Chapter Twenty Six

…..

Hundreds of feet march to the beat as line after line of Black Guards march past her. For Delianah it feels a bit ironic. She would be lying to herself if she says that she is not nervous. In her past life, she had fought battles with her squad and team of Aurors(especially in her early years at the Department as an Auror Captain). She understands more than anyone else what it feels and means to be responsible for lives under her command. She had lost men before and the guilt never truly goes away. It was one of her reasons why she became a solo hunter of wannabe Dark Lords and real deal ones.

Now here she is in charge of eleven thousand and five hundred men, nine thousand comes from the Black Guard though a thousand has been left behind to guard Rivendell, three thousand are levies, the random brave farmer or craftsman who wants to join the fighting, three hundred are cavalry with fifty being knights, another two hundred serving as light cavalry while the remaining two hundred and fifty belongs to the newly christened Silver Wings.

Covered with ornate balance of plate and scale armor colored silver, they look menacing especially with wings at their backs. Armed with heavy spears and sabres with a modified crossbow bolt which can hold five shots before needing a reload, they are heavy cavalry basically. Their undershirts are dark blue (in honor of House Ravenclaw since everyone in the Order has an intellectual requirement in order to pass), they literally screamed rich a mile away.

The new Order is heavily inspired by the Winged Hussars back at Earth. Delianah privately wants an Order that would put to shame the Knights of this land. The Knights may swear different oaths but majority of them are just proud louts that would break an oath as easy as it would be for them to sneeze. Thus if she's going to be honest with herself, the reasoning why she made the Silver Wings is because she's feeling a little bit vindictive and has an unnatural sense of pride. A good leader after all requires "noble and courageous knights" willing to follow her. Oh and the fact that a requirement to join the Silver Wings Order is for one to be a bastard. She can almost imagine the septons and septas frothing at their mouths for this insult to their religion later.

As it is currently though, all these lives are her burden to bear.

Like a winding snake, the lines extend to the edge of the forests near the Stony Sept at the border of the Riverlands and the Crownlands. Delianah herself is at the centre flank standing aside her midnight coloured horse. For this battle, she has opted to wear additional arm greaves made of metal and a blood red plumed helmet atop her head alongside a blood red jerkin with chain mail covering and a corset of light plate. Thigh high hard leather boots cover her pants and the metal boots of hers rise to her knees to protect her calves. Currently however said helmet is off in order for the men to see her and boost (the already high) morale(it's pretty hard not to thanks to loyalty potions and the "blessing" of the old gods).

"Well they're quite a lot aren't they?" the carefree voice of Amelia sounds beside her makes Delianah thurn to the new Castellan wearing the familiar black plate and chain mail armor that the Death Dealers use. The only difference of her attire is that it is more form fitting, holding a woman's body shame instead of a man. At her side is a jagged sword that looks more than a saw rather a sword. The Green Men have relics like that from their time before her. As she eyes the weapon, she's got a feeling that said blade starts the life as a teeth of some kind of creature if the ragged edges are to be taken into account.

Amelia's mood sufficed it to say turns a complete one eighty out of the desire for vengeance to gleeful justice once the news got out that the Army of the Reach was decimated after Delianah prayed to the old gods' for support. While the "godly support" did fully cement the faith of the Old Gods' in her territories, the fanatical view of the Green Men towards her seemed to had quadrupled. Now she can't even walk in Rivendell without someone falling on their faces at her very presence.

"Hmm," Delianah simply hums in response as she stares at the opposing field in front of them.

While fully confident in her own magic and power, part of the former wizard can't help but be unnerved at the sight facing her. The army from the Crownlands with Reach remnant support and fresh levies sent from other Reach Houses to aid Randyll's survivors thanks to the "Awakening of the Old gods" last she heard are almost eighteen thousand in number. That's almost double hers. Stretching out from one end of the plain to the other, they almost looked like locusts. Compared however to the rather neat formations of the Black Guard, the "Holy Army" however is a giant chaotic mass that looks barely in order. Delianah would bet that the only reason they are even in the slightest form of discipline is due to Randyll Tarly's presence. This is a very different battlefield compared to Pyke, one that Delianah admits is her first time of participating. A direct confrontation between two large armies.

"I'm surprised Lady Amelia that you have not protested to my plan with me leading the charge," Delianah speaks out still staring at the Reach and Crownlands forces combined.

