble house, operating an allotted amount of land under that noble house and paying taxes to it as the regional authority. This was a foreign concept to them for the most part, but the finer details would be worked out in greater detail later for them, most likely by Uncle Vilkas.

As the group split up, Baldur was already looking ahead to setting sail on the next trade ship to the main land and marching into Winterfell to deliver the news. He would no doubt be heavily praised by Lord Stark, a well over due thing, and finally earn the man's trust in Skagos. As Baldur day dreamed of this, voice could be heard pointing towards the sea, drawing his attention.

Off the coast, Baldur could see a great ship gliding by calmly, the purple sails placing it from none other than Bravos, if Baldur recalled. In the water, a small row boat had been placed, and was steadily drifting towards the shore. Baldur would have thought it to be a meeting, to celebrate his conquering of Skagos, though he soon found himself to be mistaken, as the great galley seemed to be drifting away from the shore, sails pushing it in the wrong direction. Perhaps the man was a messenger for a meeting?