Chapter 25 - The 30th day of October, 298 years after Aegon's Conquest

It was a long and largely sleepless night for Eddard Stark.

At least he had a roof over his head. He had considered trying to make his way back to the Gold Cloak's Barracks, but he did not want to leave the siege unattended and was unsure about even fighting his way through the surrounding streets. He then considered merely sleeping in the muddy street, but his men had grumbled at this state of affairs and he had quickly relented. They had started knocking on doors down the embassy street. With some cajoling and thinly veiled threats, most of the occupants had opened their doors for the city watchmen to take as their own temporary quarters. The manse next to the Australian embassy was owned by a wealthy merchant, one who apparently owned a dozen ships that made regular runs to Gulltown, Pentos and Myr.

Twenty men now slept downstairs, while the owner and his family had retreated, grumbling, to the upper level. Eddard slept in a surprisingly comfortable space. It was evidently part sitting room, part storage. Myrish rugs had hung from the walls, perhaps a recent import. They had stripped them off the walls and laid them down as mattresses, to the mild horror of the owner.

Outside, it was never really quiet. The mobs had retreated, but they had not completely dispersed. Several thousand still roamed the surrounding streets. Some were building further barricades to match the ones erected by his own men. There was an irregular thudding as arrows were impaled in the roof or landed somewhere outside. The occasional flaming one would produce an accompanying streak of light. A few times, Eddard was woken by the alien sound of what he now knew to be gunfire. He hoped the Australians were only firing warning shots.

Shortly before dawn, one of his own men came over and shook him awake. Fifield was asking for him. Eddard gathered what few items he had stripped off to sleep and limped out into the street. The sky was a bit lighter. He saw the silhouetted forms of Australian commandos crouched on the roof of their manse. Others were still buttoned up in their vehicles or crouched by the gates behind whatever bits of cover were available. They glanced at him briefly and waved him in. Another commando escorted him up to the same room Fifield had taken as his office.

"Sleep much Lord Stark?" he asked pleasantly.

"Some" Eddard grunted. He did feel tired.

"Help yourself" Fifield said, gesturing to a plate of toast on the table before him. Eddard sat down and accepted the offer gratefully. "How are your men getting fed?"

Eddard frowned. He hadn't thought that far ahead yet. "I will have to send a party back to the East Barracks, but it will be hard to get past the mob."

Fifield nodded. "It would be best. We kept plenty of stocks for ourselves, a month's worth, just in case something like this happened. Feeding your own men would reduce that by at least half, but its an option. Just means more frequent resupplies."

"Resupply? How so?"

"By helicopter" Fifield said simply.

"Would the arrows not interfere?"

"They'd have to be very big arrows" Fifield said. "Still, they've been going all night haven't they? Tapping on the roof like rain. The men are joking about Westerosi weather. Tomorrow, partly cloudy with moderate arrow fire overnight or something like that."

Eddard thought the ambassador was appearing to look unperturbed. He couldn't say he shared his good humor. "Did you wish to discuss something?"

"Yes, I've been talking with Canberra. We're strongly considering a plan to help you extract your household from the Red Keep. We may then follow that up by withdrawing the embassies and leaving King's Landing for now."

Eddard was surprised by this. "You would do this?"

"Yes. We will help you."

"Then I thank you."

"You have shown your qualities Lord Stark. You led your men here the moment you knew the embassies were threatened. Several of them were lost. The mob lost more of course, but you have bled for us now. If nothing else, that builds trust, does it not?"

Eddard nodded. If not for the exhaustion of the last few days, he might have felt a touch of pride at this praise. "Aye, I hope we have built up sufficient trust and respect of each other, my lord. What plan do they consider?"

Fifield launched into a lengthy explanation, complete with diagrams of the Red Keep. When he had finished, Eddard was thinking quickly. "It sounds like a good plan if your men and machines can operate as you say. But if I may be so bold, if you are willing to do this, and can fly right over the walls in your machines, why not seize the whole Red Keep?"

