24

Chapter Twenty Four

Eastwood Keep

The Next Day

Lukas POV

Bryce Buckler was almost over the walls.

No one had expected them to take the castle so quickly. But as Lord Aelon had told him and the rest of the officers, 'No plan survives contact with the enemy.'

Lukas and the rest of his contingent had been given the order to garrison the castle to split the enemy forces a couple of days ago. Near four hundred men, both Eastwood and Errol men at arms had together manned the castle. But only a select few officers were informed of the real plan.

A sly grin stretched across Lukas's soot-stained and blood-smeared face. The past few hours had been brutal. Bryce Buckler had assaulted the keep with near two thousand men. They had obviously come prepared with ladders, battering rams and climbing gear to take the Keep.

The attack had begun under the cover of night, a scant few hours after the parley. The invaders obviously did not wish to waste time once they found out that the real prize was in the town, but the obvious threat of the garrison in the keep needed to be dealt with first.

The assault had begun a few hours ago, and while Buckler was succeeding, Lukas and his men were making it an expensive victory. For every man of theirs that fell, they made sure to take at least three of the enemy's.

But the enemy's numbers were great and wave after wave of enemy soldiers kept coming no matter how many they felled. After hours of the assault, his men were tiring. Of the four hundred men that had garrisoned the Keep, already, nearly a hundred and fifty were dead or injured, with the injured being ferried back to Eastwood through the tunnel.

Lord Aelon hadn't left them without support though, fresh men would come through the tunnel as well to replenish their depleting forces, and bring with themselves supplies and arms. But even so, it was slow going, the tunnel was narrow and long, and carrying the injured through it took time.

The problem lay in the fact that the Keep was just not large enough to hold that many men. The walls were tall and strong but still susceptible to being overrun if the enemy was well prepared and had the numbers. The enemy had arrived with ladders, rope, and battering rams and it was clear that the men were well trained in siege tactics. That had been unexpected.

Lukas was no master strategist, but even he could see that Bryce Buckler had come well prepared to siege the castle. As Ser James had explained, capturing the Keep was of vital importance for them. Its strategic location atop the hill overlooking Eastwood made it the perfect staging point for the enemy to set up camp and lay siege to the town.

Furthermore, the strategic advantage of holding the high ground would go a long way towards mitigating the advantage of the walls of Eastwood when their assault inevitably began. But as Lord Aelon explained, if they were able to inflict heavy casualties and deny the enemy control of the Keep, they could end the war in a single night.

His Lord had made his will clear and Lukas would see it done. Even now, as he stood on the walls and held the enemy's advance, he could see that the battle was not going in their favour. Ser James had made him second in command of the Eastern Wall, which seemed to be the focus of the enemy assault. An Errol knight had initially been given command, but an enemy bolt had struck him in the eye in the very first hour of the battle.

As the senior-most officer left alive, he had taken command and Ser James had not deemed fit to relieve him of it thus far. Even as the battle continued, and men in Buckler and Fell livery attempted to breach the defences, Lukas could not help but think of his family.

If he survived this battle, surely Lord Aelon would award him with a knighthood. Perhaps even grant him some lands in time. With a knighthood and his Lord's favour, his family would want for nothing. He could ensure a dowry for his sister, the likes of which would see her married well enough that she would never have to worry for food and shelter ever again.

Perhaps, just maybe, like Ser James, he could even secure for himself a noble bride. That would be something. His Ma and Pa would never have even imagined that little Luke, the runt of the litter, would have lands of his own and a noble bride to boot.

His fantasies of the future were just that though. Fantasies. He would have to survive this battle first. His family's lives depended on it.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted one of his men go down. One of Buckler's men had managed to climb up his ladder enough to stab the defender in the shoulder.

Bellowing a battle cry, he charged straight into the mayhem, and with a quick manoeuvre, just as Ser Morden had taught them all those years ago, drove his sword into the enemy soldier's neck just as the man was attempting to regain his footing after climbing over the parapet.

He immediately took up the fallen defender's position and eventually after much struggle, with a great heave, managed to push the ladder over even as the man still attempting to climb up it let out a terrified scream as he fell into the mass of bodies below.

The imminent danger having passed, he turned his attention to the wounded soldier next to him. The man was moaning in agony as he clutched his shoulder, attempting to stem the flow of blood.

Leaning next to the man, he quickly examined the wound and determined that if he received treatment immediately, the man would survive.

