Land of the King
Chapter 27: The Enemy at the Gates
His Grace, King Lymond of the Houses Redwyne and Hightower, King of the Arbor and the Hightower, Lord of Oldtown and Redwyne wondered how it had all come to this.
Ever since he had been a boy, he had been told that he would one day rule Oldtown and the Arbor. The combined might of Houses Redwyne and Hightower would be his to command.
Much had been done to ensure he would inherit both kingdoms. His grandfathers had altered succession laws and crushed rebellions, all to make him their joint heir.
They had placed their hopes on him, hoping that the combined might of the two kingdoms would be enough to deter the enemy. They had been such fools. The only thing the joining of the kingdoms had done was make them an even more alluring target.
From the High Tower, all the city was in his gaze. He could see the Citadel on the far side of the Honeywine. He could see the markets and streets, once full of life and joy, now wholly deserted in fear.
The enemy was at the gates. And soon they would be in the streets of Oldtown.
A sea of silver waited beyond the walls. Their swords were sharp, thirsting for the blood of his people.
It was only a matter of time now, he had come. Celepharn of Arnor was at his gates, besieging his city. His navy had crushed the Redwyne Fleet in the Straits and even now, word had come that the Arbor was surrounded by the Arnorian Navy.
There would be no respite from the invasion. He almost felt like laughing, they hadn't stood a chance. His soldiers had put a brave fight, but there was no stopping the horde of the Arnorian army when it descended upon his kingdom.
Many of his lords, traitorous cowards that they were had turned their cloak and surrendered to Celepharn. Lymond took a spiteful joy knowing that they had not been allowed to keep their lands as they had hoped.
Lymond knew now that even had the odds been to his favour, Celepharn would still have emerged victorious over him. In all the ill-fated battles Lymond had fought with his foe in a vain attempt to halt his advance to the city, Celepharn had always been possessing of an unnatural and uncanny wit and skill, one honed from centuries of experience.
The Last King of the High Tower refused to believe that any being with Celepharn's skill and ability could be truly human but then that was the point was it not? The people of Arnor lived for centuries like no other men, if they were not like other men, could they truly be men at all? Or were they something different, something superior and far beyond anything lesser beings like him could hope to aspire to reach?
Lymond's sons were at the gates now, still desperately coordinating the last defense of the city, yet the king himself saw no need for it.
There was no hope for victory now, not when the Arnorian Navy blockaded the Whispering Sound, not when the armies of Celepharn surrounded their walls on the north, the east, and the west.
Lymond was content to stand on the balcony, watching as his family's legacy burned to the ground. He had a wineskin of some of the finest Arbor Red in his collection and carefully poured some into his chalice. Somehow, despite knowing that his kingdom's fall was imminent and possibly the deaths of himself and his entire family with it, Lymond was calm and relaxed. The burden of rulership would be permanently lifted from his shoulders today, one way or another.
With all the dignity and regal grace of a monarch, Lymond sipped from his chalice as he watched the armies beyond the walls prepare for their final assault.
The light of the rising sun illuminated the city's every street, its rays reflecting off the cobbled tiles. The work of his entire dynasty and Lymond had failed to defend it from the vagabond that had come to steal her away.
Lymond knew the end had come when the birds began flocking away from their perches on the roofs in droves.
So it begins.
All at once, a hundred flaming balls of rock and fire came flying over the walls, propelled by giants that were almost out of legend.
The screaming began then. Men, women and children, all fled before the fires that began to consume their homes.
Lymond did not know how he heard it, perhaps it was a trick of the mind, yet in the distance he could hear it, a rhythm like a beat. The sounds of the Arnorian giants pounding on the city gates.
And so Lymond watched, watched as the giants broke down the gates, watched as the Arnorian army flooded into his city, watched as they cut down all who opposed them and looted and sacked his city. He watched and he waited.
When at last, the enemy was at the gates of the High Tower itself upon Battle Isle, Lymond's wait was over.
He was defeated by Celepharn, his city and wealth was all his now. But Lymond refused to yield his freedom and dignity to this conquering warlord from the north. Lymond was born to be the king of two kingdoms, and king he would be until his very last moment.
And so Lymond of the Houses Redwyne and Hightower climbed upon the balcony of his chambers in the High Tower, and in full view of the invading Arnorian army, he leapt to his death in the whispering waters below.
The armies of Arnor were more disciplined than any in the world. Yet even then it would require a commander with incredible force of will and power to keep them restrained in the face of an opportunity to sack a rich city.
Celepharn was one such man. The army fell in line swiftly after Celepharn had personally executed a few hundred looters who had disobeyed his express orders to leave the city intact.
Having disciplined his army, Celepharn put them to work policing the streets and putting out the fires. The city would be reconstructed with Arnorian engineering eventually, but Celepharn did not wish to needlessly destroy the homes of the city's inhabitants.
He especially did not want any damage to come to the Citadel, a great repository of knowledge older even than Annúminas and large enough to rival the Royal Library of Arantar the Scholar. It would be an especial shame, should any harm befall such a priceless collection of knowledge.
