Chapter Forty-Seven
Two Years since Delianah's Expedition Around the World
….
"We push forward, onward men!"Edmure calls out as he eggs his company of two hundred men against the small castle.
It is more like a fort instead of a castle in fact since it only has a low wall as high as three men lumped together. Merrygate belongs to a landed knight of the Riverlands named Ser Piere. The knight has been killed alongside with his family and his retainers are driven off by the Ironborn raiders allied with some pirates from the Stepstones that have made landfall on the West. Of course since Merrygate is subject under Seagard of Lord Mallister, it falls to Edmure to answer the call leading some of House Tully's Riverguard with almost a hundred fifty Mallister men-at-arms for support against the small fort.
As it is though, the attack is completely not going well. The Ironborn is of course using the traditional spear and bows to fight off the Riverlanders, something that they can deal with via shields. The Stepstone pirates however are using slings and they are very good at it. Stones almost invisible strike down against the Riverlanders making most of them stone shy under the bombardment. Of course since the fort is set on the highest part of a slope, the pirates roll down large stones catching the Riverlanders off guard, messing many up as bones are broken.
A large stone, the size of his body (an effigy probably of the first lord of the fort) is thrown and the Riverlanders panicked as more than ten men are thrown off their fee. The attack has broken the wall of shields leaving a couple or so wounded behind as they fell back a couple of paces to avoid the hail of arrows and stones on the gap.
One brave pirate, probably a lieutenant jump off the small wall rushing to the wounded and cutting off the head of one man. Taking the fallen man's helmet to himself, he rushes back to his comrades with cheers and jeers against the defenders.
"Single formation!" marshal Erik, the commander of the small band of Mallister men shouts urging his men once more forward. A stone comes out of nowhere and clangs his head sending him immediately to the ground, blood pooling all over his helmet.
Rushing at his side, Edmure checks for vitals only to grimace at the result. He is among the dead now and there's nothing Edmure can do about it. He growls though at the direction of the Fort. These raiders will pay.
"Men with me!" he roars picking up one of the missed spears used by the Ironborn. He stares at his target, the man who has murdered one of the injured before hurling the spear with all his might.
The weapon sails cleanly on the air. His target barely manages to recognize the danger he is currently in before the spear lodged itself into his thigh making him wail before falling back on his side of the wall.
"Javelins up!" a very familiar voice commands making Edmure turn and smile despite his dust and blood covered form at the sight of his wife.
"Amelia, I do not expect to see you here," he beams happily at the sight of her in full Death Dealer garb with about fifty of the Black Guard forming up on the front ranks of his men.
"And I do not expect that it would take you this long to deal with dirty pirates only," answers Amelia drawing her crossbow. "I have half-expected that you would be done by now,"
"Sorry," he grins at her toothily. He has been with her enough to know that his beloved wife is probably better than him in almost all fields.
"Fine, let's finish this day. Your father is looking for you," she replies before marching to the second line behind the shields. "JAVELINS UP!"
With a wordless move, the Black Guard forms into familiar disciplined lines before moving forward shield to shield against the arrows and the stones. The men of Rivendell follows closely behind, a little more undisciplined compared to their Eastern Counterparts.
"Launch!" she barks out and immediately the second line launches their spears at the raiders who does not expect the barrage of heavy weapons, their light armor serving them none. Disorganized from the first barrage, the first line breaks shield cover and launches also their javelins quickly followed by the third line. In the matter of minutes, the majority of the enemy defenders are dead or dying.
"Swords, forward!" she then barks out much to the enthusiasm of the attackers as they draw blades getting closer and closer to the fort wall. The enemy fire is now greatly lessened making the advance a continuous one.
"Riverlanders now is your chance! Tetsudo!" she calls out the familiar call that the Riverland guards have been forced to practice by Edmure's father.
With a cheer, the Mallister men moves forward turning the familiar walking turtle shield wall even as the Black Guard disengages from the front
"Forward! Forward!" she eggs the turtle formation now braving the enemy missile fire point blank.
The enemy much to their credit does not falter and instead hurls a large stone breaking two shields and killing three men with their heads broken. Reserves however fill the gap and soon the first of the shields reached the wall. Immediately those at the back of the formation crouches down making an impromptu stair of shields heading up top to the wall.
