Chapter 39: Battle of Acorn Hall
300 AC
Robb
It was late in the morning, but he had already been up for quite some time. Even though he had had the luxury of a bed in the castle of Stone Hedge, he hadn't slept well. The worries for the upcoming battles were hindering his sleep. His army was outnumbered, which was not entirely new to him. What was new, was that, for the first time since the battle in the Whispering Wood, he felt that he might be outmatched. Tarly could possibly the one commander he wouldn't be able to defeat, he worried.
However, the fresh morning air had done him well. These parts of the Riverlands looked almost peaceful in the morning. The lands around the castle had been devastated by the Lannisters many months ago, but nature was replenishing itself. The castle itself stood strong and defiant. In his mind, he thanked the Blackfish for saving it from ever falling into their enemies' hands.
Now, he was in the middle of the campgrounds. He had spent an hour talking to the troops and carefully studying their morale. Now, he stood in a tent in the center of the encampment. He had decided to hear grievances from his soldiers and lower nobles today. He did his best to unify the force like this, although it wasn't made easy.
He had to stop himself from sighing when he heard another dispute between two lower nobles over the possible theft of arrows, boots or hay. Still, he soldiered on and brought justice and calm back to even these small divisions in the force.
He noticed how the Northmen quite easily accepted his judgement, except for maybe that one time with the Whitehills. A lot of Riverlanders were harder to convince. It was noticeable how his authority was questioned more whenever they were part of the conflict. In some way, this was to be expected.
The Riverlanders had always been a quarrelsome people who had problems with established authority. Over a dozen dynasties had ruled these lands, none survived to this day. Even the mighty Targaryens had had problems with them. Every war, be it the Blackfyre Rebellion, Faith Uprising or the Dance of Dragons, had seen fighting among the Riverlords.
He would try to end this, but it wouldn't be easy. He would need to show them he was their king now and they had to obey. Ironically, one of the things that played most in his favor was his Tully coloring. Where a lot of the Northmen had hesitated because of his looks, some Riverlords accepted "the young Hoster Tully come again" much easier.
Not all lords were as quarrelsome either. The Blackwoods, Mallisters and Deddings obeyed him much quicker than the others. He saw this as a positive sign, especially from the latter two. Both of those houses were some of those that had followed him either the longest or the furthest west on his campaigns. They had gotten to know him the best. If he could get the other Riverlords to know him like this, maybe he could instill the same trust in them as well.
However, this would take time. For now, he was stuck dealing with their petty issues. He prepared himself for the story of a captain wearing the colors of House Erenford when a messenger stormed into the tent. The man wore Tully colors and was clearly exhausted but pushed on. His guards stopped him in his tracks, but the man just shouted in response. "A message … a message for the king from … from Ser Brynden Tully."
He stood up from his chair and told his guards to let the man pass. The man waggled towards him, until he fell to his knees from exhaustion. "Get that man a chair and some food and water!" He shouted to no one in particular. Soon servants brought a chair and two guards raised him into it. Not much later, a wineskin and some salted beef was brought up.
The messenger took a few bites from the beef and swallowed it down with the wine, before looking up to him. "I thank you, Your Grace. I was sent to bring you an important message from Ser Brynden Tully."
He nodded encouragingly. "Where is the letter, good man?"
"He didn't dare risk it being written down. I was to tell you his words. If I was captured, I was ordered to kill myself before they could torture me. I was to only tell you and your most trusted advisors, Your Grace." The man spoke out. This caused a lot of commotion in the tent. He just raised his hand and most of it died down.
"All of you, out. I will resume this were it left off after I have dealt with this." He said to everyone in the room. Most men left the tent, only the nobles of his personal guard being allowed to stay. "What is your name soldier?"
"I'm called Olyver, Your Grace." The man replied and he nodded in response to that. "Please, tell me your message now, Olyver." He said in an authoritative, but gentle tone to the soldier in the chair.
"He orders me to tell you that his mission is going well. He has already taken out two supply convoys of the Tyrells, one with food and the other with siege equipment and army supplies. He has managed to surprise attack a portion of the enemy rear as well. One Lord Kidwell and his troops lagged behind and were ambushed. The lord and half his men were dead before any reinforcements could come in. Once they did, we retreated back quickly." The Tully man started his story.
"In response, a combined force of sellwords and Reachmen was sent after us. This force is led by Lord Vyrwel. It has quite successfully managed to screen our force away from the enemy host, although it hasn't been able to force Ser Brynden into an engagement. He fears he won't be able to do much more in his current task and asks permission to return to the main army." The message continued.
