Chapter 40; The deep breath before the plunge
Characters of the chapter
Alexander de Rozien, Chevalier of Orlais, Marshal of the Grand Army of Orlais, Supreme commander of the Orlesian invasion of Westeros
Andharr Kronos Lord of the Upstart House Kronos
Deniel Fabre, Master Engineer of the Orlesian military, head of the field engineering corps assigned to the Grand Army of Orlais
Edmond Brahms, Knight of Nevarra, Military advisor to the court of King Jon
Gilbert Gagnon, Spymaster for Marshal Alexander de Rozien, liaison on behalf of Marquis Briala
Hannah of Starkhaven, Ambassador on behalf of the College of Magi
Jon Snow, also known as Aegon Targaryen and Jon Stark, King of the North Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms
Malcom, Soldier in the northern army
Michel de Chevin, Chevalier of Orlais
Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell and the Eyrie, Wardeness of the North
Ynessa des Montagnes, Chevalier of Orlais, Duelling Champion to de Rozien, Chosen Sword of Orlais
Curved/ bold text is in Orlesian
"Well, it seems the King has not changed his mind about surrendering. Unfortunate. I suppose we will have to do this the hard way." De Rozien said. Dawn was a few hours away, and the Marshal had called his staff together to go over the battle plan and receive their final orders.
"Before we begin I'd like to offer my condolences to you Lord Kronos, for the loss of your son." The Marshal said.
"Save it. You didn't know him. His loss was just a strategic consideration to you. No point in pretending otherwise." Lord Kronos said sourly.
There was a brief silence, the others in the command tent uncertain how to respond to Lord Kronos's mood.
"…If I offended I apologize. I was merely being polite. I can understand he mattered to you and I didn't mean for him to get killed." Alexander said.
Andharr sighed, bowing his head. "I know. Perhaps I spoke too bluntly. Forgive me. His loss still weighs heavily on me. We had our difficulties, him and I, and obviously he was too stubborn for his own good. But I had grown to be proud of the man he became. He still had his whole life ahead of him. It's not right that he died."
He sighed again. "I do appreciate your words in the spirit they were given, but no amount of sympathy will bring him back. All anyone can do for him is to give him justice.
"The rest of my family has arrived safely at least?" He asked then.
"They have My Lord. They are the personal guests of His Majesty the Emperor. The surviving members of other New Houses have also reached him or are passing through the Corridor, well on their way and safe from any retaliation." Gagnon said where he was standing.
"Good. Good. Then I will not need to worry for the rest of my family as I seek to win this war and avenge my son." He said. "In which capacity will my forces be needed?"
"For the time being you are to be in reserve. Your forces have done their part as we had agreed upon and now we will do ours. Should there be unexpected need you will be called upon. But make your presence known while you are here. Hopefully your presence joined with ours will intimidate the enemy that much more." De Rozien said.
Lord Kronos snorted "Well if they're not intimidated already I don't see how the few thousand I have with me are going to change that. I'm surprised you asked my forces to be here if this is how little use you intend to make of them. Why not have my forces stay at Moat Cailin?"
"You could not have all been fitted inside that castle, which is the only space safe from the dragon. No reason to provide an easy target to the Queen and that fire breathing monster of hers. Major General Robespierre can keep control of the situation at Moat Cailin. Furthermore, I do have a use in mind for your forces. Once Winterfell is taken I intend to turn it over to your forces. That is why I asked you to be here now. I do not expect conquering that castle to take very long, and afterwards I wish you to take possession immediately. You will hold on to the castle and oversee to our occupation of the north while we move our main host on to other targets. Perform well in that role and the Emperor will give your family a permanent governorship in addition to recognizing you as a lord, as per your agreement with him." The Marshal explained.
"I see…" Lord Kronos said, nodding.
"Of course, if you'd rather take a more active role in the siege…" De Rozien offered.
"I might. But as you said, my lads have done their part. They deserve a rest. I don't need to claim my vengeance with my own hands, so long as I get it." Andharr said.