To her surprise, her bodyguard only laughs at her words. "I have full faith in you my lady. I have seen you transform a land of nothing into the richest and most self-sustaining land in this continent. I have seen you work wonders and wield powers that only our gods must have blessed you. I have seen you call to them and they answered you with power and strength," she smirks rather crazily at her. "Wherever you lead I will follow, whatever you say, I will do and I will not question,"

"I see," Delianah mentally sweatdrops. She makes a mental note to have a long talk with Amelia later on before she becomes one of the non-thinking drones whose only goal is to kiss the very ground she walks on. She needs some mature companion, damnit (and that's not only because Amelia has an amazing rack and ass).

With a wordless nod at Amelia, Delianah mounts her grey colored mount. Normally she would have chosen a white or a palomino tinted horse thanks to her status as a Dame. Not today though. Standing out baudy colors are just like signaling your enemy to take pot shots at you. Besides she only has like a dozen white horses in her entire territory combined and she'd rather not have them dead before their time.

Turing her attention to the gathered army of Rivendell, Delianah takes a deep breath, closing her eyes before looking at each and every one of them. Covered in their signature scale black armor and leathers, with the signature Unsullied helmet of the Black Guard, the army looks very professional. It is plain obvious however in her eyes that most of them are afraid. She can't blame them. Who would not be afraid when facing odds such as they are today? While some of the Black Guard are purely from Unsullied stock, majority of them are not and recruited from either Westerosi or Essosi citizens that applied. Now the truth about their decision to join up is facing them head on and they are afraid. More than anyone, Delianah understands them for she had been on their shoes more times than se can count.

"Soldiers of Rivendell!" her voice rings loud and true (especially with the "Sonorous" spell) in use else might never have been heard. Normally she would never be brazen with the use of magic. With the "Awakening of the Old gods" however, everyone is still high about miracles. Plus there's also the fat tha they are rather occupied with the opposing army facing them and jittery as hell. She can get away with out of the world performances for now. The men are silently looking for reassurance and Delianah is more than happy to oblige.

"I know and understand that most of you are afraid and you have a right to be. In front of us is an army a hundred thousand strong (had to put the hyperbole in thick for this one). They are stronger than us, faster than us, fiercer than us," she pauses for effect as every face in the vicinity are looking at her in disbelief and more than one has accidentally pissed themselves in fear.

"But we are not afraid and we will not back down against this mighty foe. Do you know why? They are driven by whips and scourges of priests of gods that do not even care for them. They come here they say for their gods, I say nay, they come rather here searching for gold, for land, for…..slaves!" She pauses as she can see the former slaves from Essos rather burning with rage now. "They are raiders, bandits, marauders hiding in the thin veil of propriety and knighthood. They hold no loyalty to a cause, no conviction to stand on what is right and they have no honor!" A few angry shouts are heard as the entire army ripples affected by her words.

"Unlike you brave men and women of Rivendell. Here you stand in this barren plain, Eleven thousand five hundred strong. This is where you are now. So steady your hearts and keep your feet planted on the ground. It is alright to feel fear but it is not a reason to back down. There is no courage without fear. Out of the entire continent, only us stand against this blight that has come to destroy us because we are different. Each and every one of you in this great army here is a volunteer. Each of you here, a father, a brother, a son, a daughter, a wife, a husband each of you is here not for me but for Rivendell. Rivendell is not a place or a land. Rivendell is you and each one of you today carries Rivendell with you. Than makes all of us brothers and sisters. There is no me here today. All of us are Rivendell together. So look to the person beside you for he is your brother or sister today. Each of you carries Rivendell's heart, dream and future. So I ask of you today men and women of Rivendell. Will you stand against those that want to destroy the Rivendell inside you? Are you willing to die with you family at your side? Are you willing to fight? I am Delianah Tully, Dame, the First of my kind, former bastard and now Lady of Rivendell. I choose to fight! Will you fight beside me today? Will you die with me men and women of Rivendell!?" Delianah finishes her words with a shout, the Valyrian Spear, Aeglos forged from Red Rain and Nightfall raised high above her head.

Complete silence greets her.

The burning sensation on her cheeks grows as the first trickle of embarrassment rises. For a moment she feels like a fool and wonders if she has botched it up. She admits it is an impromptu one (which is not one of Harry's finest moments before).

"Hermione would box my ears if she was here," she mentally sweatdrops with a gulp.

Then it comes, a thud, then another, and another, and another. Like a tidal wave, a symphony of shouts and cheers erupt all over the Black Guard lines. Delianah smiles, feeling the embarrassment slowly wash away as she stares at the faces of the soldiers now. The fear is still there and the nervousness. There is however a determination that is not present before. A light on each of their eyes that indicate that they would follow her to the depths of hell if she asks them to. Delianah smiles brightly. She would not betray their trust.