Barking out orders to the other men under his command, he lifted the wounded soldier and slowly but steadily made his way to the Great Hall which had been designated as the shelter for all wounded soldiers to receive treatment. Upon reaching his destination, Lukas sighed as he laid down his fellow soldier amongst the other wounded.

"Lukas!" came the voice of Ser James. The master of arms had decided to remain in the keep to lead its defence. His presence had provided a great boost in morale to the troops, especially after many hours of fighting. Even Lukas found his admiration for the man go up a notch. Few nobles would take on such a task, where the chances of survival were so bleak.

He turned to face the knight. It was evident that the man in question had seen better days. His armour was battered and bloody and the man was walking with a noticeable limp as he made his way to the guardsman. A nasty looking gash had opened up on the man's brow and blood was flowing down the young Potter's face.

"It's time," said James Potter gravely, "instruct the men to begin emptying the barrels of whisky. Make sure that they cover each section of the keep properly. The enemy is occasionally using flaming arrows. Make sure that you avoid dousing any portion that is liable to catch fire before the time is right. I want you to personally oversee this."

"My lord? So soon? If we hold for just a couple more hours the enemy will undoubtedly cease their assault to rest."

"I wish it were so. But we will be lucky to last another hour. Much less two. You have your orders, Lukas. See to it. I'll make sure that we hold them off long enough for you to douse every nook and cranny of this castle. Do you have the instructions that Serwyn wrote for you?" asked the knight with a weary voice.

Lukas nodded as he pulled out the paper given to him by Lord Serywn. It contained the locations in the keep where he was to make sure that the whisky was poured liberally. Apparently, those areas had been filled with 'flammable materials', which would help spread the fire once the match had been lit.

"What of command on the Walls sir, there are few senior officers left to take command?" questioned Lukas.

"Gerry will take command. You've done an excellent job holding the walls, Lukas. Now you are tasked with something far more important. Make sure that the men follow those instructions. Take thirty men with you and begin. May the Gods be with you," said the Master of Arms as he gripped Lukas's shoulder.

The guardsman could only nod at that as the Master of Arms swept away barking orders at the nearby men as he returned to the defence of the Keep.

Lukas looked down at the piece of paper clutched in his hands. By the gods, he would be burning down the Keep. The very idea was hysterical. When Lord Aelon had reconstructed the Keep, he along with the rest of Eastwood had rejoiced. The Keep was a monument to the progress that had been made in the past years, of the prosperity and wealth that had been brought to the lands and a reminder that House Eastwood stood proud and strong.

To burn it down was blasphemy for any man of Eastwood. And yet he had been ordered to do so by the Lord Aelon himself.

Rage burned through Lukas's veins, rage at Borys Baratheon, at Bryce Buckler and all the other highborn lords, who had attacked Eastwood and sought to destroy everything they had built these past years. And for what? To decide who would be the regent for some lordling in Storm's End?

Smallfolk hardly cared about the whims and fancies of the high lords. They tilled the fields and tended to their flocks. They worked day and night to ensure that their families had food in their bellies and a roof to sleep under at night. The Lords cared not for them and they cared little for the Lords.

But not in Eastwood. Lord Aelon put food on their tables and built houses for them to call home. House Eastwood had done more for the smallfolk in a few years than most other nobles did in entire generations. And yet the Lord of Eastwood had personally tasked him to burn down the Keep. And so he would.

"Gather around men. Lord Aelon has entrusted you sorry lot with a job to do. And I will see it done even if it is the last thing I do," bellowed Lukas as he gathered his men.

"By order of Lord Aelon Eastwood, we are gonna burn this Keep down and with it every godsdamned bastard assaulting our walls. Our Lord would rather burn the Keep than see it turned into an enemy camp. And so we shall. Get your sorry arses off the floor. We have a job to do!"

Eastwood Keep

An Hour Later

James POV

"Put your back into it lads! If I see another man in Buckler or Fell livery cross over the walls, I'll personally throw the nearest man over!" shouted James through the pandemonium.

Hell. That was the only word he could use to describe the situation. All around him the sounds of battle raged as the Buckler and Fell forces led by Bryce Buckler attacked the walls of the Keep like mad berserkers.

James had thought he knew war. He had learnt under the best after all. For years he had spent hours every day in the yard, honing his skill. He had accompanied Ser Morden on patrols, hunts and even in skirmishes against bandits.