"Very well then." The Marshal said, then moved on with the briefing.
"Enchanter Hannah, I want you and your mages to begin this battle for us. Hit the enemy defenders with everything you have, but make sure to only use spells that will not damage the castle itself. I want Winterfell captured, not destroyed." He said.
Hannah nodded. "I'll make sure my people are aware of those orders."
"Am I to retain control of the circle mages as well?" She asked.
"Yes, since messere Chaput remains at Moat Cailin." The Marshal replied.
"I'm sure he will be delighted that I will continue to have command over his people" She said sarcastically.
"With some fortune this will be enough to clear the castle. Should anything remain of the defenders after the mage attacks, we will send in the first wave to finish the job." He said, paying no mind to the mage.
"Master Engineer, have you been successful in providing my troops with the necessary siege equipment?" He asked.
"Yes ser, for the most part. Ladders, and planks that should assist us in getting over the trench our enemies have dug in front of their castle, pavises to protect them from incoming attacks, all that. I also having teams ready to begin moving earth and rocks to fill the trench at key points so heavier equipment can be brought over. On that note, the… ram could use a little more work though. I hope you understand, the time given was so short… We have been working on it nonstop since we got here, and the main part of the ram has been completed, but the roof still needs more time to be finished." Deniel said.
"Veery well." The Marshal said in dryly, somewhat disapproving that everything was not yet ready, but also understanding that the Master Engineer and his crew were doing the best they could. "I'll give you until evening. Hopefully it won't be needed in the meantime. If it isn't finished by the time it is required it will simply have to be deployed in the state it is at. I want your people working on it every minute from now on, so if we need it, it will be as ready as possible."
"Understood ser. And thank you." Deniel said.
"Should our assault specialists be deployed with the first wave?" He asked then.
"Not directly with them. The way you have described them to me makes me think that it might be unwise to deploy them alongside regular troops. But when the first wave attacks, move some of your specialists around the castle during the commotion, perhaps along the trench so they aren't seen. They are to attack from the far side of the castle. Their specialized equipment and the enemy's focus against the first wave should give them a decent chance of breaking through. If they then conduct themselves with care they can help reduce casualties." De Rozien said.
"I must stress the *conduct themselves with care* part. I want no friendly troops lost to them, so tell them to be careful." He added.
"I'll tell them. But you need not be worried My Lord. My people are professionals." Deniel said.
"I'm sure they are, but theirs is a dangerous, indiscriminate weapon, one that has not been tested in battlefield conditions. And with our other troops so close the risk is very real." Alexander said.
Deniel nodded his understanding.
"All this talk of deploying specialist troops seems rather unnecessary. We mages will decimate the enemy garrison. Even if some of them somehow survive, the first wave should have no trouble rolling straight over the enemy. Should we not continue to conceal their existence, conserve them for a more challenging battle, where their talents could tip the balance?" Hannah suggested.
"The upcoming battle may indeed proceed as you have outlined." Alexander said. "If it does I will be glad of it. But a good commander plans for every eventuality. If it comes to it these specialist could prove very valuable. We are going to have to reveal them sooner or later. Might as well do so now."
"Gagnon, word from the other battlefields?" He asked next.
"As I reported earlier, the Dragon Queen and her army continue to try get past Moat Cailin, so far without success on their part. The dragon continues to remain with the army, which is a good thing for us. The Nahashin marsh troops continue to make hit and run attacks against the Queens forces, with special focus on cutting enemy supply lines. Other than that, no significant developments have been reported on that front. Meanwhile admiral Baudin has brought the fleet to attack white harbor. As predicted the remaining enemy ships there were successfully destroyed. But the city itself has managed to throw back our assault. The admiral intends to attack again soon. Meanwhile the city is being subjected to intense bombardment, and sea access to the city has been cut off." The spymaster detailed.
"I do hope the follow up attacks succeed. That city is needed, and I'd rather not go through the trouble of bringing my army there. But very well." The Marshal said, then turned to his officers.