Putting her helmet atop her head, Delianah raises her spear and pulls her horse by its hind legs in front of everyone. It would be a painting that many would be looking at for a thousand generations later for the entire world to see and remember.

"For Rivendell! WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS!"

"WE PREVAIL!" the answer comes out from throat to throat until eleven thousand five hundred throats are shouting it, the new House saying of Rivendell.

Wasting no more time, Delianah urges her horse riding towards the right flank. Soldiers cheer and raise their spears in salute as she rides past them. Their shouts of confidence are music to her ears. With a morale such as this, Delianah can feel the last doubts within herself vanish about her plan.

While she maintains a façade of confidence and strength in the inside for propriety, inside she is worried. With her plan and leading, she is responsible for every life here. It is a dangerous gamble, war is and if they lose here, there would be no more second battle.

The sound of heavy footfalls behind her makes Delianah looks back to see the Silver Wings, Two hundred and fifty strong following her. Their wings make them stand out like a sore thumb on the battlefield. Nodding at Captain Appo, their leader, she urges her horse forward to the right on a steady gallop till reaching the rightmost part. They are soon joined also by the heavily armored knights with Ser John leading it.

"John go!" Delianah calls out to the knight who nods raising a horn to his mouth before letting off a ringing blast.

Instantly the light cavalry joins them, moving behind Delianah, their greater numbers nearly camouflaging the wings of the Winged Ravens. Leading them rightward, Delianah takes a glance at the enemy army. She smiles beneath her helmet as she sees a plume of dust as she can espy the enemy cavalry responding to her rightward movement by deploying their own cavalry at her direction.

…

Rivendell Centre Line!
"Ready!" Draco calls out loudly as the soldiers around him grimly lowers their spears.

The Rivendell Centre is composed mostly of large infantry heavily supported by bow and crossbow divisions from the Homesteads. Equipped with two meter long hardened ash tip spears, the entire front lines are one massive wall of death designed specifically to hold the enemy at bay as long as possible, They would be the bulward against the Crownlanders and Reachers.

"Trumpets! Cadence! Sound off!" roars Draco as the trumpeters immediately sound off a continuous one two that makes the entire center march forward in a steady march facing the darkened mass in front of them.

Draco would be lying if he says that he is not afraid. Contrary to popular belief, Unsullied dos feel fear. They fear however the whips more thus their "no fear attitude" when it comes into gripping with death.

Currently however Delianah's speech is still ringing true inside his heart and he would be damned if he or any of his men break rank and ran. Her goddess demands no less. She is right; each and everyone of them is Rivendell and the hopes of an entire future relies heavily on his shoulders. Thus he strengthens his resolve and marches with the army. This is his choice as a free man.

Without warning the sky darkens and Draco knows what it is immediately.

"TAKE COVER! SHIELDS!"

Arrows fell like rain all around and Black Guard men too slow to react in time immediately go down either dead or badly wounded. The wiser ones manage to hide on their circular shields but even then they are not fully protected as the rain of arrows hit the occasional arm or foot. The rain lasts barely seconds but now there are men all over the centre lines groaning or calling out in pain. Draco simply grits his teeth as he urges the line to move forward again ignoring the dead or dying. It won't do to have the entire line stall for a paltry few.

As he faces forward again, Draco can't help but gulp at the sight of their next challenge.

"I really do hate knights!" he thinks to himself as he watches the enemy individual units rushing towards them.

…..

Southern Holy Army Main Command

Normally it would gall someone like Randyll Tarly to sit inside a carriage. He is a military man after all through and through. However after the disaster that lost him nearly twelve thousand men in one afternoon, Randyll has no choice but to sit inside a carriage as he allows his right leg to heal. He might have dodged death there by falling off his horse, but one of the pale ones managed to get a nice chunk of meat from his leg, making him unable to walk. At least he's able to walk still since it'll recover after the next few months according to the Maesters.

Here he is right now however leading the invasion by forces compromised of Reachmen heavily reinforced after the Inquisitor of this army asked even more aid from the South, almost the entirety of the Crownland forces are also marshaled here after answering the High Septon's call. Now here they are facing the levies and forces of Rivendell.

Randyll isn't sure how to feel to be back on the field. On one hand though he'll deny it to the point of death, he is deathly afraid of what happened to him before when those strange creatures from the deepest pits of hell appeared and destroyed his men without ado. On the other hand, this is what he is born for, to lead men into battle and victory. To bring glory to his house and to his liege lord, or in this case, his faith. He might be afraid and wary of the unseen, but currently Randyll is not fighting the unseen, no. He is fighting instead soldiers he can see, and that he can handle. He just has to keep an eye for any magic voodoo fuckery these tree huggers might conjure. He after all has the blessing of the Seven who are One with him.

