A/N: This chapter will be more focused on Mern Gardener and the Reachmen, and their war against the Dornish. Thanks to FieryMatter for beta-ing this chapter.
Edit: Made a change regarding the knight casualty ratio between Dayne and Reach knights – five Reach Knights to one Dayne Knight.
Chapter XVIII: War to End All Wars, Part VI
3rd POV:
Torrentine River Region
Mern Garderner IX, King of the Reach and Commander of the Dornish invasion force, cursed under his breath as he read the latest casualty reports. His command tent was illuminated by a single lantern burning softly, the soft desert winds his only companion for the night. Patrols regularly maintained a strict vigil, wary of nightly Dornish attacks.
"This is… by the Seven, to think these Knights of House Dayne would cost us so dearly."
The initial phase of the invasion went smoothly. A combination of large numbers and shock and awe, taking the Stone Dornish off-guard as they struggled to beat back this massive invasion. Houses Manwoody, Fowler and Blackmont were quickly taken down, their individual power no match for the large Reachmen army.
And in a bid to truly secure their land route and not worry about their rear flanks being compromised, Mern ordered that all the males be sent to the Wall, while the women were exiled to Essos, never to return. It was exceedingly tame for a punishment at first glance, but the fact entire houses were being forcibly uprooted and stripped of their holdings was a terrible sign none of the Dornish nobles liked.
Here is where the good news ended.
House Dayne held a strong chivalric tradition, claiming descent since the Dawn of Days and fielding the best knights Dorne had ever taken to the field. Each time the Reachmen tried to invade Dorne, these knights were always the first line of defense against the invaders, the hammer upon the anvil. Their skills were also top-notch, and as a direct result each Dayne knight cost nearly a hundred domain knights, worsened by the Reachmen's inability to deploy cavalry, siege weapons or large formations due to the treacherous mountain passes and the Dornish's intimate knowledge of the mountain passes, allowing them to strike with impunity from unseen angles.
Well, the part about each Dayne knight being worth a hundred Reach knights was a Dayne boast – an outright lie – but it still took at least five or so Reach knights for each of the Daynes' own, a testament to their skill and tactical acumen.
Nevertheless, if the Dornish could not beat them head-on, they would bleed them through a thousand cuts, and bleed them they did as thousands of corpses showed. Furthermore, the Reachmen had to take control of the Torrentine River so they could easily resupply from the river and remove one of the largest contenders to their invasion of Dorne.
Worse still was House Wyl. With their knowledge of the treacherous Boneway, they could easily make the invaders pay for each inch of land in torrents of blood. Widely reputed as capriciously cruel predators of Dorne, they were known to lay out decapitated and maimed bodies of their enemies along the mountain paths, striking fear and uncertainty in the hearts of all who dared trespass into their nest.
House Dayne had already cost them heavily, and if the Reach was to fully control the Red Mountains without intruding into the Stormlands, well… that was virtually impossible. Not unless the Stormlords of the Dornish Marches somehow allied with the Reach to get rid of House Wyl and grant them access through their lands in exchange for expanding the Stormlords' lands – again, virtually impossible.
Mern shook his head with a heavy sigh.
"My King?"
Mern grunted at the voice calling through the tent flaps, refusing to turn his face away from the casualty reports.
"What is it, Brandyll?" He asked, annoyed.
"My King, can we afford such casualty rates for much longer?" The young knight questioned, "I know war demands sacrifices, but I don't if we can sustain these casualties for much longer."
"I know, Brandyll," Mern replied with a sigh, "But we have to push forward. This once-in-a-lifetime opportunity will never come again, we must take the opportunity to crush the Dornish once and for all before we annex these sandy lands under our rule."
Brandyll nodded at this.
"And once we conquer the Red Mountains… how long until we march upon the rest of Dorne, Your Grace?" He enquired.
"…If I were the Dornish, I'd attack as soon as I try to establish order," Mern growled loud enough to make Brandyll flinch, "It'll take us a minimum of two months to fully secure the Red Mountains. Not only to secure our supply lines and our control of the region but also to establish proper defense measures against any Dornish raiders. I'd prefer to rush into the main interior of Dorne, but that'd be suicide."
"Indeed, it would be," Brandyll admitted, "The Dornish know their lands well, our troops are suffering under the Dornish heat, and our water supplies are the only thing keeping the men in fighting condition. Although…"
Brandyll walked closer and leaned in to whisper, "I hear many of the men grumbling, and if we don't handle this soon…"
Brandyll dared not finish his sentence, instead leaving the implication hanging in the air. Mern simply nodded and informed Brandyll, "Tell the men we're to launch an all-out attack on Starfall in two days' time. We must take it before the week is out."
