*Grey Worm*
The helmets of the Unsullied were slender, faceguards jutting down past their chins. The eye-slits were only wide enough to allow the user to look at a fixed point, with just enough periphery to see someone coming from before them and to the side, but no more than a couple of steps. That was why the Unsullied were trained to be very quick on their feet, reacting with almost lightning speed to face off against any threat.
But the true purpose of the faceguard was not necessarily to protect an Unsullied's face. Unsullied felt so very little pain, thanks to the Wine of Courage. No, the faceguard was shaped with one express purpose.
To focus an Unsullied on a target and propel him forward with the determination to kill or be killed. There was no middle ground. No compromise to be made. One or the other would have to die. Only the one who was superior would be the one who would claim victory this day.
Grey Worm could see a target. He could see a whole fucking lot of targets. Enemies he would kill. On the back of every Unsullied's shield was a tally of how many they had killed in combat. He had last added to it in Meereen, with those two masters he had beheaded with a single stroke of the knife. He was rather proud of that particular strike.
The formation held tight around him, exactly eight hundred seventy-four men march on either side of him. Their particular formation was called "Memebatas esh Jenga" or "March of Eight". An entire force of Unsullied with form eight equal ranks. Just roughly seven thousand were present, so it came out to be eight hundred seventy-five men. He was in the exact center of the front rank.
The formation had one tactical advantage. Depth. The Lannister lines of red armor and tower shields with yellow lions might have stretched far out on either side of them, but their lines were thin, and they were worn out. Tired from over a full day and night of fighting. Dothraki archers had kept peppering them throughout the night, or sneaking up and killing a couple of men before their comrades could react.
If all went according to plan, they would punch through the paper-thin lion. Once they had broken through, the front rank would wheel left and plunge through the gaping wound of the enemy lines while the second rank would wheel right.
"Spears forward!" Grey Worm shouted in his rich Valyrian. "Front rank!"
The spears of the entire front rank lowered pointing right at the enemy. No more than a dozen steps separated the two lines. A few arrows still fell among their ranks and Grey Worm could only imagine that several of his brothers may have fallen. That was their lot in life, to die in battle was greatest honor for Unsullied.
"Half spears!" he commanded, "Second Rank!"
This command brought the spear tips down at an angle, stopping just a half foot over the head of the front rank. Now they were so close that Grey Worm could see the whites of the enemy eyes between their eye-slots.
"Attack!" he shouted and with that, the two lines collided.
The enemy hacked at the Unsullied with swords and tried to push them back with spears. Grey Worm moved quickly, dodging the first blow. The Lannister was a fat man, his stomach spilling out of his armor. It was an easy blow to dodge and with a quick lower thrust, and a slight twist to prevent from knocking into the man to the right of him, he spilled the enemy's guts out of his stomach.
The man in the second rank screamed in rage and thrust his own spear forward. Grey Worm caught it with his shield and jerked his shield down. The spear tip went down, and he plunged his own spear into the man's eye-socket. How the man howled as his brains and eyeball were yanked out by the tip of the Unsullied's spear.
A third man he fought, this one lightly armored. His soft leather jerkin designated him as an archer, and he fought with a dagger in one hand and short sword in the other. The man held both weapons at hip level and was bent at a ready position. Despite the sweat that was pouring down the man's face and into his eyes, he refused to blink.
Grey Worm found that commendable. Yet it did not stop him from lancing forward with his spear. The man parried the spear shaft and slashed with his dagger. However, that was his mistake. He was now slow close that the Commander of the Unsullied rammed the boss of his shield into the archer. The blow stunned the archer for only a second. He was already shaking his head and bringing up his sword, dagger limply hanging from a stunned arm.
Yet he was too slow and Grey Worm's spear slashed upwards, catching him under the chin. The man was jerking on the tip of the spear, his body refusing to believe that his brain had been punctured. With a quick pull back with hand and kick of his foot, the archer collapsed.
With that, Grey Worm found himself completely punctured through the enemy rank. With a quick glance to either side, he saw that his entire front rank had either punctured clear through to the other side, or were finishing off the last soldiers they faced. There was no time though to rest on their laurels.
"Wheel left, Front Rank!" he shouted, lifting his spear forward and turning the tip of the spear to visually signify his order. "Wheel left, second rank!"
With that, the entire front rank swung. It was hard for him to see down the entire length of the line, as the bodies of the Unsullied blocked half his view either direction. So, he used the body of the man to the left, his motion guiding him forward. Soon, he was facing down the entire Lannister line, which was scrambling to refuse its flank, a technical term all Unsullied knew to mean that they were trying to turn their flanks to face the oncoming attack.
Yet he refused to let the sight of them dismay him. No, he was here to kill them all for his Queen. He was to kill them all, and return to Dragonstone covered in blood and have rough sex with Missandei until she could take no more. Missandei of the Island of Naath was a woman who demanded rough sex, and he found it at times more strenuous than battle.
Forward they marched forward and soon they were again in fierce contest with the Lannister soldiers. Unlike the soldiers of the Masters of Yunkai, Astapor or Meereen, the Lannister soon proved themselves to be far tougher than Grey Worm had imagined. Breaking the front line had been relatively easy that facing off against all these warriors who realized now that they were doomed and fought like men who were resigned to death.
The formation that had carried them through the ranks began to come apart, but not because they were being beaten back. No, the success of some Unsullied drove them further into the ranks of the foe, while other Lannisters held firm and refused to budge. Grey Worm and the man to each side of him was among the former, and their skill drove them forward. The eunuch to the right was Purple Cur and the one to the left was Red Shit.