"Now then, each of you have received initial orders for your units. As for the specifics…"
"My Lord." Ynessa said, stepping out of the crowd and standing in front of the Marshal. "In the absence of other orders I have a request. I wish to fight with the first wave." She said.
De Rozien's mood visibly darkened. "That request is denied, Ynessa."
She blinked. This was unexpected. She had thought to receive a warm acceptance of her request, her skill welcomed at the frontlines as before.
"Oh. Then… is there some other role you wish me in during the..?" She began to ask.
"You have no role in the siege. You are not participating in the battle." He said.
Now she was utterly confused. "What? Why on earth not? What are you…?"
"That is the price you pay for your actions." The Marshal said coolly. "I had commanded you not to pursue the King. You disobeyed that command. Did you imagine I had forgotten that?"
First Ynessa was shocked, then turned annoyed. "You ordered other forces to pursue enemy…" She protested.
"I did. And had you pursued the enemy on my orders all would have been well. I would have even dismissed the ambush you fell in as an unfortunate incident that could not have been foreseen. But instead you deliberately went against my very specific orders and got a thousand of my soldiers, that didn't need to die, killed. All on the altar of your own vanity." He said, his voice having turned to outright icy.
"You think that you can do whatever you wish without any kind of consequences. It's high time you learned otherwise. You need to be brought back to earth, and so I will deny you what you are after to teach you a lesson. You will not engage the King in any way and you will not serve in any capacity in this siege." He said.
Ynessa was horrified. "No… don't do that to me! You can't!"
"I can and I am. Or have you forgotten who I am?" The Marshal said. "You will sit this one out and that is final. You are dismissed."
By now she was shaking with rage. Bad enough that he had done this to her, but he had done so publically, in front of all the officers. She clenched her fists, then with a snarl turned and strode from the tent.
It was Gagnon that finally broke the uneasy silence that lingered in her wake: "My Lord, something I forgot to mention… I have located us a specialist that can give us alternative means to deal with the dragon. He and suitable equipment for the army's use is on its way, though it will take some time to arrive."
"Good, good. You can give me further details about that in private." De Rozien said. "Now, as to the orders I was giving out…"
Ynessa walked through the Orlesian camp, fuming all the while. So angered was she that she didn't even check with the guard at the edge of the camp. Fortunately the guard recognized her and let her go without comment. She left the camp behind, advancing into the darkness until she reached the woods near Winterfell. One there she shouted in anger and slashed the nearest tree with the Sunblade. The enchanted blade easily cut through the trunk of the tree, and it fell over in a crash. She stepped out of the way and struck another. She continued rampaging through the forest, cutting up any tree she came across, shouting all the while, pouring her rage out of her.
"It is undignified to use the Sunblade to cut lumber, though I'm sure the raw materials will be appreciated." Michel's voice suddenly quipped after she had kept that up for a while. She paused in her assault against the trees, turned and saw him standing in the clearing she had made. She bowed her head, continuing to clench her sword.
"He… he denied me. After everything I've done for him, after all the blood I've spilled, he denied me! How dare he, Michel? How dare he!?" She snarled.
For a brief moment Michel seemed flabbergasted. "How dare he? Ynessa, don't you get it? I warned you not to cross him. And then you went and did the exact opposite of what I told you. Consequences were inevitable after that. You ought to be grateful that was all that he did, considering your actions. You should be on your knees thanking him for his mercy." Michel countered.
"Mercy? What? You're taking his side in this?" She said with disbelief.
"I'm not. But I don't think you appreciate the reality of this situation. Stop acting like a spoiled brat for a second and think! You got a thousand of soldiers, Chevaliers, under your command killed on a rogue mission that was in a direct violation of your own orders. If de Rozien didn't consider you such a valuable asset and if you weren't so popular with the troops you would already been hanged for doing that." He said sharply.
