Land of the King
Chapter 71: In the Eyes of Myr
Aragost had thought he had seen the worst war could do to a city in the smoking ruins of Morlond atop Isildur's Hill. He had been wrong. Nothing but an empty shell remained of Myr, a city that had been the pride and glory of Arnorian Essos.
Looking from his ship, Aragost doubted a single building remained standing. Only the black stone walls that surrounded the city remained truly intact, standing guard around the ruined city. Atop it's battlements, the flag of Arnor still flew defiantly, opposing the Valyrian invaders.
It was in many ways strikingly familiar to years back. Then too had he led an armada into a ruined city. But that ruined city had been Sarhoy, not Myr, and its dead inhabitants Rhoynar not Arnorian. Unbidden, the warnings Jaenara had issued time and time again came back to him. 'What fools we were', he thought to himself again, as the beaches of Myr came closer and closer.
The waves rolled against the hulls of their ships as they sailed upon the ocean towards the ruined city. Their masts were like a forest upon the sea and as the rising sun rose in the east, it revealed the full strength of their armada. The armament that would reclaim East Arnor, starting right here, right now, at Myr.
More than three years since the day the war began with Dagor Bragollach, they would return in force at long last, to the shores of Essos. Since the infamous Drowning of the Isles many months ago, much had been done to prepare for this day. The Valyrian Navy in the Narrow Sea had been finally destroyed in an unexpectedly easy victory at the Battle of Tarth.
With that final threat upon Arnorian soil removed, the infrastructure in Arnor had been repaired and new ships had been brought over from the west or built to replace the lost. In the north the Crown Prince sailed to liberate Braavos alongside the haphazard resistance Túrin had created, but it would be here in Myr that the army that would win the war would land.
"Dragons inbound!" the scouts reported.
"Shoot them down," he ordered back, his voice not even bothering to change inflections. It was by now an experience he was well accustomed too. And after all, who could truly fear the dragons when leading such an armada after crossing the Blackwater on skiffs and river galleys against the might of Valyria?
"Your Majesty!" he could hear his aid shout as the soldiers on the decks looked to the sky to see a stray dragon elegantly evading the Arnorian attacks as it aimed straight for the largest ship in the fleet, his flagship. Turning its nose down, the dragon dived down hard at Aragost's ship but soon found itself under a hailstorm of projectiles and water magic. Before the dragon could come within range, its wings were shredded with volleys of arrows and artillery before water magic dragged it into the sea, bellowing fire and fighting as it went down. It never even stood a chance.
Aragost had remained unfazed, nary even a flinch, remaining focused ahead on the ruins of Myr. In the back of his mind, he knew the Arnorian armada would never allow their King's flagship to come to any harm. And if the dragons still slipped through, well, Arnor wouldn't exactly mourn him. He wouldn't mourn himself at this point, not after what he had done.
Soon, the fleet had reached what had once been the harbor of Myr and the landing began in full. The landing itself was a quiet affair as the ships were forced to use the beaches instead of any docks. The Valyrians had long since destroyed those and any other port infrastructure. As he set foot on the sand, he felt the wind blow against the deserted beach, the sand picking up in the wind Only corpses and charred wood still remained, that and the occasional dragon carcass. Though even those were in decay, skin eaten away by time, and with most of the bones gone, he saw. No wonder, he thought, dragonbone was a valuable commodity no matter what.
Yet, other than that, the beach was deserted, he saw as more and more of the armada came ashore and began unloading the troops. Finally, however, all the way back between the smoking and ruined buildings he saw movement as a few men began running towards them.
"Boromir, take your detachment and head to the northern wall. The scouts report the Glaurung is approaching the gates. Drive it off!" Aragost ordered as they began assembling the army.
"Understood Your Majesty," Boromir bowed as he took his regiments and went north.
Turning to the regiment behind him, Aragost continued as Boromir went north, "The rest of you! With me to the eastern gate!"
The outermost wall of Myr had five gates, facing north, northeast, east, southeast, and south respectively. Valyria however had only two Glaurungs now after the Drowning and so had chosen to deploy them at the positions furthest from the sea.