A scream comes out from one of the pirates as one of the Mallister men slices his hamstring from the
"Forward!" Amelia commands once more and the Riverlanders need no more urging. Their spirits are revived at the sight of near victory and desire for vengeance. With a roar, they charge up to the panicking pirates using the shields as a staircase.
"How long do you think before we manage to retake the fort?" asks Edmure at Amelia who is watching the slaughter take place.
"At the rate they are going? Five minutes maybe," she simply shrugs at him.
…..
Riverrun,Riverlands
"For Edmure! For the heir!" the cheers erupt from the different heirs of the houses of the Riverlands as they raise their mugs to an embarrassed Edmure.
Hoster (AKA James Potter's second life), raises his mug also in acknowledgement to his son. It's almost like a lifetime when he first resurrected in this body and takes the place of a very dead Hoster Tully. Now he sees the results of his actions ever since he first comes to life. Gone is the waif of a wastrel that is his son from before. Now here stands a proper heir to Riverrun, one that has the respect of his bannermen.
Hoster in his previous life is never given the chance to raise his own son. With Edmure, he believes that he has make up for his lack of presence at least. Sure Edmure does not have talent of either magic, politics or craft. In fact the young man is someone who just cares. Dead Hoster Tully sees that as a weakness and often berates the young man, destroying whatever passion that he has deep inside. Thus his sudden turn to vices like women and drinking. He simply has never been given the chance to shine. Passion is powerful if properly cultivated and guided; and even the most mediocre of people can grow into something if they really put their minds into it.
Thankfully Rivendell is a place which forges the most weak of men into a version of their best. The Lady of Rivendell after all demands no less.
Personally Hoster doesn't expect much for Edmure when he first sent him there even buffed up in confidence and courage potions. He half expected the young man to give up halfway through. At least he would be able to learn some hard lessons about life and man up a bit. Color Hoster surprised that not only does Edmure survive, he in fact thrives. Falling to the Castellan of Rivendell apparently ignited a fire in him that is not there before.
At first of course Hoster has been concerned. He does not want Delianah to murder Edmure for accidentally ruining one of her plans. It is pathetically obvious to all that the Lady of Rivendell does not look equally to her less than successful brother. Once more she surprises him by not only supporting his desire to win Amelia over, but even encouraging it. Suffice it to say that Hoster now sees the wisdom in her actions.
Edmure for all his growth and dedication is still a bit brash and rough around the edges, courtesies of the past him before. Amelia present in his life not only gives him constant inspiration, she also smooths over things that Edmure might have bitten more than he can chew. In a way, their union seems to once more heal whatever resentments between Rivendell territories and the Riverlands. All in all it seems to be working and the life of his heir is getting better. It's even a bonus since he is happy because of it.
Hoster stares at the assembled heirs of Riverrun now partying together as they clapped the back of Emdure while boasting on their own deeds. When he first arrived here, sights such as these is impossible. Riverrun is a country with half its feet in total destruction with House Tully barely having the necessary influence nor power to challenge its rivals. The Freys make it a habit of being late on whatever Hoster orders them to do and the Mallisters has many of the smaller houses indebted to it. Both can challenge Riverrun no problem when it comes to terms of wealth. For the life of him, he has no idea why Hoster let things deteriorate as such.
For the first time in his life, James Potter thanks his lucky stars for his tutelage about the old traditions of the Wizarding World. It has served him well. In an aristocracy like this one after all, there are only three ways to hold power; wealth, influence or military might. The Starks, Martells and the Arryns ruled by influence, respect gained by their name throughout the long years. The Lannisters and the Tyrells ruled by wealth, having massive monopolies that keep their income generated. The Baratheons and the Targaryens ruled by military might, their very strength at arms or former dragons giving them the respect and prestige that they need.
House Tully does not have an ace in wealth or even influence, thus Hoster chooses the Roman way, might makes right.
Unlike his former son, now daughter, Hoster has no desire to bring pieces of heaven unto Earth as the cities of Delianah tend to be. He has no want in to break the current aristocracy or even change much for that matter. His time here after all is limited. What he can make sure though is secure the family name for Edmure having a capable military and in retrospect, secure Delianah's Western Border. The problem is that the Riverlands at its entirety can only muster about fifteen to twenty thousand men. Add the problem of the Freys and the Mallisters to the mix and he'll be lucky to call on seven thousand.
Still seven thousand is something that Hoster can work with. The Romans at the start of their strength after all is neither the greatest nor the richest when they fielded the best army of the ancient world.
…..