At the scant age of six and ten, he had been blooded when he had driven his sword through the guts of a bandit. He had competed in and covered himself in glory in tourneys throughout the Stormlands. And yet, nothing could have prepared him for the sheer horror that was full-scale war.

Nothing had gone as per the plan. Aelon and he had hoped that they would be able to hold the Keep for at least one night, but it was now clear that Buckler's forces would overrun their defences in the next few minutes.

Whoever was in charge on the enemy's side, had obviously thought this through. Near two thousand and five hundred men were assaulting the Keep. The rest were positioned facing Eastwood to prevent any attack while their attention was focused elsewhere. They were sieging the castle in waves. Spent and fatigued men being immediately replaced by fresh ones.

It seemed that like Aelon, Bryce Buckler had also been preparing for war these past years. How that had slipped through their spies, James did not know, but the Bucklers had excellent siege equipment and their men were well trained in its use.

Even now, Ser James could do nought but try his best to salvage the situation. They may not be able to hold the Keep but he would make sure that it did not become the staging ground for the assault on Eastwood.

But even so, the situation was not all that bad. Buckler had incurred heavy casualties attempting to take the keep while their losses had been substantially lesser.

Even when Trant and Borys arrived with as many men as they could muster, their numbers would not be enough to overcome Eastwood's defences. If all went well, this war would end in a single night.

"Ser James!" he heard a voice shouting and looked behind to see a rather haggard looking Lukas approaching him.

"Tis done my Lord," said the soldier as he looked at him grimly.

The din of battle roared around James as he took in the words. The deafening cries of battle calls, clashing weapons and the dull thudding of the battering ram that was on the verge of breaching the gates. In the distance, he could see the lights of Eastwood, where Aelon and the rest were undoubtedly watching with bated breath as they saw the castle nearly overrun.

"Call the retreat. Once the men are through to the tunnel, burn it. Burn it all down."

Lukas could only nod as he immediately marched off to follow his orders. He was a good man, Lukas. An able soldier, loyal and competent. Perhaps he would knight him after this war ended. He could think of no man in Eastwood who deserved his spurs more.

But for now, it was his job to ensure that all his men got out alive before they burned the castle down, and along with it, as many Buckler and Fell men as possible.

The next few minutes, and it could not have been more than ten and five minutes at the very most, felt like hours as James stood alongside the men who remained on the wall as they cut down Buckler men who were assailing the walls. Man after man fell to his sword and his hand felt numb as he was bathed in the blood of the men he felled.

Below, he could hear the gate groaning as it was hammered time and again by the battering ram as the number of men holding it dwindled as they were slowly tasked to retreat.

Even atop the walls, at his direction, slowly but surely, the defenders were tasked to retreat to the tunnel. They had five minutes at the most before the Bucklers were over the walls and another ten before they breached the gate.

Mindlessly he swung his sword and cut down another man in Buckler livery who had attempted to scale the wall. On the far end of his vision, he could see that defenders had been nearly overwhelmed as a few enemy soldiers had scaled the wall and were engaging his men in combat. The Western Wall was already lost.

It was now or never.

"RETREAT!" He called out and kept shouting as he slowly but surely backed away from the parapets and gathered his men as they hastily made their way to the castle.

The next few minutes passed in the blur of blood and steel as he and his men struggled to make their way to the Keep. Eventually, they made their way to the Great Hall. From the corner of his eye, he could see that parts of the Keep were already aflame. Lukas had done his job well.

His men and he made their way to the tunnel where they were greeted by the grim face of Lukas.

"Ser James, yeh made it!" exclaimed the man at arms.

"Was there ever any doubt," replied James with a wry smile.

The man shook his head as he let out a snort of laughter.

"Is everyone through?" questioned James.

"Yer among the last, my Lord."

"Good. We shall leave then and seal the tunnel behind us. Aye, my lord. You 'ead on in, I'm just waiting on Olly and Mern. The two are supposed to light up the great hall."

"Very well Lukas," replied James as he proceeded to duck into the tunnel before turning to say, "I'll see you on the side."

"Aye my Lord," said Lukas as he pumped his fist against his chest.

Nodding at him one last time, James turned and made his way through the darkness of the tunnel.

The darkness was stifling and the sudden lack of sound was near maddening. For hours his ears had been assaulted by the cacophony of clashing steel and dying men and now it was silent save for the shuffling of his feet and the clinking of his armour.

