The Field of Fire

Orys woke up early the next morning to prepare himself for battle. He gulped down a cold breakfast and washed before dressing himself in his battle armor. Grabbing his greatsword, he stepped outside to see the army being hastily assembled and getting ready to march. Chaos was everywhere as men hurried to join their squadrons. They yawned as they stood around, waiting for orders. A few of them were playing around with their swords, which earned them a tough scolding from their commanding officers. These men were young and they know nothing of the brutality of combat. Orys shook his head and sighed to himself as he climbed onto his horse.

Most of these men were soldiers "donated" by the various lords who submitted. Orys doubted their honor and their courage. He was sure they would scatter at the first sign of trouble but Aegon had reassured him everything would be alright. The King's command horn sounded moments later and the army began marching out. Orys, Balion, and Kaeon rode at the front of the army, who marched in four columns behind them. Once they reached the predetermined location of the battle, they began to fan out into formation. Balion Qoherys collected his men and went left while Kaeon and his cavalry force charged forward. Orys organized his own men and proceeded to the right wing of the army.

The force of Mern and Loren was magnificent. Hundreds of banners flew over their army, which stretched as far as the eye can see. The sheer size of their army made Aegon's force look like a pack of bandits. "Steady, steady, find your courage men," Orys said as the men began talking amongst themselves. From the looks of it, the outcomes won't be favorable, but if Aegon wanted to battle then he must have a reason.

Orys chose a very simple formation for his army. He placed his spearmen and men-at-arms at the front so they can take the full impact of the enemy charge. He had a few archers but he chose not to use them – their arrows would be useless against the heavily armored foe. Surrounding him at the rear of the formation were his cavalry; at least they were called cavalry on paper, but in reaility they were nothing more than young boys on horseback carrying a spear.

A horn blew somewhere in the enemy formation and it was followed by a definite roar as the army started to charge. The ground shook from men's feet and horses' hooves and Orys' men began to back away. Then a disturbing report came – the vanguard was smashed, Kaeon Targaryen has fled back wounded.

"Don't mind them! Prepare for battle!" Orys shouted, trying to rally his men. He could smell their fear in the air. This won't do, he thought to himself.

The enemy came at them like an angry wave. The knights leading the charge quickly scattered the spearmen and enemy infantry began hacking and slashing at the panicking Targaryen soldiers. Blood was raining down everywhere. Heads and limbs littered the ground. Bodies dropped as if they were flies. Soon Orys' infantry broke rank and began to flee. Despite his best attempts to rally them, it was hopeless.

"My lord! My lord!" a Targaryen rider shouted as he rode up. "My lord, the left wing has collapsed. Balion Qoherys is falling back."

"Qoherys!" Orys shouted angrily. "Damn you!"

He cursed Qoherys for not holding his line longer. At least it would've given him some time to organize a retreat. Upon hearing that their left flank was gone, Orys' cavalry turned around and fled. The disorderly retreat only made it worse as the enemy army routed entire squadrons and put them to the sword. With his army deserting him and the enemy pressing in, Orys had no choice but to turn his mount around and ride for camp. All was lost, everything. Unless a miracle happened then this entire invasion was about to go down.

And then he suddenly heard it; three powerful roars. Soldiers on both sides stopped fighting and looked up at the skies as Aegon unleashed his dragons. The tide was about to turn.

"You see Loren?" Mern remarked happily as the two observed the battle on a small mound overlooking the battlefield. "No problem at all."

Loren smiled but said nothing. Maybe he had worried for nothing after all. The battle had just started and it seems the Targaryen force was already routing. Reports flew in every minute as scouts described the latest news on the fight. Harrow Meadows had smashed Balion Qoherys and was now chasing him down. On the left Bailey Marbrand had just broken through Orys Baratheon's line and was making for the enemy command center. It seems all was well.

"Argilac was a fool to lose to this boy," Mern said as he waved for his attendants. A young man ran up and opened the leather pouch he was carrying. Loren took a look and found it was full of apples.

It seems he still has the appetite to eat, Loren thought to himself as he watched Mern pick one out and took a bite. By the time Loren turned his attention back to the battle, another scout had rode up.

"What is it?" Mern asked through a mouthful of apples.

"Your Grace, Aegon Targaryen has deployed his reserves," the scout replied.

"Is that so," Mern mused as he threw down the apple and pulled out his sword.

"What are you doing?" Loren asked curiously.

"When in doubt, ATTACK!" Mern pointed his sword forward and rode off towards the battle with his captains hot on his heels. Loren sighed; Mern was also the impatient one.

"Should we go with him?" one of his captains asked.