The Inquisitor leading this army is no idiot also like the one leading the Reach before. Unlike previously, he instead personally assigns Randyll Tarly as commander of the army due to his experience on military matters. For that Randyll can be grateful. It is one thing to charge an enemy blindly believing that faith will carry you to victory. It is another however to use the intellect the gods give to man and to use it wisely and gain victory. Randyll is the latter.

Thus here he is in his carriage of shame watching the battle unfold ahead of him.

With him heavily outnumbering the forces of the heathens, Randyll has opted for the direct charge putting effort in sheer force of numbers to break their line. Whoever the enemy commander apparently is not that bright. Instead of forming heavy staggered lines in order to counter the weight of such heavy numbers of opponents, she has instead formed narrow ranks making the lines extremely thin and vulnerable to heavy charge of infantry. No competent commander at Westeros would entrust his levies to fully hold the line. Knights, maybe, but peasants? Once the real fighting starts, they'll break faster than a twig being snapped in half.

He can't help but scoff also at the rather pathetic attempt of an outflanking of the cavalry at his left side. Normally a cavalry charge would be used at the start of the battle in an attempt to dislodge the enemy main ranks or send them fleeing whence then the infantry can mop up. Horses can also be used for flanking but only in secret and without the enemy command noticing. To put on display a rather obvious outflanking maneuver is the rookiest of mistakes. However even rookies can get lucky and that's why he deploys the larger part of the holy army's cavalry to counter it.

Now all that is needed is to break the enemy's ranks in the matter of minutes and hopefully achieve victory on this field in the next hour.

…..

Rivendell Left Lines

Leomord gulps nervously as beads of sweat pour in buckets inside his ornate armor even with Westeros' cold weather thanks to the aftereffects of the False Winter. He is one of the five Silver Orders left on this part of the army. Apparently the levies are stationed here and in order to keep morale, thus he and five others of his Order are stationed here. It would do good apparently for the rank and file to see the "chosen ones" of the Order, the elites present on the battlefield.

As it is, it is his first major battle and he can't help the trembling of his hand at his sabre as he watches the charging masses closing in towards them. The very ground in fact is shaking as the feet of thousands hollering and charging soldiers rush toward them. He can hear his sergeant calling out speeches of courage and valor but Leomord pays him no mind as e retains the image of a nonlachant and unmoving figure atop his horse.

"Oh by the old gods, we are all going to die," he can't help but think inside as the men of the holy army draws closer and closer.

…

Rivendell Cavalry Advancing at the Right

Line after line of Light Cavalry and Silver Wings maintains a steady gallop with their horses as they discreetly eye the opposite side of the field where the Reach and Crownland cavalry are matching their speed. For Delianah, she steadies her heart at the elation that the enemy is doing exactly what she is expecting them to do. Behind, she can see almost the entire Holy Army foot soldiers charging their lines while their flanking maneuver is being countered. Still, they need to keep the pursuing cavalry entertained and focused on the flanking attack that they would be too hot blooded and frustrated to think about anything else but the clash later on.

"Pick up the pace!" Delianah shouts urging the riders to ride even harder as they increase their speed. She keeps an eye on the enemy horse and grins beneath her helmet as they also increase their own gallop in response to theirs.

….

Rivendell Centre Line

The view of heavy clad knights approaching galvanizes Draco into action immediately.

"Prepare to repel horses! Position C!" he calls out loudly giving the trumpeter the signal as he lets out several ringing sounds with different intervals.

In Black Guard training of tactics; it is drilled into its members as to how to respond to signals repeatedly that they could do it even when they are half asleep. Of course no one is happy being drilled again and again at that time. Draco would bet his missing manhood that right now the men are more than glad about the ruthless training as they respond like clockwork to the sound; their bodies moving in instinct as days of repetition insert itself.

Gangways of empty space are immediately cleared on where the horses are estimated to crash unto the lines. Men and women move fast but some are not fast enough as the first of the Knights smash into the lines of the Black Guard. Many dodge the horses, but some unlucky ones get into tangle on the lances and swords . Limbs start flying as victims cry in pain. Still the drill worked fabulously. Lines at the back ranks let down longer spears stopping dead the momentum of the knights as their horses buckle from the death traps at the front.

"Ready! Aim! Fire!" crossbow divisions formed from Homestead farmers fire point blank at the knights now trying unsuccessfully to rein their horses.