He nodded at this. If his uncle thought this the most prudent, he would allow it. He could make good use of both him and the men accompanying him. He understood why the Blackfish wouldn't want this information to fall into enemy hands, but this still wouldn't warrant this kind of secrecy and speed.
"Thank you, good man. There will be a bed waiti…" He started to say, but he was quickly interrupted.
"I thank you for your hospitality Your Grace, but that was not the whole message I came to deliver. After Lord Vyrwel split off from the column, the enemy thought our outriders couldn't reach them anymore. However, Ser Brynden had carefully sent a group of scouts around to keep an eye on them. The force split in three, a few days after it left its path next to the Blackwater. As expected, they did this to ease the strains on their supply chains and to cover a bigger area for raiding and foraging." Olyver said, as he looked up to him from the chair.
"The most western force, carrying the Lannister banner, marches on Pinkmaiden. The central force, with the banners of House Rowan and Tyrell alongside one another, was seen on the road to Wayfarer's Rest. The last one, showing the Tyrell rose above all others, has been seen on the way to Acorn Hall." The soldier explained without stopping.
"It was my job to inspect the last host and bring a message to you if Ser Tully's guess proved correct. He told me to council you to attack the eastern host as soon as possible, but only if the army was led by Mace Tyrell. It is, Your Grace. I have looked at its fires and seen its march order. The Tyrell lord's wheelhouse could be seen from far away. His young son could be seen leading at the front of the column as well. I had clear orders to give you their troop numbers and tell you of their weak links in command and urge you to make use of it, Your Grace." The man explained his uncle's audacious plan.
"The Blackfish wants us to ambush the Tyrells now?" Smalljon boomed in response.
"Yes, my lord, he does." The soldier agreed.
He stayed quiet, while his trusted friends and guards started bickering amongst themselves. Without a word, Torrhen walked over to him and whispered in his ear. "How are we sure we can trust this guard, Robb? What if this is another of Tywin's plots?"
This got him thinking. He wouldn't put it past the Lannister lord to try something like this, but it also sounded like his uncle. He decided to put the messenger to the test. "How do I know you're not send here by the Lannisters to run me into an ambush myself?"
"Your uncle expected this question, Your Grace. He ordered me to tell you his first words to you in the Riverlands. When he first saw you, at the head of your army he said, 'Good to see you finally chose to show up nephew, you took your time alright', or so he told me."
He snickered at that. His uncle had indeed greeted him that way. He still saw the man's smile on his face when he looked at him and the cavalry army, he had brought to save his home.
He nodded to Torrhen, indicating that he was no spy. "Tell me more about the Tyrell army. What are their numbers? What's their army composition? How is their marching order? Which lords accompany Mace Tyrell?" He fired off his questions, one after the other.
"These were the same questions I was ordered to expect, Your Grace." Olyver happily responded, clearly proud that he would be able to help the war in such a significant way. He pulled out a paper from his chest pocket, with what he assumed were notes on it.
"The force numbers around fifteen thousand men, give or take. Except for the Tyrell rose, there were many banners that I could see. There were silver caltrops on a black field, grapes on a blue field, flaming arrows on a dark blue field, an animal skull on a red field, a tower on a grey field, six yellow circles on a blue field, and lastly a field of black and yellow stripes with three yellow things in the middle, but I couldn't see what they were." The man read from his list.
"That's all of them?" He asked.
"Yes, all that I could see. There could be others that I haven't seen, I don't know. There were also dozens of smaller ones, but I was told to ignore those." The Tully soldier replied.
He nodded, that had been good advice. Who knows, otherwise they would have gotten a list banners describing sworn swords and barely landed knights. He thought about the crests himself. Of course, Tyrell, but he also recognized House Hightower and House Redwyne in there. He couldn't think of the names of the other ones. He looked at his friends. "Did anyone get them all?"
Ser Kirth Vance, the youngest son of the Lord of Atranta, stepped forward. "My mother was from the Reach, Your Grace. I served as a page for my uncle, Lord Mullendore, for a while. As such I got all but one. In order they were House Footly, House Redwyne, House Norridge, House Bulwer, House Hightower and House Cuy. The last one I don't know for sure, but I would guess it to be House Beesbury. They are also vassals of the Hightowers, like the Cuys and Bulwers, and they match the description, three yellow beehives on a black and yellow striped field."
"Thank you, Ser Kirth. So which nobles do we have there with Mace Tyrell? Who will be on his council?" He continued his questions.
"Lord Paxter Redwyne will be there, no main Hightowers were said to be part of the force, so maybe only a distant cousin or something from them." Ser Patrek Mallister responded.