Outside Rivendell
Rhaenys stands frowning as she watches the line upon line of tents camped on the open fields surrounding Riverrun. The Lady Amelia has personally asked her presence here alongside that of Draco to help manage her little side project of turning these farm boys and fisher folk into legionnaires of Riverrun. Normally it would be Amelia teaching the poor bastards how to be soldiers since she's the one invested in this due to being married to Edmure but she is currently stuck on the castle to "enjoy the festivities" after driving off the pirate scum.
Rhaenys has absolutely no desire to train someone outside of Rivendell (and she knows Draco shares her sentiment), but the reasoning of Amelia that if they manage to strengthen the Riverlands, it would at least be a buffer in the East for Rivendell. The idea of their former enemies being used as a vanguard meat shield against any would be any enemies is highly appealing for Rhaenys to say the least.
"At least they are marching in the right direction. We should be thankful for that," Draco grunts as she and him walks past a small group being led by their drill sergeant in a jog in full armor.
"Hnn," Rhaenys simply replies as she continues observing the rows upon rows of tents. At least these poor peasants know how to put themselves into order. If pitching their tents the correct orderly way as prescribed by their commanders, they fail. Then it would be an impossible cause on trying to teach them discipline.
"Fire!" the sound of bows twanging makes the two of them turn to a large archery range where the archer units are being trained with a thin line of spearman keeping the enemies at bay while archers support them from the back.
"You have to admit that the idea of a "Legion" as the Old Tully wants it called is ingenious. Quite similar to how the Black Guard operates but more stationary and heavy handed," comments Draco as they pass a more advanced class of recruits being trained to form the tetsudo formation.
"They are being trained to be heavy troops to fight in an open battlefield and win," comments Rhaenys watching a shield wall mock fights a standard Westerosi levy charge. "Not much skill is needed to educate these men. All they need after all is to shield themselves and stab at anyone trying to break through. No need for a larger skill-set than that,"
"Yes," nods Draco. "There would be no need to call on trained men to fight. In formations such as this, all they need to is to be equipped and learn how to pull the formations thoroughly. You can call on anyone almost at this rate. Impressive, even I admit that. However such formations such as this are weak in flanking or if their formations get broken, imagine a heavy cavalry charge breaking through the wall of shields. It would be chaos,"
"Yes, yes indeed," agrees Rhaenys. "That's why Amelia is putting so much effort on making sure that their formations do not break under the heat of battle. So far the five hundred that she has sent with Edmure on routing down those pirates have proven themselves quite efficient. Still Master, tell me why are you not training them in the same fervor as you would the Black Guard or the Death Dealers?"
Draco only smiles toothily at her. "Never teach potential enemies to be greater than you my dear student,"
….
Rivendell Myrcella Private Quarters
The sound of pants echo on the white walls before finally ending with a breathy moan that is lost in the gusts of the wind that flows through the open archs. A sweat covered Myrcella Baratheon pulls her lover to her claiming those cherry red lips for her own, their naked forms meshing with one another. Another five minutes of love making follows before the two disentangles, their bodies panting before Yasmina clutches the now fifteen year old young woman to him.
The growth spurt of Myrcella Baratheon is strong under the influence of the health, aging and regenerative potions. At fifteen years old she looks closer to eighteen and nineteen physically already. Mind setting, she is probably more mature compared to the rest of her age group (not included those born in Rivendell territory of course). Of course with her growth spurt comes hormones which leads here to where she is now.
"While I would love to cuddle even more Princess Myrcella. I believe that you have duties still that needs attending to," whispers Yasmina at her collarbone.
"Five more minutes,"
"Princess,"
"Oh alright, spoilsport," she grumbles as she pushes herself up the bed before standing at the man-sized mirror at her wall making sure to clear her rather unruly hair, courtesy of post-sex.
"You know Yasmina, I would return to bed if you keep ogling my ass," Myrcella calls out as she sees through the mirror her lover eyeing her derriere with a lip bite.
"What can I say princess. It's a very impressive arse," replies the concubine making Myrcella laugh as she pulls a towel over her slender form and returning to sit on the bed making touching the Eastern beauty's face.
"I will see you tonight?" she asks at the other young woman who bits one of her fingers playfully.
"Only if I get to have liberties on that ass of yours," she replies making Myrcella chuckle before leaning in on a kiss.