"A week?" Brandyll gasped, "But isn't Starfall a stronghold? Surely the seat of one of Dorne's most powerful houses can't be taken so quickly?"
"More than a week and our morale will plummet," Mern revealed, "We're due to be resupplied in two weeks' time, and if we cannot take Starfall by then, I fear this time our supply caravans will be attacked, and then we'll be forced to retreat. Furthermore we need control of the Torrentine River so we can be resupplied by sea."
"I understand, Your Grace," Brandyll assured, "Although… perhaps I might suggest an idea?"
Mern raised an eyebrow, "Go on."
"As you said, Your Grace, we need to take control of the Torrentine River for resupply via sea. So might I suggest we initiate a two-pronged attack?"
Mern's lips curled in satisfaction, his mind already picturing their next course of action.
"Indeed, if they faced a two-pronged attack, House Dayne will be forced to split its forces and make our job much easier," Mern put forth, "But we've already committed the full extent of our forces to this invasion."
"The full extent of our land forces, Your Grace. We've yet to commit our navies to the cause."
"Hmph. And here I thought I would not need to deploy them until after we fully conquered the Red Mountains. I suppose we ought to thank Askari for taking care of the Dornish navy for us; they don't have the strength to resist us on the oceans. Very well. Brandyll, send a missive to Harlen to immediately request for the deployment of our navy – the Redwyne fleet in particular – to deploy to the Torrentine for the pincer attack against Starfall."
"At once, Your Grace!" Brandyll saluted before exiting the tent.
Once he was alone in the tent, Mern leaned back in his chair, his mind deep in thought.
Perhaps I should have attacked from multiple fronts from the beginning, if I was going to suffer this much grief over some tiny hills alone.
IIOII
Highgarden, Harlen Tyrell's Study
"Father, we've received an urgent missive from His Grace. He says we must deploy the navy posthaste to Dorne and besiege Starfall in a pincer attack."
Eddin Tyrell was Harlen's second son, a more bookish person who loved the world of literature and academics compared to his more martial brother Theo. His clothes outlined his slim body with barely any muscle, a common point of mockery among those many nobles who fancied the Reach's ideas of chivalry and military glory. His complexion was pasty from years in the shade, his face fine-boned with high cheekbones and his yellow eyes squinted, his eyes sharp and focused, his short hair a curly chestnut.
Harlen nodded to his son as he took the missive offered by Eddin. He read it, and after a brief nod tucked away said missive and told Eddin, "Send word to Lord Jaron Redwyne to ready the Redwyne fleet, and attack Starfall by sea without delay."
"As you order, Father," Eddin acknowledged.
In mere seconds, the missive was written and handed to a messenger who swiftly departed by steed, galloping away into the sunset.
"I have to ask, Father," Eddin began, "Why didn't His Grace simply call in the fleet earlier? If he called it in earlier, he would not have suffered such dreadful casualties in the Red Mountains; he says he's lost close to five knights for each of Dayne's own!"
News of the disproportionate rate of casualties between the Reach's and the Dayne's was disheartening enough, and what of future battles in the interior of Dorne? Was this the prelude to a long and costly war? And if so, how much more blood must be spilled for the Reach to permanently end the Dornish threat? Thus under a strict gag order, news of this was to be suppressed. Only Harlen and Eddin knew of this information.
"Son… here is a very important lesson you must learn when serving in any court," Harlen advised, "When leaders make mistakes, they can never publicly admit to them."
"Father, I don't understand," Eddin admitted.
Harlen simply nodded and began, "Leaders are just like their subordinates – flawed Human beings prone to making mistakes. Good leaders recognise their mistakes and make efforts to correct and learn from them… but they can never admit to them."
"Why so? Truthfully, I don't see any reason to not admit to them," Eddin shrugged.
"That's because you've yet to be thrust into a leadership position," Harlen pointed out, "Since you're still under my tutelage and yet to be given any real responsibility, you can afford to say that. However, when a leader readily admits to mistakes, it can lead to more problems; say there is a subordinate whose respect you've never earned. When you admit your mistake, he will use it as an excuse to challenge your authority and request that you be replaced."
"So it can be used as a weakness in politics?" Eddin asked.
"That, and more," Harlen nodded, "If you faced defeat in battle due to mistakes you made, it can cause morale to plummet as a result, thus making defeat a certainty in the next battle. This is but one of many reasons why leaders, as a rule, cannot admit to their mistakes, at least out in the open."