"Lord Footly is too old, his son and heir will lead his troops there. Not too bright a lad, if you ask me." Ser Lucas Blackwood joined in.
Ser Wendel Manderly spoke next. "My father spoke to me of the dead of Lord Bulwer two years ago. If I remember correctly, the new head of the house is a young girl."
"No Bulwers then, any others we know of?" He kept the conversation going.
Ser Kirth spoke up once more. "Lord Branston Cuy will more than likely lead his own forces, Your Grace. If I would have to guess about House Beesbury, I would guess Ser Bertram. The man is a much more capable fighter than his fat lordly brother. I wouldn't know who leads House Norridge."
"Do you know anything more about those two men?" He asked the young knight.
"Lord Branston is jovial man, but not too bright when it comes to warfare. He was one of the foremost supporters of Lord Mace's siege of Storm's End during the Rebellion. Ser Bertram is a capable fighter, but he is a natural follower. He always follows his elder brother or the Hightowers everywhere." The young Vance explained.
Good, that means the only men Mace Tyrell had around him were Lord Redwyne and some yes men. There could always be a very capable cousin in one of the houses, but the odds of that were low. The odds of Mace Tyrell listening to a second rank noble of a second rank house were even lower, if the stories he heard about the man were true.
"Any more information about the army?" He asked the messenger.
"Just parts of their marching order, Your Grace. The Tyrell son leads at the front, he is accompanied by the Beesbury and Hightower banners there. The Redwyne and Footly banners were more in the middle with Lord Tyrell's wheelhouse. The others I don't know about, I just saw them when they were encamped." Olyver replied. He quickly noticed how the man had listened to his nobles and put the right houses and banners together himself in his explanation.
A capable and intelligent man, he might have more use for him. "Did you have any problems on your mission?"
"Yes, Your Grace. I was once confronted by a lonely scout riding out, but I managed to defeat him and hide the body. I got this cut as a souvenir." The man pointed to a wound on his left arm, as he told his story." Whilst sneaking around the hills surrounding their camp, I took out another guard that was asleep. Further than that, I encountered no enemies."
"Great job, Ser Brynden will be more than proud. I will have a bed in the barracks of the keep made ready for you for tonight. After Ser Brynden rejoins the army, I ask you to come to an audience with us. You will receive a fitting reward then."
"Thank you, Your Grace." The man responded, as he got out of his seat. He bowed low and left the tent right after.
"Torr, Ser Patrek and Ser Wendel, could you do me the favor of accompanying me back to the keep? I would ask the rest of you to gather all of the lords in the great hall of the castle. I will join them soon.
"Aye, what about the petitioners?" Torr asked.
"Send them away, I'm done with this for the day." He replied at once
After that, they quickly left and looked at the maps of the areas around Acorn Hall. The castle wouldn't stand a chance against the Tyrell host, but the territory around it looked suitable enough for an ambush. He got the same response from lords in the area. It was a shame Lord Theomar was holding the Golden Tooth with his liege Lord Karl Vance. Still, enough others new the area.
In what might have been his shortest war council, he made his decision. He would follow his uncle's advice and try to break the Tyrells on the field. His lords looked at him in surprise when he finished the meeting without letting them all have their say. That surprise turned into shock however, when they heard of his plan. He didn't leave any room to contest his plans and send them on their way to prepare.
He would ride forth with all of his cavalry. As they were constantly on the march, it would be a lot easier to prepare them for a quick detour. He hoped most would be ready by the early afternoon. That way, they could still accomplish a decent march today.
He knew he had around eight thousand horse left in his army. His uncle had taken eight hundred away. Eight thousand would have to do. The element of surprise could easily counter their numerical inferiority.
He ordered Jon to prepare the household cavalry, while he himself found a few packhorses. With him, he would bring maps, scout reports and the troop strengths of each of his lords. This would aid him when he had to make up his actual battle plan.
He patted the flank of the last packhorse and took a deep breath. Battle would be soon upon us, he thought as he looked over the courtyard.
(Four days later)
They were waiting behind the thin tree line, about one and a half mile north of Acorn Hall. The trees hit their presence for now, but they couldn't wait here forever. Still, they couldn't attack just yet. Jon first had to do the task he had been given.
His brother had secluded himself somewhere in the forest. He was left alone, with only a perimeter of guards around him at a considerable distance. For the task he had been given, he couldn't be himself. He needed to be Ghost.
After waiting for a while, a white direwolf suddenly appeared beside him. It hadn't made sound and still managed to frighten a lot of his troops because of it. Owen Norrey clearly muttering that "that beast wasn't normal" somewhere further along the line.