Ynessa went quiet at that, her anger gradually subsiding. Somehow the consequences of her actions had not pierced her consciousness before this moment. She had been so consumed in getting to her target she had ignored all else. But slowly Michel's words were getting through to her, replacing her fury of being denied with a strong sense of shame. She felt sudden grief, but she refused to cry. Warriors did not do so. At another time that sentiment might have felt childish, but with her wounded pride that mattered to her.
"I didn't want those people to die. I didn't mean for that ambush to happen to us. You know that right?" She said quietly.
"I know. So does he." Michel said quietly. "It's one more reason he was so lenient. If you had intended those deaths you would have been a traitor, and then you would have been killed for certain. But you chose to make a command decision without consulting or even informing him. In so doing you challenged his authority. He could not let that slide, particularly as the consequences of your action were so tragic."
Ynessa sighed, sheathed her sword and stared at the ground for a very long time.
"Maybe you're right. Maybe you both are." She said finally, her voice little more than a whisper. "Maybe I've been behaving like an entitled brat. This drive in me… it is sometimes a burden. It's just… it's what I am, who I am. I can't help myself. I still want to fight the king more than anything… but maybe I have been in error in the way I have pursued that desire lately. And others have paid the price for my mistakes. That is not how it should be."
"Being denied this opportunity is not a pleasant feeling. But I suppose that's the point. And I suppose there is some justice in that." She added.
Then she smiled. "Thank the Maker I have a friend who can kick me in the head and make me see sense when I can't. Thank the Maker and thank you."
"You're welcome." He said. "It might be a good idea to apologize to the Marshal. He'll forgive you sooner if you show him that you are remorseful."
"I can't. Not yet at least. Some things I my pride won't let me do, not even when he is in the right." She said.
"We should go back to camp. I think I'll get drunk. Fancy joining me?" She asked.
"Okay. For one cup. Our attack is so close I should keep myself sober." He decided.
She gave a dry laugh. "Fine. Have your one cup. Afterwards I'll find myself somewhere to sit and drink and watch the rest of you storm the castle while feeling miserable I'm not there with you."
"Fair enough. Just don't get into trouble." He said.
"No need to worry, Michel. You know alcohol doesn't make me angrier. It just get drowsy." She replied.
Later, as darkness was starting to pale into the early morning, Jon was touring the castle, checking on their preparations. In the infirmary to his surprise he spotted Sansa. She was wearing a white apron over her dress and carrying a stack of folded linens to one of the tables.
"Sansa, what on earth are you doing?" He asked.
"I've decided that I don't want to be the only person here who isn't doing anything to help our side in this fight. So I will be working with the healers from now on." She said, turning to him.
"You want to help treat the wounded?" He asked, even more surprised than a moment ago.
"Yes. I need to do something if I'm to live with myself. But I don't know a thing about fighting, so it was either this or the kitchens. And while even that is important, scrubbing pots and peeling potatoes wouldn't feel worthwhile. This is better." She said.
"Do you know the first thing about treating people?" He asked.
"Not really, but the healers said that an extra pair of hands can still be of use to them. I talked it over with the healers, and they're fine with it. They'll let me know what they need, when they need it." She said.
"If… if this what you wish to do." Jon said after a moment of silence.
"It is. I was one of the ones who put these people here to defend us. The very least I can do for them is to help them when they get hurt." She said.
"It's going to get rough you know. The wounded they'll be bringing here... It won't be a pretty sight." He said.
"I've seen such things before, and I have a stronger constitution than you seem to think. You don't need to protect me." She said.
Jon smiled. "I know. I try to remember that, but what else is a brother to do?"
Sansa smiled as well. "Cousin, technically. But if you want to protect me, there will be plenty of opportunities. I'd rather you kept the Orlesians out of here, otherwise the work I do for the injured won't matter much."
"Then that is what I shall do. To the best of my ability." He said.
"Well… that's good." She said, turned around and resumed her work. Then she stopped again, unable to continue.
"It's almost time, isn't it?" She asked.