They had hoped that their coming would have frightened off the Valyrians, but unfortunately that had been a fool's hope. The Valyrians were not going to simply let them reinforce the city without a fight. It was honestly an act of Eru that Myr had not already fallen. Two Glaurungs would have been enough to destroy almost any other fortress but the Myrish defenders had fought bitterly, using the sea to drown their hinterlands over and over to wash away the Valyrian encampments; the amount of saltwater they had saturated the fields with had likely poisoned them for years.
And after months of hard fighting, even the Glaurungs' Valyrian Steel armour was now in need of repairs and replacement as for all its strengths, Valyrian Steel was not indestructible. The armies of Arnor were prepared and ready to drive them back, many of them wearing their own unique armour, the usual plate and chainmail with leather made out of dragonhide glued to it, an added protection from the heat and flame. Arnor had had no shortage of dragon carcasses after they had driven off the invasion of Westeros, though not the whole force could have been armed in it.
As they rushed to the far side of the city from the harbor, Aragost and his men were watched by some of the soldiers, the wounded and the exhausted who had been relieved from the frontlines. Yet even here far from the frontlines, they remained under constant fear of dragonfire or aerial bombardment. They watched as Aragost and his troops urgently marched to the gates. There were few smiles on their faces, and no cheers. Only resignation, quiet gratitude, and even some hints of resentment.
As Aragost led at the head of the formation, he felt their eyes on him, judging him. What was he in their eyes? He was their King that was for sure, that title brought enough begrudging respect even with all that Aragost had done to sully it. But what did they think of him beyond that? Was he the ruthless mass-murderer who had drowned over a million Arnorians? Was he the person who abandoned them to the mercies of the Valyrians for so many years? Was he a hard man making hard decisions? Perhaps he was all of them in the eyes of Myr. Perhaps they did not even care. Aragost did not know the answers, and he would not ask for them. He had known the moment he had ordered the Drowning, that he would never have his people's love again.
Soon they had passed by the wounded and resting soldiers, and they had come to the frontlines, the outer walls of Myr. Thousands of artillery pieces and archers were deployed to fend off the dragons who were strafing the walls with dragonfire. As they rushed onto the battlements, they reinforced the exhausted defenders.
"What's the situation!?" he asked of the commanding officer as arrived.
The officer's hair was unkempt and messy and his teeth yellowed, dark shadows under his eyes. He bowed and saluted before answering, "Grim Your Majesty! The Valyrians are hitting us hard! We barely managed to hold before you arrived. The Glaurung is making things difficult.
"Understood. You're dismissed soldier, go get some rest. I'll handle this front for now."
"Sire!" the soldier saluted before leaving, looking extremely relieved to be able to get some desperately needed rest.
Aragost turned back to the siege and gave his orders, "Mount more trebuchets and catapults on the walls! Bring as much water here as possible! I need giants on and behind the walls, ready to shoot at all times!"
More men began piling onto the battlements, desperately loosing their arrows and artillery in a desperate attempt to drive off the rapidly approaching Glaurung.
"Loose!" and at his order a massive volley of boulders, bolts, and arrows was unleashed at the Glaurung. The more powerful bolts began piercing through the holes in the Glaurung's battered armor even as the blunt force of the boulders began bruising and breaking its bones. Enraged, the beast bellowed a great flame that saw the Arnorian garrison diving for cover under the parapets of their black walls. It did not save their siege weapons from going up in cinders however.
The Glaurung pressed further against the Arnorians at their moment of weakness, but the giants recovered quickly and sent their volley against its eyes, many coming close to a killing shot with how close the Glaurung was to the walls at this point.
Another round of flames bellowed at the walls from the glaurungs as the dragons from the sky dived down upon the Arnorian positions, further intensifying the pressure on the defenders. Aragost hurriedly rushed to take cover in the black stone tower, being careful not to touch the stone of the walls. Though they were indestructible, dragonfire could still heat up black stone walls enough to harm those who touched them and with the endless pyre of flames the dragons were bathing in, Aragost began thinking they might cook to death encased inside the walls.
Desperately writing down some orders and sealing them, Aragost shouted to the skinchangers, "Send word to the water mages! We need a flood here!"