Ghost looked at him and waited for him, he gave him the slightest of nods. He knew he was signaling to his brother when he looked into the eyes and he let out a sigh he didn't knew he was holding. He looked to his side to his own companion.
"Grey, follow Ghost." He said quietly. The beast only looked at him in return. However, when Ghost slowly started walking beyond the tree line, he followed his brother. Many of his lords hadn't believed he could pull off his plan. He would sneak the direwolves into the enemy camp, kill the guards and scare the enemy horses. At the same time, a small group of archers would fire at the tents on the south side of the encampment.
The plan was that this would drive the enemy on the plain closer towards them. Then, they would attack from both the north- and the eastside, obliterating much of the confused enemy in front of its camp. Afterwards, there would probably have to be a bloody fight over the remainder of the encampment, but with some luck they would be able to break the chain of command with the chaos in the camp and the slaughter outside of it.
He had managed to convince his lords, using their newly found anger to his benefit. Yesterday, his army had past High Heart and his Northern lords had almost exploded. Most knew of the place, but rarely anyone had seen it before. Seeing the holy place and the thirty-one weirwood tree stumps, angered even the most patient of his lords.
To many of them, especially the young and brash, the enemy in front of them was nothing less than the re-coming of the Andals. This was completely ridiculous, of course, as parts of his own force were of Andal descent. Many men in his army fought under the banners of Vance, Vypren and other Andal houses. Besides, all of the Riverlords had Andal blood in their veins after thousands of years of intermarriage.
Still, it worked into his favor. The Andal flowers of House Tyrell made the blood of many of his men boil and that was exactly what he needed. He didn't care if they revenged some distant memory of thousands of years back when they fought, as long as they did fight.
He looked around the men and took a deep breath. He was surrounded by five thousand cavalry men from all across his kingdoms. They looked ready, for which he was glad. He had split his forces to better strike at the enemy. The biggest part would attack from the northside under his own command, while a second force of three thousand horse would attack from the east under the Greatjon.
Together they could pincer the enemy force and deny it the possibility of raising an effective shield wall against their charges.
He looked to his side and saw Torr dutifully standing next him. Harry wasn't there, as he would be leading his left flank. He had missed the presence of his father-in-law, as he had given him command of the foot with the task of getting them to Riverrun safely.
He stood there, waiting, for what felt like an eternity. The whole army sat silently on top of their horses, as if frozen in time. In truth it couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes, but that was not how it felt. "The calm before the storm", his father had always described it to him. The moment where every man comes to the realization this might be his last battle.
His father had told him it was there that you really got to know a man. You had the ones who reveled in it, like his friend the former King Robert. You had those who felt afraid and were shaking from it, trying to pray to whomever would listen to allow them to survive the fight. He couldn't have been more than twelve years old, but he would never forget his father's answer when he had asked him which of those he was.
"Neither," he had replied. "I never really enjoyed it, although I was always good at fighting. Not as good as the king mind you, but I can handle my own. I never turned away from battle either. A Stark doesn't go into battle because he likes it, or he doesn't want to look like a coward. A Stark fights because it is his duty. I have a duty to my family, to the North, to its people and to my king. You will have the same duty one day, Robb. I really hope you'll never have to go to war, but if you do don't be afraid. Don't revel in it either, most of those men opposite you are just fighting for their people and families as well just like you. Just do you your duty and try to get home, that's all a man can ever do in war."
He was planning on doing his duty. He would protect his family and make sure they were never threatened like this again. He would do his duty to the North and give it its long-awaited independence. He would do his duty to his people, both in the North and the Riverlands, and try to make sure that they have better lives than the ones the Lannisters would ever allow them to have. Lastly, he would do his duty as a son and avenge his father. He would break the Lannister allies one by one until only Tywin Lannister remained. After that no one would ever speak that name in fear again, he would make sure of that.
Then he felt a pull at the back of his head and closed his eyes for a moment. He was in an army camp and the chaos around him confused him. Horses were running amok by the hundreds. He saw them trample both big and small two-footers alike. He heard screaming, and in the distance, he saw fire. All his instincts told him to run, but his white brother stopped him.
He saw him bite out the throat of a foolish two-footer who had ran at them with a pointy stick. He saw another one who was trying to shoot smaller sticks at his packmate and instinctively charged him. The two-legger in green never saw him coming. Green or red, it didn't matter, their necks snapped the same way.