"But I really don't understand, father," Harlen added, "Surely, if a leader admits to his mistakes, it would show that he is no arrogant, foppish fool who cannot listen to good advi-"
"And if his men were so accommodating and strong in spirit, we wouldn't need to fear such a thing in the first place," Harlen harshly interrupted, his voice and eyes hard as steel.
"I-I misspoke, forgive me," Eddin quickly apologised, lowering his gaze.
Harlen sighed and quickly stood up to hug his son, and Eddin's shoulders relaxed as tension left his body.
"I'm sorry. I know I can be overly harsh at times," Harlen soothed, "But you must understand this: Leaders are pillars of strength and emotional support for their men. They have unforgiving expectations placed upon their shoulders, and being too ready to admit to one's own faults can cause the men to lose faith in their leader. His Grace is fighting hard to end the Dornish menace and he made a mistake in the initial phase of the campaign, which cost him more men than initially anticipated. Yet this is exactly why he can't admit too easily to his faults, because right now his men look to him for guidance. Do you understand me?"
Eddin nodded to acknowledge his father's words, "I understand now, Father."
"Good," Harlen said with a smile, "You will be thrust into a role of leadership one day, so learn while you can to prepare yourself; you may be secondborn, but as a scion of our illustrious house, you must learn to deal with all manner of politicians, sycophants and bellicose men who will not hesitate to use you for their own agendas. And remember…"
"Growing strong are the roses with hidden thorns," Eddin finished.
Harlen patted his back, "That's my boy."
IIOII
2 BC, 1st Month
Outskirts of Starfall
Starfall, home of House Dayne and a formidable fortress that has never been breached in its entire history, save once when House Martell brought their Water Wizards to bear and levelled its walls to dust. Their knights cost the Martells dearly as they now cost the Reachmen dearly, and House Dayne was confident in its ability to repel the invaders after bleeding the Reachmen so dearly. The valley where the ancient fortress was located was vast and thus had ample space to accommodate trebuchets, but Starfall itself lay on an island out of their reach, so they could not bombard Starfall in that direction.
Mern, however, was not one to either squander his opportunities or be disheartened by such losses. Furthermore, the harsh lessons he learned from his own battles with the Dornish would soon bear fruit.
"Starfall, such a magnificent castle…" Theo breathed, his eyes wide in awe, "Truly, it is a formidable castle. Superior as our troops are, I'd rather we wait for more fortuitous timing."
"Thank you for stating the obvious," Mern replied, "And we will attack the castle once the Redwyne Navy arrives for the pincer attack."
"But how will they help us?" Asked Brandyll, "I've taken a look at the castle and the surroundings, and they have powerful trebuchets and ballistae on the ramparts. Our navy would be torn apart before they get close to unload troops, and ballistae would not be as effective against the walls."
"Ah, but that's where you're wrong, I'm afraid," Mern smiled, "I'm not planning to unload troops or bombard the walls with ballistae; I've something else planned for these bastards."
"Truly? What is your plan then, Your Grace?" Theo cut in, eager to know the answer.
Mern smirked, "You'll know when you see it."
A few days later…
It was under the cover of night that the Redwyne ships arrived just out of sight of Starfall's sentries, loaded with troops and catapults and ready to execute a daring and ambitious plan to end the threat of House Dayne.
Jaron Redwyne, a young and vigorous man beaming with joy and charisma, looked upon the walls of Starfall in the distance with bright blue eyes full of anticipation and enthusiasm. His complexion was a tanned beige from years under the sun and his dirty blonde hair tied in crowned braids, salty and dry from the sea breeze. Clad in plate armour befitting an Arbor Knight [1] and patting his sword by his side, he awaited the reports from his sailors.
"My Lord, we're nearing the waters of the Torrentine River, no resistance encountered so far," Sailor 1 reported.
"Do you see any Dornish sentries up in the mountains?" Jaron asked.
Some sailors used their Myrish far-eyes to scan the mountain ridges, and after a few moments Sailor 2 reported, "No, My Lord. We've seen neither sentry nor signal fire atop the mountains-Wait… His Grace is launching an attack on Starfall! He's bringing forward mantles and scalling ladders, and firing ballistae!"
"Then we push forward," Jaron ordered, "Order all ships to sail full speed ahead and ready the catapults! We're bringing down Starfall!"
The galley ships were not built to hold the weight of trebuchets, so they had to use shorter-ranged catapults instead, and here is where they brought their nastiest surprise into play.
"Ready the barrels!" Jaron ordered.
Redwyne sailors loaded their catapults with barrels just as the Dayne ships drew closer; the Daynes themselves never maintained a strong navy and did not deploy their ships to help the Martells due to needing to protect their trade routes, and right now they were outnumbered four-to-one.