The skinchangers nodded and their eyes rolled back as they took control of their bonded birds and picked up the written orders before heading for the harbor.
What seemed like an eternity later, the assault died down as the water level outside the black walls began to rise. Soon a massive flood poured in from the sea, rushing over the Valyrian lines as the water mages carefully guided the water into a defensive moat around Myr, taking care to ensure none of it entered the city itself. With water support, the tides had turned, almost literally, and the Arnorian defenders began unleashing a furious counterattack upon the dragons. Soon the riders cut their losses and ordered their mounts to withdraw while the Glaurung almost visibly recoiled from the water and hurriedly retreated.
"I want a thousand water mages and as many giants out there digging a moat for all that water. We can't keep flooding the countryside like this," Aragost ordered. While the water that could be stored in the moat itself might not be very useful against a full-scale dragon assault, Aragost still had very vivid memories of dragons boiling entire rivers in the Second War, the channel would make it much easier for the water mages to bring more water to the walls without having to continuously flood the fields around Myr and poison them further. The earth removed could be packed as ramparts against the black walls as further protection, and a stable source of water for the mages to heal with could be the difference between life and death for some injured soldiers. If nothing else, the ditch they dug could make it more difficult for the Glaurung to approach the walls again.
As work began on the moat, the Arnorian garrison began repositioning on the walls, artillery aimed at the sky at all times while archers stalked along the perimeter of the moat as the giants dug the moat. It was dangerous work as at any moment the Valyrians could return but if they did they'd get an ever bigger nosebleed then before with the water still at their disposal.
Feeling that he done all that he could at the walls, Aragost looked for some of the garrison soldiers and asked them to take him to the headquarters of the garrison. They were… weirdly dressed to put it lightly. They were unlike any other Arnorian soldiers he had seen yet. The winged helmets still identified them as soldiers of the Realm-in-Exile, yet even those were off in some way, the wings bent and broken and the helms dented from wear and tear. As he came closer, he saw that instead of their normal uniforms they seemed to be wearing weirdly coloured clothing all over the mail on their torso, arms and legs, with some on their helmets. Colours ranging from black and dark grey to vivid purples and blues, with an almost… scaly texture?
The soldiers were in no mood to bow to him when he arrived where they were resting and for the life of him Aragost could not bring himself to care. Court formalities had to be sacrificed in war and these men had fought off Valyria alone for almost three years, he could forgive them if their etiquette was rusty.
"Who's the most senior ranking among you?" he asked as he arrived, his guards beside him. Outside the walls they could hear the digging of the moat continuing.
"Arthed Lonell, quartermaster of the Myr garrison!" the man seated at the centre of the small group called out in response. Aragost recognised him as the commanding officer he had relieved earlier.
"You and your men don't look much like Arnorian soldiers anymore Quartermaster Lonell," Aragost said noticing the strange bows the men from the garrison had at their sides. "And those don't look like Arnorian bows, either," he observed.
Looking at Lonell closely, Aragost honestly thought he looked a mess, his skin was yellow, and his eyes dark. A thick unkempt and messy beard adorned his face, giving him a gruff look. The only thing remotely neat about the man was his bald head. At his words, the man gave a hollow smile.
"Steelbows are scarce nowadays, supplies weren't exactly easy to deliver to Myr before you arrived Sire, and they can't be easily repaired if they break. We've taken to making dragonbone bows to replace them. They're almost as good and much less fragile," the man said as he finally stood to greet him. As he got closer, he could see that the weird clothing definitely had scales all over it.
"And this," the man continued following his gaze and pointing at the garment. "Is dragonhide. Very useful against fire," he said, with that same hollow smile that failed to reach his eyes.
"How in Eru's name did you manage to cut through dragonhide with what you have here?" he asked astonished. It was after all one of the strongest and toughest materials that existed, and the only weapon they had that could properly pierce it most of the time were scorpions and windlances, both of which required immense force to do so. It had taken them months back in Arnor to figure out how to treat it, and tan it into leather which they could fit onto their army's armor, how had the Myrish garrison done it?