The archers are not excellent shots; this close however to their targets? The en masse shooting of the homestead dwellers are more than enough to decimate the knights that charge in advance. Riders and horses fall down dying or dead. Men immediately break ranks cutting apart the downed knights in any way they can as the front line sclose their gaps and the reserves pluck the holes as the mass of men of the Reach and Crownlands smask into them. More reserves are deployed as the entire line buckles by sheer numbers alone. Riders are pulled down and murdered, moaning men at the ground get stabbed and more than one unfortunate soul has his head bashed open by a nearby rock.

"Hold! Dress your ranks! Hold!" Dracon's voice rings out as the Black Guard are slowly being pushed back. Still by sheer will alone and a lot healthier than their enemies, the Black Guard hold their formation doing their utmost to prevent the enemy from breaking through and dissolving the entire battlefield to a general melee where surely the enemy would be able to sustain via numbers alone.

…

Rivendell Left Line

The enemy infantry smashes into the lines of spears like a juggernaut. Many are pushed back but the formations of the Black Guard are designed to specifically prevent the entire front from falling down. The line buckles hard but it does not break. Instead the spears remain steady and hundreds die on the mad rush. The Reachers and Crownlanders realizing that their chaege is leading five to ten men dying on a single spear alone tries to step back and halt the charge but to little avail. The ones at their back filled with hot blood and righteous zeal push them forward right at the awaiting jaws of the spears.

Crossbow and archer divisions also step forward adding their own input. The sound of heavy twanging and the heavier discharge of crossbows lessen the stress of the entire front. Sure the rows of spears damage a heavy deal on the Crownlanders and Reachers charge. With their momentum now gone though, the soldiers of the Holy Army snake through the gaps of the spears straight to their users, The heavy weight of the spears makes it even hard for their users to hold them for too long makes them unable to defend well against these small attacks of the Holy Army soldiers. Into these gaps, the reserve forces charge in plucking the gap as sword, axe or lance is drawn to deal with them before they could inflict heavy damage to the ranks of the spearmen that they could swarm.

Leomord joins this group and his training as a member of the Silver Order kicks in. His sabre flashes and bobs like a snake cutting down three men and wounding two others earning a bout of inspiration from those watching. At the other parts of the line, the rest of the five members of the Silver Order also deals with their own foes doing it as flashy as possible to let the entire line see making them increase their courage and resolve. Dodging another overhead smash of a Crownlander knight, Leomord swipes his sabre on his exposed throat making him gurgle on the ground. He is substituted by another skirmisher giving Leomord a second to catch his breathe.

All around him, the sounds of men dying, cursing and fighting is like a symphony of the damned. Growling through his helmet, he mentally strengthens his resolve. This is the Silver Order's first battle and he'll be damned if he survived the grueling training in order to be more than a bastard only to die here. Leomord dives right in once more as he sees another bunch of Crownlanders and Reachers trying to sneak through the rows of spears at another part of the line.

…..

Rivendell Cavalry at the Right Flank.

Delianah lets the battle rage for a full twenty minutes making sure that the enemy cavalry is totally committed and does not break off whatsoever as it continues to follow them before finally deciding that the time is right.

"SER JOHN!" her voice calls out making the head of knights look back at her from the front where he is leading alongside the Death Dealers.

With a nod from her, the knight gives off a small bow before drawing his own sword and lets off a massive war cry. Immediatley the steady gallop that the cavalry unit is doing turns into full throttle with Ser John and the fifty Knights in the lead. The cavalry of the Crownlanders and Reachers is caught off guard by the sudden acceleration responds In the same way in order to keep up with the Knights of Rivendell.

None of them notices a section of the Rivendell cavalry however slowly being left behind the main line.

Raising Aeglos above her head, Delianah immediately looks at Appo Rivers, the leader of the Silver Order and Amelia who rides at her side. Nodding at them wordlessly, she immediately makes a circling motion with her weapon before making a sharp U-Turn with her horse. Wordlessly the entirety of the Silver Order and the Light cavalry splits from the main group after her.

With the dust of the continuous gallop made before, none of the Knights from the Reach and the Crownlands notice the sudden change of direction of some of Rivendell's cavalry unit. Even if they do however they would not have cared. The Knights of Rivendell and the Death Dealers immediately clash against the main cavalry of the Reachers and Crownlanders. As Delianah looks back she grimaces seeing men and horses fell giving her the distraction she and her unit needs as they head towards the gap left behind by the main force of the Holy Army and their now absent cavalry.

She raises her spear again signaling the Silver Oder trumpeter at her side to let off a signal at Draco. Placing the thing at his lips, the trumpeter lets off a winding blast that can be heard throughout the din of the battlefield.