"Yes. It is. Nervous?" Jon asked.
"Yes." She confirmed quietly. "And you?"
"Of course." Jon said.
Sansa turned back to him again. "I guess, uh… I guess you should get going. Your people need you."
For a single heartbeat they paused. Then she moved forward and they embraced.
"Stay safe Jon." She said as the two held each other tightly.
"You too Sansa." He responded. They continued to embrace for a moment longer. Then they separated themselves and Jon left through the door. Sansa watched him walk away, then raised her hand to the level of her eyes, seeing how it trembled. She immediately balled her hand into a fist to stop that. She took a deep breath to steady herself, then returned to work.
Jon found his way to Winterfell's yard, heading towards the gate. As he walked he spotted Kieran among the other people of the yard, and they gave each other a nod of acknowledgement. Along the way to the gate he stopped briefly to chat with some of his soldiers. Even as this army numbered only two thousand now, there were too many for him to know every soldier in his army personally. Even so, he did his best to give himself a few familiar faces among them, to spread comradeship among them by speaking with them face to face, not as their King but their brother-in-arms. That feeling of brotherhood could make the difference between victory and defeat. Of course the performance of that duty had lately made him more uneasy than it typically did. Because he had kept a dreadful secret from them. How many of these men would be safely with their families had he told them of the Orlesian offer? How many might die now because he had hidden the truth from them? If they ever found out that he had done this, how could he ever look them in the eye again?
"Sansa was right. It had to be done. We needed them here. If we had told them too many would have abandoned us, and the rest of us wouldn't have had no hope then. There was no other choice." He told himself for the hundredth time. But telling himself did not make him feel any better about it. Perhaps he didn't even want to feel better about it. He could understand the necessity of this, and accept it on those grounds. But no one had at any point told him that he needed to like it.
He had just reached the base of the stairs leading up to the walls when he happened to overhear a group of soldiers seated on crates and barrels near the wall.
"May the spirit of ser Twenty of House Goodmen be with us." One of the soldiers said, which prompted laughter and quiet cheers from the others. Finding himself curious, he walked over. As he approached the soldiers stood up, about to bow to him.
"No no. No need for that now." He said, and the soldiers nodded and sat back down.
"Might I know your name soldier?" He asked of the soldier that had spoken.
"Its… It's Malcom, Your Grace." The soldier said nervously.
"I noticed you reference the spirit of some knight earlier. I must confess I don't recognize the name. Is it some recently knighted house?" Jon said.
"Oh that? Uh, no Your Grace. That happens not to be an actual knight at all. It's… more of an inside joke from the army I used to serve with before all this." Malcom said.
"There was a story back then you see, about a member of our ruling House not needing an army to attack his enemy, but rather only needing twenty good men. So somewhere along the line some of the lads hit upon the idea that it didn't actually mean twenty good men, but rather one guy, a *ser Twenty of House Goodmen*. It sort of stuck and started circulating among the troops, getting new details added as people talked of him. Eventually he kinda became this character. Supposedly he is this spirit of this travelling knight that in life sold his service to various armies. And any army he joined could not be beaten in battle, because he was such a damn good fighter. He never stayed with one army for long though, drawn as he was into new adventures. So all that good fortune in battle got spread evenly. He kept that up until he died of old age. But his spirit continued to wander the lands, looking for worthy armies to join up with. So now armies all over the place hope for the *spirit of ser Twenty* to be with them and give them victory in the battle.
"Oh… and which army was it where you heard this story? Not one that was under my command I think, else I might have already known of this." Jon asked.
"No… not one of yours…" Malcom said, appearing to be hesitant to answer.
"Ah. I think I understand. You don't need to be afraid. I don't hold it agaisnt you that you fought with my enemies. All that matters is that you're not opposing me now. You can speak freely." Jon said reassuringly.
"Was it with House Warblade then that you learned this story then?" He asked then.
"Well I was with them, but that wasn't where I learned that story. It… it happened when I served in the Bolton army Your Grace." Malcom said.