Celepharn had left the capture of the last holdout in the city, the famed High Tower on Battle Isle, to his chief commander, Lord Ramir Reyne, while he himself personally oversaw the pacification of the populace.
A conqueror though he was, Celepharn was not merciless, and he ordered his army to see to the needs of the populace.
When hours had passed after the fall of the city, Celepharn felt the situation stable enough for him to take a trip to the Citadel itself.
He walked right up to the front door of the Citadel and invited himself in. Inside the terrified maesters were scared to see him entering, especially as he came with a contingent of fully armed guards.
"Well? Do the Maesters of the Citadel not know how to greet honoured guests at their reputable establishment?"
One of the maesters overcame his fear and stepped forward.
"Forgive us, Your Gra-"
"Majesty, the proper way to address the King of Arnor is 'Your Majesty', not 'Your Grace' like your former king but forgive me for the interruption, Maester?" Celepharn's tone became questioning.
"Kevan, Your Gra- I mean Your Majesty. Maester Kevan. Forgive us for the late welcome, it has been a stressful day for all of us. Welcome to the Citadel, may I inquire as to your purpose here?"
"You are forgiven Maester, I was hoping to find…."
Celepharn asked Maester Kevan various questions concerning various topics and particular volumes he was hoping to find and later followed the Maester to retrieve those volumes.
Celepharn was a well-read man, he had to be to accomplish all the things he had done in life.
Education was very important. It was a tradition from Old Númenor that most everyone in Arnor, even the commoners, were literate. It was perhaps one of the many reasons why their people were so much more advanced than the primitive lesser men that neighboured them.
Celepharn's perusal of the tomes of the Citadel was later interrupted by the arrival of Lord Reyne.
"Ahh Lord Reyne, excellent. The High Tower has fallen?" Celepharn queried, his eyes not leaving the page he was avidly reading.
"Yes, Your Majesty. The last resistance in the city has fallen. Word has also come from the Arbor. Prince Celebrindor has seized the port but Castle Redwyne remains defiant. A cousin of King Lymond has declared himself King of the Arbor and holed himself up in the castle," Lord Reyne reported.
"It matters not. This self-proclaimed king will not last long when the island itself is under our control. What of our resident King of the High Tower?" Celepharn asked, his eyes still not leaving the book.
Lord Reyne hesitated, "He is dead Your Majesty. He threw himself off the High Tower into the Whispering Sound. We still have not found his body."
Celepharn appeared unfazed. "Ohh? That is disappointing. It matters not though. Round up those of his family who survived. I will pass my judgement on them."
It was only after Lord Reyne left to carry out his orders that Celepharn put down the book to think.
The death of King Lymond was disappointing. Celepharn had hoped to capture him alive to formally extract his surrender and yield of Oldtown to him. It would help legitimize his rule of the city somewhat but alas, Lymond had chosen death before disgrace. As a king himself, Celepharn could not begrudge him that.
That evening, Celepharn looked over the Hightowers on their knees before him. As per his orders, Lord Reyne had brought every living relative of the late King Lymond before him.
As he looked upon the wife, sons, daughters and other kin of Lymond, Celepharn steeled his resolve. It was distasteful but necessary to secure his rule of Oldtown.
"I am not without mercy. The women amongst you will be allowed to live as hostages in the city for the rest of your days, but the sons, the men, you have a choice between the black and the block."
Turning to Lymond's eldest son, Armond, Celepharn asked him what his choice was.
"You, what is your choice?"
The man in question spit on the ground.
Celepharn was not amused. "Charming. I suppose your choice is clear."
Gesturing to his guards to restrain the man on the chopping block, Celepharn drew Narsil from its sheath.
Running his hand gently along the flat face of the blade, Celepharn slowly placed it on the exposed neck of King Lymond's eldest son.
His voice was cold and harsh. "Thou has chosen to reject the mercy of the King of Arnor, mercy that will not be offered again."
Defiant to the end, Lymond's son choked out, "I am Armond, eldest son of Lymond! Rightful King of the Arbor and the High Tower and like my father before me I will-"
Whatever else Armond Redwyne-Hightower had wished to say, they would never know for in that moment, Narsil had cut cleanly through his neck, severing his head from his body.
Armond's mothers and sisters screamed then. Their sobs echoing through the corridors of the High Tower. His brothers stared at Celepharn with unadulterated hatred.
Staring directly at the younger brothers of the now departed Armond, Celepharn calmly asked if they wished to join their brother and father in death.
"Do you wish to make your mother watch the death or more of her sons? Or will you accept the gracious mercy I am offering to you?"
The younger sons of Lymond chose to take the Black then, with ashes in their mouth.
And so on it went, Celepharn gave the same offer to every male relative of the late King Lymond. Most chose to join the Night's Watch but a few brave defiant souls chose death like their cousin, Prince Armond. Narsil's blade would kiss quite a few stubborn necks more that evening.