….

Rivendell Center Line

A steady cloud of dust almost leaves visibility to zero as the main lines of the Black Guard struggle against the continuous stream of Reachers and Crownlander leivies that slam to the picket of lances and spears. Hundreds continue to die by the minute though most come from the light armoured masses of levies as their light armor proves little to no protection against the ash tipped lances of the Black Guard. That doesn't mean that the Black Guard is winning though. Many are pulled off the lines to be hacked into pieces and some of the braver levies or men-at-arms make daring leaps through the rows of spears bashing left and right to the unprotected sides of the lancers.

"Yahhh!" Draco growls as he stabs his short sword at the chest of a soldier not removing the blade until the man is dead before looking around.

With the numbers of the Crownlanders and Reachmen seemingly endless, the once strong line of spearmen and lancers that make up the entirety of the Black Guard front line are now filled with gaps. Into these holes, Draco orders the reserves of skirmishers and whatever units of light cavalry that can be spared to prevent their enemy from breaching permanently.

The bounty hunters and mercenaries for hire under the command of Julius, head of the Bounty Hunting Guild are very useful. Unlike the Black Guard which rely heavily on formations and positioning, these people fight like bastards and basically revel in close quarters combat. Standing side by side with lancers and spearmen, they hack and slash with glee giving the less skilled skirmishers the breathing space needed between each fight.

Draco sees one of the Guild's member, a long haired pillock wielding a club two handed smack and whack a poor farmer wielding an axe as if there's no tomorrow. Another seems to have lost his weapon and has opted instead to use a nearby rock to bash the head of a downed Reacher knight at the ground. One of the Guild skirmishers seems to make it his personal mission to stab whatever Reacher or Crownlander to stupid to not watch his back. All around the line, more scenes like this are playing out as the Guild members try to shore the buckling line to prevent it from breaking.

Then out of nowhere, Draco hears it. A ringing sound that ends in a high beat.

"The signal, finally!" he mentally breathes a sigh of relief not at being saved, no. He is former Unsullied, Unsullied does not know fear. Rather it's because the plan of his goddess is finally coming to fruitition.

He raises a hand to his own trumpeter to let off a blasting note that signals the reserves that have been held at the back before to finally move.

"Commander! We need to get the line back else we will lose the entire army here," shouts one of his sergeants.

Draco growls at the panicky Sergeant.

"Damn these soft Westerosi!" he had been forced to fast track their training due to the demand of the Black Guard being needed for battle which gave him less time to mold them into the unbending metal he wished them to be.

"We don't need forever Sergeant! We hold the line!" he replies at the panicking soldier.

The reserved skirmishers composed mostly of Bounty Hunters and Sellswords with a scattering of Black Guard sword specialists, under the command of his Lieutenant, formerly Worm wood, now named Woles rush past the fighting using the lines held by the Black Guard to catch up on foot with the Silver Order cavalrymen heading to the breach of the Holy army ranks that would not have been visible if not for his goddess heading straight at it.

"We hold the line! Skirmishers hurry up and catch up with Lady Delianah!" Draco finds himself yelling.

….

Delianah's Cavalry Unit

"Come solders of Rivendell ride! Ride as if your very lives depend on it!" Delianah calls out loudly the Silver Order and the Light Cavalry unit divisions that follow her as they ride through the dust and grass heading in an angled direction straight towards the heart of the Holy Army's main camp.

For her, she has never ridden so hard before like this as she urges the grey horse she is riding to pick up the speed as the lines of the thin enemy guards grow steadily clearer She is thankful that the trampling of thousands of men and the din of battle have hidden their rather surprise maneuver without anyone knowing the better. She knows it would not be long though before their flanking move is noticed.

She sees the skirmishers that have detached from the main army of Rivendell final up ahead, their paths with the cavalry unit under her command mixing until they are finally one unit. She espies the familiar grim faced form of Woles, Draco's Second-in-Command covered in blood running towards the hole at the enemy lines that is leading to an ornate looking carriage at the middle.

"INTO THE HOLE! SOLDIERS OF RIVENDELL CHARGE!" Delianah's voice hoarsely shouts as she urges the Silver Order and the Light Cavalry forward.

"Storm Clouds! Fire and Steel! Death from above make our enemy kneel! Shining armor and wings! Death from above! It's an army of KINGS!" every member of the Silver Order sings without warning, their battle lances dipping forward.

