Land of the King
Chapter 41: The Line of Anárion
Ondoher had been overseeing the Tircarnë campaign for the past few months. The past eighteen months had been full of bloodshed and carnage. Little by little, the Loyalist forces had liberated Raumdor at which point they had taken advantage of their encirclement with a simultaneous invasion of three provinces.
Lord Pelendur and Prince Earendil marched on Ithilien from the capital, the King descended on Calenardhon from Morlond and Ondoher had moved into Tircarnë from Raumdor.
The Loyalists held a greater number of palantiri if only slightly, hence the invasions were easy to coordinate.
Attacked on all ends, the Purists had had no choice but to give ground, retreating further and further every day. Yet Calenardhon had long been one of the most populous lands in the kingdom and Hyarwinion to the south was still fresh and unblooded. It would take years more until they could end the war, but it was already becoming clear who would be victorious in the end.
Arvedui, you entrusted me with ensuring Tircarnë would fall and I will see it done.
Tircarnë was known also as the Dornish Marches. An ancient region contested in olden times between the Kingdoms of the Stormlands and Reach and the various raiders from Dorne. That is until Celepharn the Conqueror had seized the entire territory from both kingdoms and it had been renamed Tircarnë, the Red Guard, a shield to defend Arnor from the Dornish beyond the Red Mountains on the southern border.
Even after the submission of Dorne during the rule of Hyarmendacil, the importance of Tircarnë had not faded, its purpose having merely changed. Tircarnë had become the province responsible for manning the passes of the Orocarni and the fortresses built wherein.
Unfortunately, the war had resulted in those fortresses being the least garrisoned they had ever been and the Dornish had exploited that. Word had already come of how almost all of Dorne had united in rebellion against Arnor. Dornishmen manned the mountain passes, turning Arnor's own fortresses against her and already Vinyambar was under assault.
Ondoher had intensified his invasion of Tircarnë when word of the rebellion had come. There was no doubt that the defenders were now distracted and he had taken advantage of their split focus.
Yet the Purists knew that the fall of Tircarnë would be a death blow to their cause. Intelligence provided by the Rangers had reported that a massive Purist Army had been deployed from Calenardhon to halt their advance, supposedly led by the usurper himself.
Ondoher would not let the news faze him and had marched his army to confront Argeleb. Yet armies on the march are very vulnerable.
"Father look out!" his son Artamir said, as he nudged his horse to the side. The entire front column of their army had come under attack from a hail of arrows. On the road ahead of them, a large mounted force charged for them.
Ondoher rallied his army, but it was too little too late, the enemy's cavalry was decimating their host. Ondoher had barely enough time to send a message warning Minohtar and Faramir in the army's centre before his position was overrun and he, Artamir and the entire vanguard of the army were all annihilated.
"Faramir, watch the left flanks!" Minohtar ordered to his cousin.
Faramir obeyed before riding off to lead the Left Wing.
The army was in disarray. A desperate message had come from the vanguard saying that they were overrun. His uncle Ondoher, and his cousin Artamir were presumed dead along with the entire front of the army.
It was not long before Argeleb's own vanguard had reached them and they were informed by their skinchangers that the main host was not far behind.
With the situation so dire, Minohtar had already begun calling for the army's retreat but before he could, the cavalry of the Purists had fallen upon them.
Battles were a confusing mess. It was often hard to tell friend from foe on a good day and today was not good at all. Minohtar's sword was wet with blood when he was told soul crushing news.
"My lord, the left has been overrun! Lord Faramir is missing!" the messenger cried.
"Sound the retreat! We must withdraw. Inform Captain Eärnil to take the rearguard and leave!" Minohtar commanded.
Everything was happening so fast, he barely had time to think. Uncle was dead, as were Artamir and Faramir? He had no time to mourn. He needed to retreat and regroup before the entire army was wiped out.
Under Minohtar's leadership and that of Captain Eärnil, the army slowly withdrew before the Purists but only their will as commanders prevented the army from breaking formation and fleeing altogether.
Minohtar was able to check the advance of the Purists for some time, yet his efforts would be for naught in the end. He bled out to death after an arrow pierced his neck. The rearguard took his body with them when the retreat turned into a rout.
"Many are calling it a disaster Your Majesty! Lord Ondoher's army was destroyed and now the usurper is undoing all of his work in subduing Tircarnë!" Lord Darklyn exclaimed.
Arvedui clenched his fist in anger. Argeleb had snuck up on Ondoher's army, sending a swift host of mounted warriors to decimate the vanguard. Over the course of the next few days, almost the entire army was overrun and the rearguard had withdrawn under the command of Captain Eärnil. Ondoher, Artamir, Faramir and Minohtar were all killed.
The entire House of Anárion had been almost completely extinguished in the span of a few days and with them an army of twenty-five thousand. A disaster of unconceivable proportion. The entire Tircarnë campaign was now at risk and with it their plans of converging on Arcalen.
Currently Arvedui's army was camped in some town in the north of Calenardhon. The name of which he could not care to remember at present but it commanded a passing over the Mander River and that was all he really cared about.
The war had been going well. News had come of the fall of Minas Ithil to Pelendur and Earendil, Ondoher had been sweeping through Tircarnë with seeming ease and for his own part Arvedui had been steadily marching down the Rose Road to Arcalen. Within the year it had been predicted that they could all converge upon Arcalen, the capital of the Purists and hopefully end the war, but now? Arvedui did not know how long the war would last now.
Ondoher had been good to him, one of his most trusted allies and commandesr. Arvedui had even entertained ideas of naming him his steward at the end of the war, yet that was never to be now. And Artamir, Faramir and Minohtar had all died with him.