"The Boltons?" Jon repeated, caught by surprise.
"Yeah. I was recruited just before we faced off against Stannis Baratheon. The story I mentioned started going around about that time. After that I was in the Battle of the Bastards, one of the archers. Also one of the handful of the Bolton side who survived that battle." Malcom said.
"It was never anything personal that I fought against you in that battle of course. When your Lord calls you to battle, you don't say no to that. Particularly with the one that was in charge at that time. Doing so would have cost bits and pieces that I for one would prefer to keep." He added hastily.
"It's alright. I see…" Jon gave the soldier a long look. He certainly looked old enough to have been in that battle. And it was unlikely that he would make a claim like that unless it was true. "I seem to remember that all the Bolton soldiers were conscripted into my army afterwards?"
"That's true. That's how I ended up fighting for you for the first time. I was at the Battle of Nightfall, and later on at the taking of King's Landing. Survived both, obviously. After that the fighting stopped and I tried to get back to my wife and kids. Turns out they didn't survive the White Walkers…" Malcom said.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." Jon said.
"It's alright. I mourned them for a long while, but eventually I decided I had to move on. Soon after that House Warblade decided to settle the area and start lording over the people that lived there. Since I had already done a lot of fighting and there wasn't all that much else for me to do, I decided to enlist in their army. I had no idea that they intended to raise themselves against you, of course." Malcom said.
"And then you managed to survive my army's battle with House Warblade and got conscripted into my army for a second time." Jon said. "Which also means you survived the battle with the Orlesians, and the ambush battle later on."
Jon gave a whistle. "You must have the best luck in all of the Twin Kingdoms."
"Or the worst. Depends on who you ask." Malcom said.
"And these others? Do they have a story comparable to yours?" Jon asked.
"Timothy there has more or less the same tale. But most of the others are just friends I pick up when I served in your armies. A few are even new ones I managed to get against all odds after the mess that led to my second conscription by you." Malcom said.
"Hmm." Jon hummed his understanding. "Battle of the Bastards… the Bolton troops did fight very well that day, unfortunately for my side. House Warblade did put up quite a fight as well. And those that fought during the Battle of Nightfall… their heroism can never be overstated. This world owes gratitude to you for that." He then contemplated. "Put that same effort to today's battle and I'm sure we will beat the Orlesians back."
Malcom nodded. "I shall. And thank you." A number of the others nodded as well.
"Good luck to you soldier. To you all." Jon said. "And… may ser Twenty of House Goodmen be with us." He added with a smile, his jape earning him laughter and cheers from the soldiers.
With that Jon left the group of soldiers and climbed the stairs to the wall. He found Edmond there, the Nevarran's eyes fixed on the Orlesian camp.
"Ser Edmond. Everything in order on your end?" Jon asked.
"So far no trouble. No movement from the enemy camp yet. That will change soon though. I'm certain of it." Edmond said.
Jon nodded and turned his eyes to the enemy camp as well. "Do you think we have a chance?" He asked after a lengthy time of silent observation.
Edmond did not respond at once. "We have done all the preparations we could think of. We are as ready as we can possibly be. But there is just no way around it. It is going to be brutal. Today will be the worst. The enemy believes they are in for a pushover victory, so they will put their full strength behind their first attacks, hoping to overwhelm us and put us out of commission in short order. The strength of that push will make things difficult for us, but the enemy overconfidence will be our best advantage. We will have a good chance to cause them heavy losses. If we make it through the first day they should become more cautious. Then it will be just a matter of seeing how long we can stretch things out."
"I see." Jon said. "We'll focus on surviving this one assault at a time, and worry about the rest as it comes." He decided.
"Yes, Your Grace. That would be best." Edmond said.
There was again a moment of silence.
"I have been thinking… I said some heated things to you when we decided on this course of action. It occurs to me that I never apologized for that. I wish to do so now while there is still time. Maybe fighting makes you uneasy, but even so it was very unkind for me to call you a coward. Not to mention untrue. If you were craven you wouldn't be here to help us now." Jon said.