Fifield seemed to consider this for a moment. "Its been discussed, of course. But there are problems. From what we can see there are five hundred men or more stationed there. The complex is quite large, hundreds of rooms, dungeons, hidden passageways, the works. We could do it sure, but we'd probably lose a few men fighting in close quarters, to ambushes, murder holes, falling in a moat of spikes...Depending on the level of resistance too, we might end up creating a small mountain of Westerosi corpses. Who'd trust us then? I think we'd be proving ourselves the monsters Cersei says we are."

"Very well, I understand. So you wish for me to accompany you?"

"Yes. Your household don't really know if they can trust us, do they? But if you come with us you can explain, very quickly, that we're here to help. That should be enough to convince them to open the door and hop on board."

"Yes I agree. Dawn tomorrow then?"

"Yes, we are making our preparations now. Dawn is the best time for this. Your household can hold out for one more day, I trust?"

"Aye, I expect they shall."

The discussion continued a while longer. Eddard was just finishing off another piece of toast when they heard more gunfire from down the street, what sounded like the American embassy. They both looked up. From the next room a commando emerged to report that more armed men had arrived to reinforce the mob. As if in agreement, a few more arrows thudded audibly into the roof above them.

"I think you'd best get to it Lord Stark" Fifield said. "I will see you tonight."

Eddard thanked him for the breakfast and proceeded back down downstairs. The sun had risen now, its rays nearly horizontal, shining into through gaps in the surrounding buildings. He roused more men from sleep in the manse next door, then checked on the perimeter. The barricades were more built up than yesterday. They'd thrown tables, chairs, bedframes, bookshelves, trunks, crates and anything else substantial onto the heap, ignoring the protests of the street's occupants.

A hundred feet further on, at both ends of the street and in several alleyways, the mob had been doing the same. Men crouched behind the piled furniture, jeering, praying to the Seven and loosing the occasional arrow. A group of Warrior's Suns had tried clambering up the walls of the manse behind the American's, prompting the gunfire. Most appeared to have been warning shots, but one man had persisted and finally been hit, the bullet piercing clean through his breastplate. His body now lay on the rooftop, a dropped crossbow strewn nearby, while the others had thought better of the venture and retreated. Another pointless death Eddard thought. He had already seen war twice. He wasn't sure if this quite qualified as his third yet.

By mid-morning, Eddard knew he would have to address the food situation. He summoned what City Watch officers were present, as well as the two Royce brothers. They quickly worked out a plan. Andar Royce, the oldest of Bronze Yohn's sons, offered to lead the sortie. Eddard gave him twenty men. They mounted up and charged down one of the alleyways on the east side of the street. The defenders fell back. The Gold Cloaks quickly cleared the makeshift barricade until their horses could merely jump over it. It was noon by the time they returned, escorting three carts worth of supplies. They managed to proceed back in, though not without some swords being bloodied. The mob had hardly let up. Arrows continued to pepper the street.

Andar reported the situation in the rest of the city seemed unchanged. The fires were still burning in front of the Great Sept, though they must have been running low on items of the flying men to burn by now. The rest of the city's Gold Cloaks had stayed well clear of the riots. It seemed they weren't going to join in with the mob, though they weren't doing anything to hinder them either. Their indifference was frustrating to Eddard. He wondered what had happened to Littlefinger and his promise to deliver him the rest of the City Watch. Still, he had little else to pin his hopes on. Absent some change, by this time tomorrow he'd be joining the flying men in abandoning the city to the queen and her supporters. The prospect left a bitter taste in his mouth. It seemed he had failed in his mission to restore order. He had failed Robert, failed the Flying Men, for all the faith they had put in him. More than once, he pondered how he could ever have convinced himself it had been a good idea to leave Winterfell.