Eventually, he made his way to the end, where he was greeted by Aelon himself.

"You're late," deadpanned Aelon as he extended his hand to pull him up.

"Well my Lord, I apologise for taking too long to burn down your castle," replied James wryly as he stood up and faced Aelon.

Near simultaneously, smiles broke across their faces as they laughed out and embraced each other.

"I am glad you made it out alive my friend. For a moment there we feared you lost," said Aelon.

"It'll take more than a couple thousand Buckler men to kill me, Aelon."

"Aye. And a good job you did too. The castle is burning. And Edwell says that the screams of the dying Buckler men is music to his ears. The plan succeeded. You succeeded James. Take heart in knowing that your actions have saved thousands tonight. With his numbers so reduced and with the Keep unavailable to him as a staging ground, Bryce Buckler would be a fool to attack Eastwood with the men he has remaining."

James could only nod at that as heard the sound of approaching footsteps from the tunnel. He turned to see Mern and Olly limp out from the tunnel.

"Where is Lukas?" questioned the Master of Arms of Eastwood. Only then did he see the shaft of an arrow sticking out of Olly's thigh as he was supported by Mern.

"He went back, milord. Olly 'n me were to light a fire in the East Wing, but as we was passin' tha yard, Olly 'as hit bah an arrow. Came outta nowhe' milord. Twas all I could do to carry him back tuh tha tunnel," replied Mern as he heaved and gasped for air.

"And what of Lukas?"

"He went back, milord," said the soldier, eyes set in fury but a tear running down his cheek, "enemy 'ad broken through bah then. Ah said 'e was runnin' tah 'is death. But 'e said dat da mishun came first. Commanded us to seal da tunnel be'ind us 'e did."

A hush fell across the room as they processed his words. James sighed and palmed his eyes as the words hit him. Lukas had been a good man. One of the best.

"He succeeded you know," came Aelon's voice as Mern and Olly looked up at him, "the Keep is burning. And if Lukas had not set the East Wing ablaze, the Bucklers would have managed to put the fire out and take control of the Keep. And everything we have fought for tonight would have been for nothing."

"He will be remembered," vowed Aelon solemnly.

Eastwood Town Hall

The Next Day

Aelon POV

The siege of my castle had ended in fire and blood. Watching a significant part of my life's work go up in flames had nearly brought tears to my eyes, but I could only hope it would be worth it in the end. I sat in a chair within the main hall of my town, idly sipping a cup of whisky. I would not allow myself to imbibe to drunkenness though, despite my feelings, there was fighting and planning left to do in spades.

The past few hours had been a flurry of activity. Although I had hoped that we would be able to hold the Keep for more than just a few hours, the siege of the Keep had been an overall success. Bryce Buckler had obviously come prepared. The fact that he had excellent siege equipment and that his troops were well trained in their usage had somehow completely evaded my spies. I would need to have words with Warren about that particular failure.

But even aside from that, the objective of evening out the numbers had been achieved. Based on our scouting we could reasonably conclude that the enemy forces had lost around fifteen hundred soldiers to death and injury in taking the keep and the subsequent fire.

In contrast, I had only two hundred men of my own dead with another three hundred or so being too injured to participate in further battles. With Buckler only being able to call upon three thousand odd men at this point, we actually had him outnumbered.

Borys and Trant would be able to raise no more than another three thousand men. Even then, they would have to be morons of the highest order to believe they had a chance of overcoming the defences of Eastwood.

In most cases of siege warfare, assailing a town would require an advantage of five to one in order to stand a chance of success. But that was not the case here. While Eastwood's walls were strong, they were not that great a multiplier. In comparison to the walls of Lannisport, Oldtown or even Duskendale, my walls were shorter, thinner and weaker.

With the preparedness of the Bryce Buckler and the excellent siege equipment that he had brought with him, even a smaller advantage in numbers would serve him well enough. But with his losses, even reinforced by Borys and Trant, it would not be enough to overcome my walls.

All in all I was pretty happy with the situation. Sure, I had burned down my Keep, but with the reparations, I would receive from Buckler and Fell, I could build it back bigger and grander than ever before. Obviously not on the scale of Storm's End, but good enough to rival Haystack Hall or Bronzegate.

With Buckler and Trant unlikely to attack, Garon and I had agreed that it would not be necessary to sally out and crush the remnants of the enemy while they waited on reinforcements from Borys.