"Go with him? Are you mad?" Loren snapped. "Why get my armor stained when we can see the action from here? Stay where you are!"

Soon Mern and his battle standard disappeared into the mass of men. By this time the battle was pretty much over and Loren was sure of a victory when the unexpected happened. Three powerful roars caused him to jump and look up at the sky. To his surprise he saw three gigantic winged beasts flying straight towards his army. The dragons must be Aegon's reserves. His men immediately broke down into discussion.

"Look at the size of that thing!"

"That can swallow an entire auroch!"

"What are they doing?"

That last question was soon answered when the first jet of fire erupted from one of the dragon's mouth. Screams of men immediately went up in the air. Loren watched in horror as men were cooked alive inside their metal armor. The army was now fleeing back in a panicking mob and that made it all the more easier for them to be destroyed. Aegon and his dragons were circling above the battlefield, creating gigantic rings of fire that trapped hundreds of men and beast. Horses galloped back with no rider. Men were scattering in every single direction. Everywhere Loren looked he could see charred remains of knights and horses.

"Mern, Mern!" Loren shouted as he frantically scanned the battlefield for the King of Reach in his green battle armor. He saw the large battle standard of Mern riding back towards him and let out a sigh of relief. But suddenly it was consumed by a gigantic fireball.

"He's dead Your Grace!" someone shouted. "We have to move now!"

Loren looked around and saw most of his cavalry had already fled. Only a few loyal generals and captains still surround him.

"We have to assume the worst Your Grace," someone else said. "If we don't run now it will be too late!"

In the end his men had to force him to turn around and leave. They made for Bitterbridge but found the castle sealed. "Open the gate!" Ser Merwyn Sarsfield of Sarsfield yelled. "The King of the Rock is here!"

"Piss off!" one of the soldiers on the guard tower yelled back. "If we let you in we'll be cooked alive by the Targaryens."

"We've got nowhere to go!" Tygar Crakehall of Crakehall cried out in despair.

"We can go to Longtable," someone suggested.

"No," Merwyn said. "Aegon will be sure to make for Longtable next. Your Grace we need to cross the Mander and make for Goldengrove. From there we can go to Silverhill and the Westerlands."

Loren, still in shock, could muster no response and only nodded.

Orys Baratheon inspected the battlefield and felt his heart drop at the sight of burnt men, their bodies still smoking. Close to four thousand enemy soldiers were burned alive by Aegon's dragons. Swaths of beautiful grassland were now smoking piles of dust. The entire battlefield smelled like burnt meat, iron, and leather. All of this made Orys want to vomit. The sights of the dead knights were the most gruesome. The fire had melted their armor and fused the iron with their bodies. When he stepped on their limbs, it cracked.

Amid the carnage Orys found the burnt battle standard of King Mern. The flag was long gone but the iron pole inlaid with jewels was still there. Not far away he saw Mern himself lying face down on the ground. The King of the Reach wasn't burned but it seems he was trampled to death. His left arm had been dislocated and both his legs completely torn off, indicating that he had been dragged a distance before thrown down. Orys found a Gardner banner that lay nearby and threw it over the dead King. Unable to see anymore, Orys returned to camp.

That night Aegon held a feast to celebrate his victory but Orys found no appetite in any food. He withdrew to his tent and began writing a letter to Elena, the first since he left Storm's End. My Dearest Elena, he wrote.

I hope you are well. We had our first major victory today, but it is a victory with a taste of defeat. We were eleven thousand strong when we departed Storm's End, now we are less than six. But we won and that is perhaps all that matters.

Today was the first time I saw all three dragons in action. People say they wish they can see the power of dragons but believe me there is nothing more horrifying than seeing men burn alive right before your own eyes. Everytime I close my eyes I can hear their bloodcurdling screams and it sends shivers down my spine. I will never forget what I have seen here today.

We are marching for Longtable the day after tomorrow. From there we will make for Highgarden and the King hopes Reach will fall by year's end. If all goes well I shall be home with you next year. Worry not about me, I am alive and well. Take good care of yourself. I miss you.

Your Loving Husband,

Orys Baratheon

Orys sighed the letter and set down his quill. He waited until the ink was dried then folded the letter and sealed it with hot wax. He called for a servant and handed him the letter, telling him to send it to Storm's End with all haste. After the servant left, Orys made his way to his bed and laid down on the soft mattress. The music of celebration danced in the air and men toasted to each other. Orys did not share their joy but still couldn't help to smile. The worst was finally over.

So here it is, the famed Field of Fire. The letter was fun, it reminds me of those soldiers in the wars writing back to their loved ones. :D