Afternoon turned to dusk. The mob seemed to ebb and flow with the time of day, but so far it had peaked around this time. The volume of noise and arrowfire ticked up after suppertime. Eddard was surprised then when just after sunset a small column of Gold Cloaks appeared at the north end of the street, having fought their way through. They were briefly challenged by their fellows and then permitted entry through a gap in the barricade. A messenger brought Eddard, who met the group close to the front of the Australian embassy. Eddard surveyed them closely. They did not belong to the men he and Humfrey Waters had been able to rally. At their head was Lothor Brune, the freerider in Lord Baelish's service he had seen just yesterday morning. He nodded curtly when he spotted Lord Eddard.

"My Lord, Lord Baelish begs his pardons, what with the situation in the city. He bids me deliver some news to you on his behalf."

"And what news is that?"

"Many of the Gold Cloaks at the Red Keep are dissatisfied with the queen's leadership. They do not believe the lies she has been spreading about the Flying Men and think she has brought chaos to the city. They wish for you to resume sitting on the Iron Throne, while we ascertain the truth about the state of good King Robert."

At last Eddard thought. Some good news. Perhaps the situation was not lost. "You say many, but not all?"

"I'm afraid not all, my lord. After Janos Slynt was taken, the queen conferred the status of acting commander on Allar Deem. He appears loyal to her, though many of the men and officers grow discontent. The queen won't let them leave the Red Keep to come here and restore order."

"Can you tell me. how many fighting men are in the Red Keep?"

"At least five hundred, but three out of every four are Gold Cloaks."

"What of my household? They are still holed up in the Tower of the Hand?"

"Yes my lord. They are unharmed so far but…I'm afraid bring more news, less welcome."

"What?"

"We have heard talk. The queen goes paranoid about your own retainers still being inside the walls of the Red Keep. We believe she is planning to assault the tower and remove them, very soon."

"How soon?" Eddard asked, suddenly worried.

"We cannot be sure but the officers have talked of…tonight, the hour of the bat."

Eddard couldn't help but emit a soft curse. Beside him, another voice spoke up.

"The hour of the bat? When is that?"

Eddard turned around. Fifield stood by the embassy gate; the ambassador flanked by a pair of green men. Eddard locked eyes with him.

"Midnight. He means midnight tonight."

######

"I can't recommend it, no. There's not enough clearing space."

"How much do you need?"

"For a Black Hawk? Minimum LZ is a hundred by two hundred feet. The courtyard, beside the Tower of the Hand, is just big enough, in the day. But at night? I simply can't recommend it. The rotors clip something, it all comes down."

Fifield swore under his breath. Over the video link, the hastily assembled conference continued. The PM, General Campbell, and a dozen others were in a heated discussion.

"So we can't move the extraction forward from dawn?"

"Not as its currently conceived no."

"I know this is a difficult situation general. Do we have other military options?"

"If they attack at midnight…assuming Stark's men can't hold out for another five hours…we could insert a team early to pre-empt the assault and defend the tower until dawn."

"How many men would you need?"

"Surrounded by five hundred hostiles? Though without guns? A minimum of twenty I think. Two chopper loads. They'll have to rappel down."

"Very well" the PM checked his watch. "Its four and a half hours until Westerosi midnight, what time do we go?"

"I'll brief them now. The birds are assembled. Eight Black Hawks and two Tigers for support. I'll reassign two squads to this advance party. We'll go in three hours."

"What about Lord Stark?" Fifield interjected. "We have no way of communicating with the occupants. They won't know what we're there for. He still needs to be present."

"Could he rappel with the others?" the PM asked. The general's face looked pained for a moment.

"Rappelling is not easy, let alone at night, with hostiles nearby."

"What then?"

Campbell hesitated. "We could lower him with a rope and harness after the others have gone first…It wouldn't exactly be comfortable."

Fifield turned to the Northern Lord, with a look halfway between incredulity and concern. "Is that ok with you?"

Eddard nodded. "I will do what is necessary. These are my men we're rescuing."

Fifield relayed these sentiments. The PM nodded.

"Very well, I approve of these adjustments to Operation Full Moon."