The Redwynes had no time to waste with these puny sailors.
"Launch!"
The catapults fired, and barrels crashed into the Dayne ships, imploding in plumes of bright ghostly green. Within minutes, the ships were capsizing and their crews screaming as they drowned and burned in watery graves, joining their wooden mermaids in death.
"By the Seven… that's a sight to see," Sailor 1 commented.
"No wonder we were ordered to stock up on so much wildfire, we should use it more often!" Sailor 2 quipped.
"Wildfire's a very dangerous substance," Jaron reminded them, "If we weren't careful, it would explode on us instead, and we'd be doing the Dornish a favour."
"Yes, My Lord, you're right," Sailor 1 nodded, "There's no Dayne ships remaining, My Lord."
"Very good, once you're in range, launch the wildfire barrels directly into the city, and make sure to hit the city gates as well!" Jaron ordered.
"At once, My Lord!" Sailor 2 saluted and left to carry out his orders.
With no navy to stop the Redwynes, they were free to bombard the castle of Starfall with impunity, and the sight of the ancient castle imploding in green fire was a thing of beauty in the eyes of the Reachmen. For countless eons they had to suffer raid after raid by the Dornish on their soil, whose rulers could not be bothered to even lift a finger to duly punish the culprits, and who even used it as an excuse to weaken their neighbours.
Now, at long last, they would end the threat once and for all, and show the world that Dorne was not the mighty kingdom it purported itself to be.
"My Lord! The gates are burning down!" Sailor 1 reported.
Jaron Redwyne drew his sword with a bloodthirsty grin, "Bring down the castle and spare no one! Death to House Dayne!"
His sailors let out a jubilant roar in response, and after picking up Mern's troops, the ships soon docked at port as gangplanks were unloaded, unleashing their payload of death and destruction as troops filtered out and invaded the castle of Starfall.
Before long, screams and pleas of pity filled the air, promptly ignored by the Reachmen sacking the city on the King's orders, and the high nobility became special victims of the invaders' longstanding grudges and frustrations for fresh wounds and old scars.
It was a beautiful symphony to hear. A symphony of vengeance and retribution, millennia in the making, and Jaron revelled in it.
IIOII
The sunrise cast a blanket of crimson light upon the ruined walls of Starfall. The smell of smoke and blood was still fresh in the air as the troops went about their grim, boring duty of cleaning corpses. Dornish corpses were thrown into piles to cremate into ash, alongside those of the Reachmen to avoid the outbreak of plague.
The male survivors of House Dayne were put to the sword, while the female survivors were banished to Essos to never return. Thus, another ancient House was extinguished from the annals of history.
Now Mern held court in the throne room of Starfall, his generals looking exhausted but jubilant and riding high on the momentum of their triumph.
"Your Grace, at this rate, we should be able to conquer western Dorne in about six months' time!" Theo enthusiastically pointed out, "Perhaps we should set out again after a brief month's rest?"
Even the more hotblooded nobles like Theo wanted some time to rest, having spent weeks in constant battle against the Dornish and being bloodied badly against them.
"You are half-right, Theo," Mern agreed, "But we'll need more than a month's rest, I'm afraid. We're not just exhausted, we've lost hundreds of knights and thousands of infantrymen in the battles for the Red Mountains alone, and given the Dornish's fanatical sense of independence, we'll have to spend months both trying to entrench our rule and to train our reinforcements."
"How long do you believe we should lick our wounds, Your Grace?" Brandyll inquired.
"Three months," Mern stated.
Many generals whispered among themselves at Mern's caution.
"But Your Grace, shouldn't we be attempting to conquer Dorne as fast as possible?" Theo enquired, "I know we've been bled badly, but if we leave Askari too much time to entrench himself, he may prove a thorn in our side."
Mern sighed, "I know, Theo. I know. But considering the casualties we sustained here, I fear we'll be sustaining far more in the coming battles. If we're to push deeper, we must have an iron grasp on our supply routes unless we want the Dornish to starve us to death."
"I also wish for a quicker resolution to this campaign, I admit," Brandyll nodded, "But His Grace is right; we cannot hope to recover so quickly in just a month."
"…What I fear more is the severe depletion of our knights," Theo stated, "They're easily the Reach's greatest strength, and if we fight the Dornish without our greatest strength, I fear that we may rely too much on our levies."
Left unsaid was the fact that levies in general tended to be less well-equipped and well-trained than most troops, knights especially, but Lords in general mostly do not invest in full-time, professional soldiers due to the costs involved.