Some of his closest and oldest friends, gone in the blink of an eye. Yet they were more than just friends, through his marriage to Firiel, they were kin as well, family, and now all of them were gone.
"How many men does Captain Eärnil now have under his command?" Arvedui asked.
"He has reported ten thousand Sire, yet not nearly enough to halt Argeleb's advance."
Argeleb thrummed his fingers on the table, "Send word to Raumdor. Raise a new host and send it to reinforce General Eärnil."
"General, Your Majesty?" Lord Casterly inquired.
"Yes. Eärnil was high in the ranks of Ondoher's army. If there is any one we can trust to command what remains, it will be Eärnil. Send word to Lord Pelendur and Prince Earendil as well. I want their armies in Calenardhon by month's end. Argeleb has dealt us a great blow but he cannot be in three places at once. Though he has driven us back in Tircarnë we must simply advance further on all other fronts. The sacrifice of Ondoher and his kin cannot be in vain. See to our own arm my lords. We leave at dawn on the morrow and the Purists will know our wrath. Dismissed," Arvedui commanded.
The Lords rose from their seats before bowing and departing, leaving Arvedui alone in the room with Kevan.
Where only moments before he had been the stern unshakeable king, now Arvedui looked tired and sad. The war was too tiring, too exhausting. How many more friends and comrades would he have to say farewell to before it's end he wondered.
"Hey Kevan, get me that bottle of Arbor Red would you. It's in the cabinet over there," Arvedui gestured to the wine.
His faithful attendant obeyed. Bringing the bottle and a cup.
"Get one for yourself as well Kevan," Arvedui ordered.
When Kevan had gotten another cup, Arvedui poured out a great amount for both of their cups.
"To our friends Kevan, to Artamir, Faramir, Minohtar and Lord Ondoher," Arvedui said in a toast before gulping his cup.
"Do you intend to get drunk?" Kevan asked.
"Would that be so bad?" Arvedui asked in return.
"Maybe. We need you to lead us on the morrow. It would not appear well to the rest of the army if the King was intoxicated."
"Ahh, nonsense. We have better constitutions than all other men. You and I could drink this whole bottle dry and not even feel tipsy!" Arvedui said.
"Very well then, to our friends," Kevan said, joining the toast.
They remained like that for a while, reminiscing about long past times and adventures with their fallen friends. Soon they were toasting just about everything, toasting their army, toasting the stupid things they did as kids with their now departed friends, toasting the end of the war, toasting anything that gave them an excuse to drink more wine.
"It is an extraordinary pity that Tol Winion joined the Purists, I fear that there will be quite a disruption in the production of Arbor wines soon," Arvedui said, his eyes dangerously cold as he poured the last of the Arbor Red into his cup.
"Why? What do you intend to do to the Arbor?" Kevan asked.
"The same thing I will do to all of the Purists," Arvedui answered with a glint in his eyes.
Despite their plans, the army did not in fact depart at dawn. A new council of war had been called due to a raven in the night bearing dark words on dark wings.
All of them had thought that no disaster could eclipse the loss of Lord Ondoher and his sons. They were wrong. For the raven bore news of fire and death.
"Lys has fallen. The Valyrians descended upon the city in the night. Countless numbers of our kinsmen burned in the flames. Many more have been abducted and enslaved by the Valyrians, carried off back to Valyria for no doubt nefarious purposes," Arvedui said, reporting the dark news to his lords.
The room rose in anger, calling for immediate retaliation against the Valyrians, yet the bad news were not over yet.
"Furthermore, the Stepstones have come under attack by the Valyrians as well. The entire Eastern Fleet has gone up in flames and the Valyrians are in the process of doing the same things to the Stepstones that they did in Lys. Without the expected reinforcements, Vinyambar has been pushed back as well and the Dornish are now at the city gates."
"Your Majesty, it is clear now that the Dornish conspired with the dragons to attack us! We cannot let this go unanswered!" Lord Darklyn exclaimed.
"Nor will it be Lord Darklyn, yet we are already in the midst of one war, we cannot afford to divert forces to start another."
"We would be starting nothing sire! Only retaliating for an unjust and unprovoked attack on our people!"
"The Valyrians have long envied our longevity and coveted control of the trades routes in the Stepstones. The only reason they even dared to attack is because of the disunity in Arnor, why not remove that entirely?" Lord Reyne asked.
"With the recent disaster in Tircarnë, it would be at least another two years before the Purists are defeated! At which point Valyria would have had time to entrench itself in the Stepstones and Lys. We would not even have Vinyambar by then!" Lord Darklyn countered.
"That is not what I am proposing. The Valyrians are just as much the Purists' enemies as they are ours. Why not arrange a truce until the Valyrians are driven back and cooperate in making the dragons pay?" Lord Reyne asked.
"There will be no truce," Arvedui said coldly.
"Your Majesty this is the most reasonable course of action!" Lord Reyne protested.
"I will not have peace with the men who betrayed their oaths and tried to usurp their rightful king. You trust these men not to stab us in the back when we go to fight the dragons? I think not. And regardless, how are we to tell our men that we will make peace with those who slaughtered their imprisoned comrades? How am I to face my wife and tell her that I would have peace with the usurper who killed her father and brothers!?" Arvedui demanded.
"There will be no peace until Argeleb's head is mounted on the walls of Annúminas and his sons hang from my gibbets for the crows to feast upon! And when we are done with the Purists, we will crush the Dornish and the Valyrians and all will be reminded of why we are to be feared!" Arvedui shouted as he drove a knife into the map at the location of Arcalen.
Author's Note: Good Arvedui, let the hate flow through you! Also the Arnorians are kinda crazy thinking they can fight Valyria during or even after a civil war but hey you can't fault them for being angry right?