Until at long last, Celepharn had reached the end of the line. Before him stood the last male relative of King Lymond that was not either dead or sentenced to a lifetime at the Wall.
For the life of him however, Celepharn could not tell what his direct relation to the former king was. A cousin of some sorts perhaps but it mattered not. All that mattered was that he bore 'Hightower' as his surname.
Celepharn was thus quite amused when the cowering Hightower slyly offered to help ease the transition of Oldtown from Hightower to Arnorian rule, earning betrayed and outraged stares from his kinsmen.
Thoughtful, Celepharn judged the advantages and disadvantages to keeping this particular Hightower alive. He had hoped to make his son Celeborn the Lord of the City and his rule would be far more secure if a loyal Hightower helped ease the transition. Yet such an arrangement also opened dangerous possibilities of uprising in the future.
"I should kill you for your impertinence but you are rather cunning. Perhaps I shall find some use for you," Celepharn said before ordering his guards to release the man from his restraints, his decision made.
"Thank you Your Majesty! I promise-"
"Do not feel so overjoyed yet. Your life is forfeit to me if you fail to deliver what you have promised," Celepharn warned, wiping the relieved smile from the man's face.
"Of course, Your Majesty," he said, deferential and humble, or at the very least pretending to be.
"If you are to serve me, I would know your name."
The man looked up at his new king, "Leyton, Your Majesty. Leyton Hightower."
A week later, Leyton convinced Celepharn to address the people of Oldtown, to reassure them of their place in the Kingdom of Arnor.
And so Celepharn stood atop a raised dais in one of the largest courtyards in the city, a great crowd brought in to hear his words. Usually intended for fairs and other events, the courtyard had been repurposed by the Arnorians for the King's speech.
"Many of you do not know who I am, but some of you may suspect. My fair people of Oldtown, I am King Celepharn of Arnor, and from this day forth I am to be your new ruler.
Many will question my right to rule you, but that is not what matters. What matters is the place that you will have in the new realm we shall build! Work together with me, with Arnor, and all the riches of the world shall be ours to reap!"
One of the braver men in the crowd spoke up.
"You are the one who attacked our city, how are we to know that you honour a word you say to us?"
"Ask yourself then my good sir, who was it that commanded the armies to put out the flames? Who was it who oversaw the distribution of aid and food to the people?" Celepharn retorted.
Leyton was not a man well known to most people as a relative of King Lymond and so easily blended into the crowd.
With a clear Oldtown accent, he spoke over the murmurs of the wary crowd.
"It is true! My brothers and sisters, King Celepharn is a good man, just and merciful. Many have spoken to me of how the Arnorian army ceased its sack of our beloved city on his orders! He executed the rapists and looters himself! All those I know speak of the kindness of our new king, he commanded that the supplies of his own army be shared with us and ordered his own soldiers to put down their swords and put out the fires and give food and medicine! Surely we can trust such a king over Lymond? A stubborn and prideful man who refused to surrender!
The arrogant old king would not even face judgement and ended his own life! Why must we persist in our loyalty to him?"
Leyton was truly blessed with a silver tongue. With every word the people became more and more convinced of Celepharn's benevolence. Leyton's efforts were further aided when Celepharn ordered his soldiers to distribute food and medicine to the hungry people right there in the courtyard.
"Do you believe me now people of Oldtown?" Celepharn asked. "When I give these gifts, I see not my conquered enemies, no I see my subjects, my people, and I will always love and protect my people!"
Leyton then cried out, "Long Live King Celepharn!"
And the crowds followed, "Long Live King Celepharn!"
Celepharn knew that it was unlikely the people truly meant what they were saying now. It was all to appease and flatter him so that he would give them more food. Yet it was a start, Leyton had delivered on his promises.
"In recognition of its new place in our great kingdom, this city will no longer bear the name the Hightowers gave it! No it will have a new name! A proud, Arnorian name! From this day forth, this city will be known ever after as Hyarmenna!"
The people of course would not know what that word meant but they cheered nonetheless.
"How fickle lesser men are," Celepharn thought.
Author's Note: And that's another chapter done! As demonstrated by KL in canon, non Arnorian smallfolk are not always the most loyal to their lords so long as the new ones are not overly cruel and make sure they get fed.
So with some propaganda and promises, Celepharn could easily start work in winning them over. (I mean heck the canon KL smallfolk loved Joffrey of all people at first!)
Before the nitpickers start, yes I know the Annals say that there was no sack and that was kinda true. Celepharn prevented the escalation of the looting into a full sack but for propaganda and ya know victors writing history, the Annals made it seem like Celepharn and his army were complete angels who did no looting whatsoever.
The Annals also mention that King Lymond was captured with his family rather than commiting suicide. This is most likely a mistake by Arnorian historians or an intentional mistelling for whatever propaganda-fueled reason.
Remember that the Annals are an in-universe historical text and not all histories are accurate or tell the full picture. Unreliable narrators and victors writing history make sure of that. (I totally did not change things and was definitely not too lazy to edit the Annals)