"Took us awhile to figure that out. Luckily, we captured some Valyrian steel from the pale cunts. It's mighty difficult, but you can hack your way through hide with it. We ain't got time for all that fancy leatherwork you lot came with so we just made do with some rudimentary stitches onto our clothes and chainmail. It gets the job done well enough," Arthed said.
"I see… Very well then. I need you to lead me to your headquarters Arthed." The man in question nodded and began to walk off, bidding Aragost to follow without another word spoken.
"How many such dragonhide garments do you have?" he asked as they reached the ruined buildings of the city proper, moving inwards from the walls. Arnor had made managed to make thousands out of the carcasses left behind after the invasion of the homeland, he was wondering how much the defenders had managed to get out of the dragons they killed with their much less efficient methods.
"Enough to outfit most of the men standing guard, though not much more. When not on the walls we have to hunker down in one of the shelters, lest the dragons burn us to bits," the man said with a cackle that unnerved Aragost. "They like that you see, especially at night, just random hits against random points. Go out for a piss at night, and you might just find yourself become dragon fodder."
After that, no more words were exchanged as they passed through the ruins that made up Myr. He could only count his blessings that he had ordered all the populace be evacuated as soon as the Rammas had fallen all those years ago. Yet even so, here and there a charred skeleton could be seen among the ruins. "How many did they fail to get out? How many did get out and burned in their evacuation ships?" he wondered.
As they entered deeper and deeper into the maze of ruined, blackened buildings, only occasionally seeing an artillery nest, Aragost completely lost any and all sense of bearing, as all the ruins seemed much the same to him. Even Morlond had not been destroyed. Looking around, he could see his guards looked just as confounded. However, their garrison comrades seemed to have no issues managing, and after many more twists and turns through the labyrinth they arrived at the first inhabited building they had seen yet.
It was, of course, half ruined, and while it was hard to tell, Aragost judged it used to be a manse. The top level had been burned to a crisp, he could see, in its place only a blackened platform remained, upon which Arnorian artillery was found. Next to them however, the flag of Arnor flew proudly, and on the lower levels, he could see clear signs of habitation. But even so, he quickly realized that all the windows were covered in more dragonhide, though a much lighter and thinner looking kind. 'Probably skin from the wings, can't stop arrows but I imagine it's good enough against fire,' he thought.
The main door was sealed up with bricks he saw, and only a smaller side door seemed to still be available, and it too was protected by a flap of dragonhide. Quietly they followed Arthed inside, and found a crammed and dark barracks. Following the quartermaster through it, they eventually reached a slightly larger war room, with a large table in the middle containing a massive map of the city.
"Your Majesty," the men inside quickly bowed as he entered. Looking at them through the light of the lamps that were burning they too looked much the same as quartermaster, the same sickly and tired look.
"Officers," he replied in exchange. "Have there been any updates on the situation?" he asked. When he had departed Westeros with the armada things had been in much the same gridlock as they had been for the last three years, with the notable exception that it seemed the Valyrians were mobilizing more and more troops on Myr.
"Yes Sire. No doubt knowing of your arrival, the Valyrians have mounted their strongest attempts of taking the walls this year, we barely managed to repel them. Just yesterday we thought the city was going to fall. If you had arrived just a week later, it may have been to a Glaurung on the beach."
"I heard you had to resort to drowning the countryside to drive them off."
"Aye. The fields around Myr have already been poisoned, and the grass won't grow back anymore, but we held them off long enough for you to relieve us," the officer said. Aragost felt his admiration of the brave defenders of Myr grow further. For three years they had fought alone against near the full might of Valyria in Essos; Arnor's last bastion on the continent. As he thought about it, he saw Boromir also entering the room.
"Ah, Boromir, I am glad to see you. How did the defense of the north go?" he asked his Steward and second-in-command.
"Much the same as yours at the east gate. We took heavy casualties trying to keep the Glaurung at bay but when the water mages brought in the flood, the Valyrians finally pulled back," Boromir answered.
"Half a million men, and yet we are bleeding like a waterfall. See to it that more reinforcements, supplies, weapons, anything that can contribute to the war effort are brought to Myr from Tyrosh and Raumdor as soon as possible. If we're to stand a chance to break out against two Glaurungs, we might need to overcome them with sheer numbers."