Ever since her maturity, Myrcella has taken Yasmina as her lover. Not only does this give her the know-how in the art of sex and seduction that she plans on using on the Lady of Rivendell soon but it also calms down her raging hormones. Yasmina has grown into a looker and tutored as a concubine, is an all out expert in the arts of the bedroom.
In the past two years, Myrcella has been the de facto ruler of Rivendell with Amelia staying mostly at Riverrun due to her marriage with Edmure. Though she promises that she would return soon once Hoster pulls the peasants together into a standing army that would be able to protect Riverrun. At first Myrcella has been worried that she would be unable to succeed a powerful territory like Riverrun especially with all it's moving parts.
Once more she is proven wrong though. Short of making sure that the ledgers for trade and taxes are correct and signed by her, Myrcella has literally nothing to do. Delianah has designed Rivendellian territories to be self-sufficient, an oiled machine that does not need a ruler's prerogative to continue functioning. Unlike other lands, Rivendell has no minor lords, the small forts of former knights acquiescing to the rule of law under mayors of large towns and homesteads. People are content with the way things are under the watchful eye of the Black Guard and some of the newly minted Silver Wings Order members. Any sign of dissent is ruthlessly quashed and any thought of treason is completely non-existent (loyalty potions cough2x). Elder Marcus manages almost all of the things and Myrcella only volunteers herself in order to gain experience. In a way it is quite a lazy life to live. If not for her daily extracurricular activities with Yasmina, she might have been bored. Rhaenys after all goes to Riverrun with Amelia leaving her quite lonely.
"You better get dressed Yas, else you stretching like that invitingly may delay me even more," comments Myrcella as her lover stretches on the bed like a cat.
"Round Five?" Yasmina teases with blinking eyes at her. Myrcella is just ready to consider the offer when a large shadow passes over the open arch fast covering the room for a split second in darkness.
In a flash, Myrcella finds herself being pushed away from the opening side of the arch by Yasmina. Uncaring for her own nudity, the other woman has pulled out the hanging sword on the wall before facing the open arch.
"What is it?" asks Myrcella in a whisper clutching the towel to her as for the first time in her life she fears something in Rivendell.
"Something that should not be here. Why the hell are the guards not shooting?" hisses Yasmina as the quiet peace of the air is disturbed by wing beat sounds.
Myrcella only gulps as she clutches the towel to her tighter. Opening of the arch has no way up so it can't be a person. It is a sheer drop down and no one would dare climb Rivendell. Despite its serenature. It is probably one of the most heavily guarded in Westeros with the Death Dealers taking their stations zealously. So far only one thing comes to mind for Myrcella when it comes to flying things…..dragons. She's not exactly ensured about that realization. She still recalls Joffrey's favorite story of Queen Rhaenyra being fed to her nephew's dragon alive.
The sound of wind beating soon comes louder and louder and Myrcella shivers as Yasmina tightens the grip on her sword when the shadow once more looms over the archway. Color her surprised though when it is not a dragon that appears flying on the arch but a large…bird-like thing
Regal looking with trimmed feathers and fur blending on one another, the thing that flies mid-air facing them is something that Myrcella has never seen before. It has the forequarters of an eagle and the hindquarters of a lion with the tail included. It is muscular and powerful looking with an eagle head with piercing yellow eyes that glares at her with intelligence on it. It's claws looks deadly and large enough that it could rip an armor like paper. It is as big as two horses put together in steroids. All in all with a white mane and golden brown fur in color, it looks like a magnificent but bad-tempered beast if its sudden angry squawk mid-air is any indication.
It is however the now tall but young woman sitting atop it wearing a very familiar ornate backless ceremonial armor from Yi Ti that catches Myrcella's attention.
"Lady Delianah?" she asks in confusion as the Lady of Rivendell removes the shawl covering her mouth showing her happy grin.
"Cella, Yas, I have no idea why you two are naked but I am back," she calls out in a completely childish manner. "This is my friend by the way, Godric. Don't worry, he's friendly," she gestures to the angry looking flying thing who squawks again with a piercing glare which is the exact opposite of friendly.
As happy as she is at seeing Delianah, Myrcella's curiosity and fear wins out. "Lady Delianah, what is that thing?" she asks pointing at the bird-mutation.
"Him, not it," replies the happy Lady of Rivendell simply. "Godric here is a Gryphon Cella,"
…
Author's Note:
Hello Readers. Hope you like this chapter. We will be drafting soon to canon that is why I am hurrying the story. Anyway Enjoy.