The Cavalry unit of the Silver Order and the Light Cavalry slams like a battering ram to the small line of Reachers and Crownlanders that guard the Commander of the Holy Army. All that is between them and Randyll Tarly and the Inqusitior is a retinue of men and knights with only a small division of cavalry that looks more ceremonial than anything else. She can see from her vantage point Randyl Tarly looking suddenly alarmed as out of nowhere, the battle is right in front of him.

For Delianah herself she does not waste time as the Silver Order and the Light Cavalry advance ahead taking opportune in their momentum.

Raising her hand forward, she immediately reaches inward feeling the part of her that is always connected to her identity as the Mistress of Death, one that governs souls, and releases them if she so desires and with the consent of whomever she is calling. Her voice echoes like a thousand voices melding into one that can be heard by all:

"When the clarion call is sounded, you will ride out and fight in the name of liege and lady.

That which is sacrament you shall preserve.

That which is sublime you will protect.

That which threatens you will destroy.

For your holy wrath will knows no bounds.

Honor is all!

Chivalry is all!

Awake and rejoice for I call you thee, the Knight of the Dawn to be my shield!"

Like a thunderbolt, the very sky opens and for a moment the battlefield is lulled to silence as a knight riding a horse as white as marble. His face is uncovered thanks to the helm covering it, but nobody can mistake the iconic golden armor with a white cloak he is wearing gleaming majestically in the noonday sun. Only one set of knights wear that same armor and they are all unfortunately guarding the king at King's landing. The sword at his hand blazed with holy fire and even the dumbest soldier knows what it is, for only one man stands at the pinnacle of Knighthood and the entirety of Westeros knows his name.

"DAWN! DAWN! DAWN!" the cheer from the entire Rivendell lines echo. "DAWN HAS COME FOR US ALL!"

Like thunderbolt, the white cloaked rider slams together from the heavens with the charge of the Silver Order cracking open like an egg as the Holy Army's ranks ran in utter fear. Many still though remained and despite the golden knight leading the others into a frenzy of steel and blade, they hold their lines in a last ditch effort to protect their lord stuck on the slow moving carriage attempting to escape.

Delianah herself does not waste time skewering a man before knocking another off his horse with her spear. Her momentum slows down as she blocks a swipe with the middle of her spear from one of the enemy cavalrymab that snucks on her side. A silent banishing spell from her free hand sends him flying.

In the din of battle she does not see however one of the men-at-arms jumo out of nowhere and stabs her right upper thigh with a knife pinning her leg to the saddle. As it is Delianah is unable to stop the scream of pain that leaves her lips as she is pushed down to the ground. Hands immediately grapple her helmet trying to pull it off and Delianah amidst the growls and grunts grabs the knife hidden at her right forearm. Just in time too for she barely manages to pull it out when her helmet is pried off and he head might have been bashed open with it when a grey clad rider in rusted leathers slices the mans hand right off its forearm leaving a bloody stump. Delianah does not take the distreaction for granted as she pushes herself up and slams the knife at the chest of her would-be-murderer before picking up her fallen spear that has fallen at the side when she fell.

A wild yell makes Delianah ready in a guard stance as another axe wielding man bearing the sigil of a Crownlander rushes at her only to be felled when another grey clad rider in the same hard boiled leather appears and runs the man over.

Delianah just blinks as more of these leather clad horsemen appears out of nowhere and are dispatching Crownlanders left and right alongside the Silver Order and her own soldiers. Her eyes laid on the sigil at their shields.

"Why in the world is House Bolton here?" she wonders to herself even as the entirety of her magic slowly strengthens her entire being. The Holy Army is barely hanging on but it is obvious that they are still far from routed.

The mentallic scent of blood clogs the air and curtains of dirt and smike fills almost everything. Even in her vantage point, Delianah can barely see the concealing knots, clumps, ranks and battalions of thrashing bodies around her. Overhead the scavengers sound out their pleasure as men below them hack each other to pieces.

Wielding her spear one handed and a flaming whip at her next hand, Delianah brings it down first at the head of a knight so hard it cracks his skull through his helmet. Moving faster than any man without magic can, she uses her added strength to and agility to splinter shields with single blows from her fire whip. Bodies are rent and the crack of weapons are heard as the Valyrian made spear Aeglos makes a mockery of castle forged steel. No one can stop her as she fell man after man.

The men that followed her, Silver Order knights, Black Guard, Bounty Hunters, Death Dealers and the one angry farmer form a defensive circle to cover her flanks to prevent the Dame from being attacked at the sides. Rushing a group of three men, se knocks aside their spears with her whip and jabs her spear forward like a biting snake. One of the soldiers however is more skilled and while Delianah is busy poking holes at his comrades', he darts forward making the Dame pause as his spear catches her left arm. Moving past the pain, Delianah knocks aside his weapon before swiping the spear at his throat leaving a gurgling mess behind.