Boromir nodded. Aragost turned to address the other officers, "Now that their attempt to take the city before our reinforcements became entrenched has failed, the Valyrians would have to be utter fools to keep attacking Myr correct?" The officers all nodded in reply.
"Yet we obviously can't fight them in the open without flooding everything and preventing our own men from advancing," he muttered to himself. That dilemma would no doubt be the core issue of the upcoming campaign. Without copious amounts of water, they had no hope against the Glaurungs, but to do that they'd have to flood the plains, which meant no way to push forward and break out of Myr.
"Any word from Braavos?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Yes," Boromir said. "I just got news as we were heading here that the assassination plot was successful. The resistance led by Prince Túrin and Princess Jaenara successfully seized control of the city and Prince Aravorn soon sailed in to secure the city. All dragonlords were killed and their dragons were either slain or driven off. They might go back to Valyria or fly wild, but regardless, they're no longer a threat to Braavos."
"Good. With any luck, the Valyrians will be forced to pull back men and dragons from Myr to defend Andalos. If Pentos falls, we would have yet another foothold on the continent. One of the Glaurungs might be moved north as well. Same as Myr, more men and supplies are needed to land in Braavos, perhaps the forces of the North and the Vale could help secure the territory and provide the numbers needed," Aragost mused before he noticed that his Steward was not listening and seemed to be troubled.
"More to say Lord Boromir?" he queried.
"The report also stated that one dragon was successfully captured by resistance forces during the insurrection."
"And?" Aragost interrupted, wanting him to get to his point quicker and wondering why this wasn't mentioned earlier.
"Prince Aravorn gave custody to the dragon to Princess Jaenara to see if she could bond to it and ride it like she did with Terrax in the First War. For whatever reason, perhaps the previous bond and traumatic memories interfering, she failed. Princess Jaenara ordered the dragon set free and it was last seen flying north over the Shivering Sea."
Aragost's mind was racing. Jaenara had the opportunity to claim another dragon, but when she failed, she had decided to set the dragon free rather than give it to her daughter or grandchildren? Why? And then the thought struck him.
Fear.
When Jaenara had defected all those years ago. She had ended up being placed on the front lines and was a huge aid in helping Arnor defeat Valyria. The experience had ended with her dragon dying and she almost following suit. No doubt Jaenara feared the same would happen to Nimloth or her children if they ended up riding a dragon.
Aragost put his head in his palms. What did his goodsister think of him? His son and brother as well, if they thought he would do such a thing and allowed Jaenara to do it? Yet as the man who had drowned a million of his own people, such was the reputation Aragost had earned and he would simply have to deal with it. The next time he saw any of the three of them in person, he would clear up the air, make it clear he would never have done anything like that.
'Am I really sure about that?' a treacherous part of his mind asked. Even now he was thinking on the lost possibilities and chances a dragon could have brought to Arnor, and also the disadvantages.
"Your Majesty?" Boromir asked, concerned.
Aragost shook his head. The matter was done and irreversible. He only hoped it hadn't cost them the advantage they needed to win the war.
"It matters not. Jaenara had custody of the dragon. When next I speak with my goodsister, I would have words with her. Until then there is no use crying over spilt milk."
He had many more pressing things to worry about.
A few days later, Aragost and Boromir were once again having a private conversation, this time at a table in what had become the King's quarters. Not that it was any different from the rest of the accommodations. It was just as dark and cramped as everything else.
"The Valyrians have pulled back. With our reinforcements filling the battlements to the brim, they've decided to switch to the defensive. Our scouts have reported the Valyrians building fortified encampments far inland and establishing a perimeter around Myr," Boromir said, summarizing the contents of the scout reports.
"The siege may be over, but the Valyrians still have us pinned here," Aragost noted.
"Indeed. In the north, Prince Aravorn and Prince Túrin are making headway. All attempts at claiming Lorath have failed thus far but their armies have pushed far south into Andalos already. They've established a line on the Velvet Hills but it seems all attempts to move into the Flatlands have not gone well and the ruins of Ghoyan Drohe are heavily contested with Valyrians coming up the Rhoyne."