Edmond smiled. "Thank you Your Grace. I believe I ought to apologize as well for the things I said. I spoke out of turn. You are a king. I had no business speaking to you with that tone."
Jon smiled, glad that there were no leftover hard feelings for them over this.
"But I think I should clarify. It's not fighting that frightens me, not even dying. Not in a way that would paralyze me at least. It's blood that does that." The Nevarran Knight said then.
"What do you mean?" Jon asked, frowning.
"Just that. It's blood that makes me scared. I don't know why that is so for certain, but there was incident in my youth that probably has something to do with it. I was perhaps five or six, and I had sneaked off to watch a tourney without my parent's permission. There was an accident on the field. One of the participating knights got a splinter from a tourney lance through his throat. I was hiding close by and got showered with the stuff. Ever since the sight of blood, or having it touch me has been an issue for me. It doesn't have to be my blood, I don't have to be bleeding to be scared. It's enough that someone is."
"I had no idea…" Jon said, having not expected this confession.
"Why would you have Your Grace? I don't talk about this often. Most people just don't understand." Edmond said. He sighed and shook his head. "It's an unbelievably stupid thing for someone like me to go on becoming a knight, a job where the sight of blood is more than likely. But that was what my family expected of me. I could not let them down just because I had issues. Over the years I have learned to manage my condition though. After a fashion. If I have had time to prepare myself mentally I can usually control myself to remain functional, but if I get caught by surprise it can still get pretty bad."
"It seems you are far braver than I even knew. Every time you engage in battle there is a great fear that you must overcome. And overcoming your fears is what courage is all about. Thank you for telling me this." Jon said.
"You are welcome. I felt that needed to be explained, now that you had noticed the problem exists. But please Your Grace, if we might return our attention to the battle preparations now?" Edmond said.
"Of course." Jon said. "The champion of the Orlesian Marshal I told you about earlier… Ynessa des Montagnes. She seemed intent to fight me in person. What can you tell me about her?" He asked then, managing to completely mangle the pronunciation of her name.
"Not much that that you don't already know, other than that she has a reputation for being one of the deadliest combatants in the Empire, which is proven by the sword she wields. I do know quite a bit more of that weapon as it happens. It is known as the Sunblade, and it is an ancient relic of the Orlesian Empire. No one really knows who made it or where it came from, but it is said to predate the Empire itself, and it holds great symbolic value to them. Orlesian lore says that the blade will never bend or break so long as Orlais stands, and that its light will never dim so long as there is courage in the hearts of the people of the Empire. True or not, it is one of the most potent weapons in the known world, able to cut through just about any material with ease. Only items with magical properties have been known to be able to stand against it. The wielder of the sword is known as the Chosen Sword of Orlais, and they are always considered one of the best fighters within the Empire. That is a title that, uncharacteristically for Orlais, cannot be bought or born into, only earned. To claim ownership of the sword a person has to defeat the current owner in personal combat.
"And if no one ever manages to do so?" Jon asked.
"Then when the previous owner dies a competition at arms is arranged between interested claimants and the one that is able to defeat all the other competitors gains ownership of the weapon." Edmond explained.
"It does sound like a dangerous thing." Jon admitted. "Do you think its wielder will be taking part in today's assault?" He asked.
"Almost certainly. Her combat abilities should be a great help in their efforts to overcome our defenses. It's hard to imagine why they wouldn't send her. And based on what you told me about her wanting to fight you, she will be looking for you during the battle. So be ready for her." Edmond said.
"I will be." Jon said, his voice grim.
A northerner horn blew a signal, interrupting their conversation. That only meant one thing. Turning their attention to the Orlesian camp Jon and Edmond saw enemy troops starting to emerge, gathering outside the camp.
It was starting.
"Battlestations! Battlestations!" Jon shouted down at the yard, and at once people began to run about, distributing equipment, moving to man the walls.