Delianah does not know how long she has been fighting. She just knows that she is already sore and weary with a dozen minor injuries to her. Her right thigh is ablaze with pain from the stab wound and her left arm is almost numb thanks to the number of times it is used to block attacks and the damage before. A cut is also at her temple blinding Delianah's right eye as blood pours from it and covering part of her face crimson.

Then she hears it, a pure ringing trumpet sound as another army appears at the hills overlooking the battle plains where men struggle and die. This one however carries the banners of the Crowned stag in a yellow field. The man leading them has his signature dour expression well-known for being the brother of the king, Stannis Baratheon has arrived with the levies of Dragonstone with him at its head. He raises the horn again throwing a ringing note into the air before leading his men to the left flank of the Reachers and Crownlanders trying to breach the main left line of the Black Guard.

The result is immediate.

"RETREAT! RETREAT! WE ARE BEING OUTFLANKED!" the panicked cries of the Reachmen and Crownlanders sound out as the cavalry of Stannis Baratheon cleaves on their left flank enveloping the steady wild charge it has been putting a pressure on the Black Guard lines.

Forcing both of her eyes to open despite one colored crimson red, Delianah manages to espy Randyll Tarly making a run for it inside his carriage wearing his most terrified face as he looks in fear at the golden visage of the Sword of the Morning cleaving men, left, right and center with Dawn.

The charge of her and her companions also she notices have closed the distance far too close for comfort to the leader of the Holy Army. Thus like any coward, the Inquisitor ran leaving the recovering Randyll Tarly to his fate. As he ran of course,the entirety of the reserves at the back ran with him, especially with their army being assailed at all sides. Fear like courage after all is contagious. There's nothing more worse for an already panicking army than for its commanders to ran, and this one ran hard.

Delianah just chuckles as she dry heaves before falling on her knees. Her entire body feels stiff and tired that she barely manages to keep the grip she has on her spear. The fire whip she had conjured also snuffed out of commission as her magic finally exhausted itself. As it is though she continues chuckling as she hears the cheers of victory from the warriors of Rivendell echoing around her.

"What a day," Delianah thinks to herself as she can feel the aches cover her entire body. She might have been hailed as Harry the Great in her previous life due to her putting down Dark Lords, but never in her entire life both now and before to be tired and stressed out as this.

Battles back home despite being destructive are short and simply last minutes, not hours. It is also not filled with blood, gore and pieces of men flying all around you like a shower. Even the Battle of Hogwarts which is the only large scale battle that Delianah experienced was not as massive and bloody as this. In a way, this was her first time experience, not counting the raid massacres against the Ironborn. There they were facing pocket groups of sleepy and surprised men, not an entire army fed and ready.

This was her first war and she was not in a hurry to repeat it anytime soon despite the cheats she made. She would need even more ways later to improve her lands and her chances to win battles or even discourage them. For now, she would rest.

Lithe arms suddenly grip her armpits as she sways unsteadily. If not for her feeling deathly tired, Delianah might have introduced whoever it is to her spear. As it is she just grunts as she is forced to a steady position. Opening her left eye, she lets off a small smile as she face of a blood covered Amelia meets her with the dirty form of Myrcella holding a sabre dressed in Black Guard leathers. Beside Amelia and Myrcella looking a lot cleaner than the two other girls combined with an embarrassed grin is Rhaenys wearing the same attire as the latter of the two. Delianah does not miss the two swords strapped at her back instead of one.

"We won," Amelia simply says engulfing Delianah in a hug before realizing what she is doing as she retracts and instead bows.

"Yes, yes we did," Delianah sighs as she smiles at the three other girls. Later she might scream herself hoarse at Myrcella and Rhaenys for sneaking out to join the army, but for now, she will let them feel the joy of victory.

They certainly deserve it.

The sound of horses approaching however makes Delianah turn to see the banners of House Bolton, and that of Stannis Baratheon slowly approaching her position. She mentally sighs as she straightens her back.

The regular soldier might celebrate the end of a battle and that will be the end of it. For the lords and ladies however, the game of politics goes on. It is boring and tiring, but hey, if you can read minds, it is pretty easy to turn such long winded sessions into fun ones. Especially when you are dealing with dour lords like Stannis Baratheon.

…

Author's Note: Hi beloved readers and Citizens of Rivendell at Westeros. I'm sorry for the long wait. Still dealing with personal issues. Sorry, Can't update day by day anymore. I'll try my best to post every now and then. Anyway hope you enjoy this chapter.