"There is no way the Valyrians will allow us to reclaim Pentos, or cut their lines at the Rhoyne. What are the dragons doing?"
"Preliminary searches by both scouts and palantiri suggest more dragons are being deployed from Valyria but they've been hit hard by their losses. They lost the cream of their army at Morlond, and in the Drowning. They will be far more cautious with their dragons now."
"As if they weren't already," Aravorn snorted, "And the Glaurungs?"
"Your prediction came true. We know for sure now that one Glaurung has left the vicinity of Myr. There's really only one other place it could be going."
Aravorn looked at the map on the table and the reports, bringing his right hand to stroke his chin as he examined them.
"The Valyrians are desperate. They know that with their failure in Westeros, the momentum of the war has turned against them. Now they are desperately trying to hold onto their gains in Essos. They seem to think a Glaurung in the Velvet Hills and a Glaurung here would be enough to stop us forever," he mused.
Send word to the Northern Front. Tell them to fortify the Velvet Hills and maintain pressure on the Flatlands, threaten Pentos and the Rhoyne as much as possible. The more Valyrian forces they keep tied up there, the better. When conditions are favorable, we could try landing forces in Tálnandor and maybe even think about reconquering Lys, it will allow us to outflank the Valyrian encirclement of Myr and break out into East Arnor."
"So long as the Glaurung is at bay, I fear we will not be able to break out of Myr," Boromir countered.
"That may no longer be the case. As powerful as the Glaurung is, it cannot fly, and it is relatively slow in comparison to a traditional dragon. The Valyrians cannot easily move them around to respond rapidly to our attacks. We know for sure now that one Glaurung has been sent north and with Pentos and the Rhoyne under threat I think the Valyrians cannot afford to cancel that order. If we land forces in Tálnandor and sally forth from Myr simultaneously, the Valyrians will be forced to choose between either force and we can break out into Essos and start interfering with their logistics."
Boromir looked carefully at the map, "It could work."
"It has to, and it will, with you commanding the force in Tálnandor." Aragost said, determined and believing.
Boromir looked up in surprise, "Me, Your Majesty?"
"I can think of no one else than the Defender of Morlond to entrust with this task Boromir. You're a proven and capable commander. More than that, you've long since proven to me that you have the will, the ruthlessness, needed for the task at hand."
King and Steward locked eyes. They both knew what Aragost was referring to. Boromir had advised the King to carry out the Drowning. If he could do that, he was capable of sacrificing the men necessary to fulfill his task.
"Very well. I accept Your Majesty."
"Excellent," Aragost said smiling though it was a fake smile. He hadn't honestly smiled since before the war.
"Before I leave to see to the preparations, there is an important matter that I believe has to be discussed."
At the king's nodded urging, Boromir continued, "A worrying trend has been noted among the giant soldiers and their losses. For the percentage of the army they make up, they have a very disproportionately high casualty rate."
Aragost sighed, "Yes, that is not unexpected. Giants are very high-priority targets for the Valyrians and they're easy to single out on the battlefield. Word has already been sent home that every adult male giant is to be trained and equipped for war."
"I fear that will not be enough Sire. We're losing giants faster than we can replace them in some battles and their presence on the frontlines is vital. They are an important asset we cannot do without. I fear our advance may collapse without giants. I think that we should begin thinking about the possibility that the entire adult giant population, not just the males, would have to be mobilized."
Aragost frowned, "That would be a very controversial decision, the ramifications of the Drowning are still being felt."
"And yet just like the Drowning, it may prove to be necessary Sire. It is not without precedent. Already, thousands of women serve on the frontlines as water witches. They are the majority in the Water Mage Corps."
"Hmm. Very well, I concur, but only to an extent. They will fill in the roles the male giants currently have in the home front, manual labour and the like, to open up more males for the frontlines. As a precaution, they can also begin training for war. Yet I am loath to draft females to war, be they women or giants, without need."
"And should the need arise?" the Steward questioned.
Aragost clenched his fists and hardened his heart. It seemed that he was now in the business of making the hard decisions no one else could.
"If and when that time comes. I will decide."