"Then it's settled. We shall cease all battles for three months and focus on defense of the Red mountains," Mern declared, "Theo, I want you to send a missive to Harlen; order that he assign capable bureaucrats to administer our newly conquered territories, and for fresh reinforcements to come to us. Additionally, make sure they are men who will not mistreat the Dornish for any reason whatsoever."
"Yes, Your Grace," Theo saluted.
"Brandyll, I want you and the other generals to shore up our defenses and organise regular patrols, conscripting guides to help familiarise our troops with our surroundings. Do not under any circumstance allow the Dornish to raid our holdings or stir discontent among our conquered subjects."
"At once, Your Grace!" Brandyll affirmed.
"In the meantime, issue forth my next edict: Not a single Dornish smallfolk is to be unduly harmed unless they broke the law, and all laws are to be rehashed according to the Reach's code of law. All lords are to treat the locals impartially and fairly, and land redistributed according to the merits earned in battle."
"Understood!" The whole court chorused.
IIOII
2 BC, 1st Month
Casterly Rock
Casterly Rock, capital of the Kingdom of the Rock, and the seat of power of House Lannister since the region was first united under its rule. A mighty castle, its walls thick and tall and its ramparts strong, it began as a ringfort at the hilltop, gradually expanding over the millennia with hundreds of mineshafts yielding thousands of tonnes of gold ore and large sea-carved caverns dug into the hill itself. Overlooking the Sunset Sea, the harbours in the caverns at the base of the Rock – through the Lion's Mouth – provided ample space and shelter for its ships, and with a whole slew of other amenities situated within the Rock – barracks, septs, passages, gardens and stables, there was little doubt of Casterly Rock's reputation as one of the most impregnable strongholds of all times.
The Rock was made even more impressive by the Golden Gallery, host to all manner of extravagant and gilded treasures from ornaments to rare weapons, its walls gilded with shining gold as was befitting its namesake.
Within the throne room of Casterly Rock, Loren Lannister, First of His Name, contemplated his next move after hearing the latest news from his messenger.
"That will be all. Dismissed," Loren waved off the man with his hand.
"Yes, Your Grace," The courier excused himself.
Stern-faced and proud as all lions are, Loren's mane of golden hair was neatly trimmed in a crew cut, his eyes narrow and severe and his lips thin. His fair skin was slightly tanned and rough, his chin chiselled and his nose large and angular.
"To think House Targaryen would finally bare its fangs against all of Westeros… and for House Martell to meet its end by its own hand," Loren mused, chuckling softly, "Things are certainly becoming far more interesting by the day. And now House Gardener seeks to bring Dorne to heel by military conquest. I suppose sooner or later, he'll be wanting…"
Interrupting his musings was a soldier bringing more news, "Your Grace, an emissary from the Reach is here with a request from King Mern Gardener."
"Send him in," Loren beckoned, somewhat unsurprised.
The Reach's emissary was quick to bow before King Loren as was proper decorum.
"King Loren Lannister of the Rock, His Grace Mern IX Gardener of the Reach wishes to enter into an alliance with your lands," The emissary explained, "In light of the Targaryen offensive and unexpectedly fierce resistance in Dorne, he believes that it is better for us to unite in the face of a common enemy. Already the Targaryens make their move in the Riverlands and prepare to annex it under their rule, and a fleet has already been dispatched in the direction of the Iron Islands. What's more, an army was dispatched to the Stormlands after King Argilac Durrandon refused King Aegon's offer of betrothal regarding his daughter to his baseborn brother Orys Baratheon."
Loren frowned heavily at this news; with their dragons, it was a trivial matter for the Targaryens to conquer and annex what they now called the Crownlands, and even with the massive fortress of Harrenhal at Harren Hoare's disposal, Loren doubted the massive fortress or even the Iron Islands themselves would survive.
And once they gained three kingdoms' worth of land and resources… their strategic position would enable them to effectively checkmate the other Kingdoms and eventually control the whole continent. That could not be allowed.
Still, there's just no way any King in their right mind would accept a betrothal for any of their children towards a baseborn, no matter the status. It'd be a terrible blow to the house's prestige and reputation, Loren thought, Or, maybe Aegon was deliberately provoking King Argilac to gain a just cause for war… Either way, it seems peace won't last much longer.
"Tell King Mern that I agree to an alliance, and wish to meet with him to hash out the finer details of the treaty," Loren replied.
"We cannot thank you enough for accepting, Your Grace!" The emissary sighed in relief before he quickly took his leave.
Loren sighed and rubbed his forehead.
"Ser Tyrion, summon the Small Council for a meeting immediately," He ordered.
"At once, Your Grace," The knight replied with a bow.
The Dragon rises from its slumber. And now, so too must the Lion.