Lord Adam had argued in favour of that particular strategy and the man had a point. With the losses they had incurred during the siege, we had them outnumbered at the moment. If we met them in battle, we would likely crush them as our forces were better equipped and relatively more rested. However, Garon had been unwilling to further the violence and bloodshed when it was likely that the enemy would have to negotiate for peace after the disaster that was the last battle.

Adam wanted to make an example. The utter destruction of Buckler and Fell's forces would see the Lords humbled and weakened. It would lay low their Houses for generations to come, paving the way for the rise of Houses Eastwood, Tarth and Errol.

There was also of course the concern that the Lords in question would be able to wriggle out of harsh punishment. If that happened, much of our efforts would be for nought. But following his course of action would cost the lives of men on both sides. Men who could be put to work once this war was over.

Fortunately, it seemed that the Regent was not a bloodthirsty chap as he did not want to unnecessarily shed Stormlander blood. I agreed with him.

The Gods must have sensed my thoughts as at that very moment one of my messenger boys came back breathless, "My lord, Connington and Baratheon banners have been sighted along the road. We counted as many as four thousand men."

Murphy you son of a bitch.

I swallowed a mouthful and cleared my throat before responding, "Well done lad. I'd like to tell you to rest up, but I'm afraid someone needs to tell Lord Errol and Lord Garon about this. Ask them to meet here, we have planning to do."

The boy nodded frantically and ran away.

I sighed and rubbed my hands over my face. Suppressing the urge to throw my cup at the wall, I took deep breaths instead. Now was not the time to lose my temper. Gathering my wits, I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair as I awaited Garon, Errol and his vassals.

"Lord Eastwood, I heard we have received some troubling news," I opened my eyes to see Lord Adam surrounded by his cadre of vassals. Garon entered the room right behind him, with a perturbed expression on his face, undoubtedly now regretting his decision not to attack the remnants of Buckler and Fell's army. A regret I shared with him.

"Indeed, Connington has for some reason sided with the enemy and marches to meet up with what remains of Buckler and Fell."

There were frowns and considering looks on each of his allies' faces while Adam's face curled up into an expression of anger, "Evan Connington! Never liked that poncy little coward. He spits in our faces by making common cause with a cunt like Borys."

Adam spoke first, "How many?"

"About four thousand in total, including what Borys was able to gather from Storm's End."

Edwell winced, "That would put their numbers at double ours. If only Lord Tarth had been able to arrive in time to garrison the town."

"Even if Brynden arrives, we will still have to contend with the forces Trant is bringing in. I have received word that the man has finally marched from Gallowsgrey with a host of two thousand men. In hindsight, it is clear that the coward was waiting for Connington to commit his forces before he marched," added Adam as he let out a sigh of frustration and took a seat next to me.

"Taking that into account they will have us outnumbered three to one once Trant arrives," sighed Garon as he rubbed his forehead. He was probably thankful at this point that we had sent Boremund, young Mya along with my family off to Tarth a few days ago. Defeat was a genuine possibility at this point.

"Why would Connington turn traitor in such a manner? He trades regularly with both Eastwood and Haystack Hall, more so than with Bronzegate. We even offered his heir Ser Ronnal's daughter's hand in marriage. The man had far more to gain by remaining neutral," added Edwell.

"Lady Jocelyn," I said as the room fell silent at my words.

"Her hand in marriage for his heir along with a few more incentives would definitely explain Connington's decision to support Borys," agreed Adam as he stroked his beard in contemplation.

"Aye, that would do it," grumbled Garon with a demoralised look on his face. A look that was echoed by the others in the hall.

Seeing the need to boost morale I said, "Yet our fortifications here are stout. The earthworks prevent the use of siege towers and will slow any assault, giving us much more time to pick them off from afar. Ladders though will remain a problem."

Lord Garon, his face set in a dark frown, responded, "It seems to me there is little else to be done to prepare."

We all nodded at his words, "Indeed, the preparations around the town were completed days ago and we cannot risk sending men out of the gates now in case of an attack. We can call no more reinforcements and must merely trust in the strength of our steel and my liquid fire."

Garon's expression turned sympathetic at that, "Yes, the loss of your castle was an incredible thing to witness, I believe they suffered almost a thousand and five hundred casualties from that alone."

"Yes, although five hundred of my own men perished or were heavily injured in the siege as well."

The conversation changed into a discussion on numbers and the best way to deploy our forces to face the next inevitable attack.

This war was to be short but brutal.