Purple Cur jumped over a fallen Lannister and attacked the next man in line. Grey Worm would have loved to watch Purple Cur take down his enemy, as he was a massive brute, but he was faced with a tricky enemy. The Lannister wore no helmet, and one eye was blind, a massive gash running down his face from an old wound.
Grey Worm jabbed high, low, high again. Left and right he swung his spear, hoping to catch his foe across the torso. But the man parried each blow, tossing his blade from hand to hand to catch each blow with a different hand and Grey Worm could not see much difference in strength between the two hands. Red Shit speared a Lannister and tossed him sideways, the man falling between the two combatants.
"I'll give you credit, you cockless cunt!" the one-eyed warrior said, hacking forward. Grey Worm caught the blade and stabbed forward, only to have the man grab it by his other hand. "You and your shit brothers are good fighters. But there is only a few thousand of you. You will not be enough to defeat the entire Lannister army."
"We no need to," Grey Worm replied, his Westerosii still shaky. "We bring friends."
"So you do speak our speech?" One-Eyed asked and he tried to throw Grey Worm back.
"I have good teacher," he replied with pride. Yet he kept pushing himself and now they were in a pushing. Whomever succeeded would be in a far better position to land a killing blow.
"Then I hope you don't mind if I tell you I am going to spit in your eye, do you cunt?" he asked.
"What-" Grey Worm asked, not understanding what he was saying. Yet next thing he knew, thick wads of spittle flew in his eyes. The sudden blinding caused him to recoil ever so slightly, and it was enough for One-Eyed to scream in victory and push hard.
He tripped backwards over a Lannister he had just killed before. He fell hard to the ground and next thing he knew, pain filled his shield arm. He tried to attack with his spear but he grunted as an iron-shod boot fell on it. He could barely see between the spittle that blinded him, but the man had just pulled his sword from Grey Worm's arm and tossed it to the left hand.
He was twisting around to plunge down when his neck exploded in blood. One-Eyed grabbed his neck and staggered sideways, where another Unsullied further down rammed his spear into him. Grey Worm took Red Shit's proffered hand and allowed himself to be pulled up.
"Your arm," the man commented, inkling with his head toward the bleeding shield arm. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," Grey Worm replied, reaching up and wiping out the spittle from his eyes. An Unsullied only concerned themselves with loss of limbs that would hinder their fighting. The blade hadn't even hit bone and even though bleeding, wouldn't hamper his performance too much. He bent down to grab his spear. "I am fine. We must continue on. If we could….."
His words were interrupted as Red Shit's stomach exploded with a sword blade that emerged from it. Before he fell, Grey Worm was up and he plunged his spear, directly into the killer's stomach, paying him in kind. Yet even as the man screamed in pain, he grabbed the spear shaft in a death grip and raised his sword to deliver a counterblow. Grey Worm could feel the pressure he was putting on the spear so he let it go and the man collapsed forward, his sword going wide. The spear drove through the man as the butt hit the ground.
Grey Worm left the man on his weapon, instead picking up Red Shit's spear and continuing onwards. Purple Cur had waded into a swarm of enemies and even now two spearmen were driving him down into the ground as a swordsmen plunged his sword down into his face.
He could see the resistance stiffening. Third and Fourth ranks would have pushed forward and spread out, facing off any reserves that the Lannisters may have hiding in reserve. But they would need additional help to punch open a hole wide enough for the horde to race through without fear of being cut off. They were just waiting for Grey Worm to signal when he assumed it was okay.
"Black Rat," he shouted to the man to his left. "Continue forward. I go to collect the fifth and sixth ranks. I must also observe the battlefield as a whole."
"Yes sir," the Unsullied pounded his fist and onwards they pushed.
Grey Worm turned and ran at a good run. There were bodies of soldiers every foot of the way. There were more Lannister dead and wounded than Unsullied, but there were far more than he liked. Now that Grey Worm was back far enough that he could overlook the entire line, he looked back, and found that there were gaps forming the line and in many places, Unsullied were being singled out and encircled by the superior Lannister forces.
He turned back and redoubled his speed. He had to get back and get men pushed forward. Unsullied were not much about taking initiative, despite all their fierceness. It was a reason they had been handled so roughly in Meereen by the Sons of the Harpy. The assassins had been original, not bound by routine and quick to change to situations. The Unsullied had not been. He needed to teach initiative to the Uncut if they were ever to replenish their numbers and win this war.
Grey Worm turned his head to find that the third and fourth ranks of Unsullied had stopped advancing deeper into the hollow of the enemy lines. Indeed, they were spreading out into a long continuous line. Why had the attack stopped? He needed it to continue!
Turning, he ran the hundred yards to talk to one of them. He approached the line swiftly and when his legs were just barely beginning to feel the burn, he grabbed an Unsullied, a small warrior that didn't come quiet to his chin.
"Why have you stopped the advance?" he demanded. "We need you to punch further in."
"Horses approaching," the man explained and pointed with his spear.
Grey Worm looked, and he saw a long line of horses thundering across the hollow towards them. Where the fuck had they come from? He had seen the entire contingent of Lannister knights fall in battle. Were they Dothraki? No….he could see the glint off their armor.
"Prepare to receive horse!" he commanded, although her knew that what they were doing. "I will send help to you. Hold fast!"
He turned and ran towards the other ranks. They had stopped at the initial breach. Why hadn't the Third or Fourth Rank commanders sent word for them to come assist them? He looked to the right attack and saw that it had stalled and was actually being pushed back slowly by the defenders.
He had three fronts and three separate battles to send men to and only four ranks left to work with. And the Lannisters had just thrown a nasty surprise his way. Battle was fluid and one was supposed to be just as fluid.
"Damn!" he snapped in High Valyrian.
This was about to get far more interesting.