Suddenly his white brother stalked over to him and put his paw on his face. What an odd thing to do, he thought. When he didn't react, his brother did it again and again until suddenly he remembered something. He was supposed to howl to warn his two-legger. He raised his head and a piercing howl left his throat.
After he stopped, he suddenly saw his packmate charge him and as he crashed into him, he was back into his own body. Jon probably knew he would have difficulty getting back on his own. He looked around and saw how everybody was waiting for his signal.
"Today, we will show the Tyrells why they shouldn't have allied with the Lannisters and their incestuous family. We will chase these Reachmen all the way back to Highgarden, never to return to these lands." He shouted. "Now, we ride!"
He put his heels in the flanks of his horse and he shot forward. Soon thousands of men did the same as they thundered after him. The crested a hill and rode to the top of the following one. What he saw there was better than he would have dared to dream.
He saw a big army encampment to the south of Acorn Hall. It was surrounded by a palisade, but otherwise lightly defended. The southern tip of the camp was in flames and the fire seemed to be spreading. He saw around a hundred cavalrymen charge into the woods, probably to go after his archers. He knew they would never reach them, as the Greatjon would soon emerge from there.
On the field below, hundreds if not thousands of men had gathered. Some had just fled the chaos in the camp, others were actively trying to recapture the escaped horses. Most of the men were only dressed in light armor and only carried the weapons on their hip. Few shields or spears could be seen, which would be a joy for his cavalry.
In a few places, he could see nobles trying to bring order to the men on the field with mixed results. If they struck now, it would be a slaughter.
He looked around to Torr and some of his soldiers. "We charge! Anyone who brings me Mace Tyrell, or his flowery son, will receive his weight in silver!" He screamed at the top of his lungs and the men cheered, hoping for wealth and glory as all charged down the hill in a sea of men and horses. Their charge was accompanied by the sound of his Northern warhorns.
He saw a noble in a dark blue tabard shouting at the men to form up right in front of him. To his surprise, over a hundred actually did so without fleeing. In the end it didn't matter. Few hosted spears or even shields and they just ran right over them, his sword first getting red in the process.
He saw the lord disappear under Dacey Mormont's horse, after he had been hit by Ser Donnel Locke's lance. The Reachlord's soldiers fared no better and quickly he found himself on the open plain, chaos all around them. He kept charging on, cleaving a man's hand off on his left and opening the shoulder of a soldier in Tyrell colors on his right.
Now, he could hear a second blast of Northern warhorns. A sound he had learned to love and cherish, especially now as thousands of horses appeared from the east.
In minutes, he had crossed the whole plain and he found himself at the gates of the enemy camp. He looked around him and saw that the fields were overrun by his cavalry. As such, he didn't hesitate and ordered the men around him to directly charge in the camp. Hundreds either obeyed the command, or just followed the stream of horses as his men started pouring into the encampment.
Torr had told him to wait for a few dozen of his men to pass, before he and his guard also rode inside. Inside the camp, chaos still reigned. He saw flattened tents and spread out bodies. No way his men could have done this. This was Grey and Ghost's work. Well, them and the thousands of horses they had managed to scare off in all directions.
The chaos the horses had made in the camp was amazing, but the best thing about it was that the Reachmen couldn't use their cavalry. His men charged in and soon dispersed all around the camp.
He and his guard with dozens of others rode towards the flames on the southside, killing all in their way. Soon they were joined by even more riders, among them he recognized some of the banners that been in the Umber force.
After a while they reached the center of the camp. This was the first area where he noticed heavy fighting was taking place. He saw how some two thousand enemy soldiers had gathered around the command tent in a loose square formation. His troops had clearly crashed against their formation from two sides, as clear dents could be seen in the enemy line. Yet, they still held and heavy man on man fighting had replaced cavalry charges.
Instead of joining in the fray like so many others, he ordered a good-sized company of men to flank around with him. It was at this time, Grey and Ghost decided to show up. They quickly fell in line with him, both protectively running alongside him as his guards fell back to give them space.
The company rode around to the westside, some two hundred men strong. There they charged into the enemy, having far more success than the troops on the other side.
At the last moment, the direwolves sped up and attacked in front of him. They managed to kill or redirect all spear- or pikemen that pointed in his direction. Their follow-up charge cut through the enemy like a knife through butter and they pushed the enemy line almost a hundred yards back, killing dozens, if not hundreds, of footmen in the meantime.
A big group of soldiers to his right, wearing the Redwyne colors, were open to being flanked because of this. He silentely cursed himself, as he hadn't thought of a follow up charge. Still, he fought on. All he could do was hope they wouldn't circle around his position and trap him here.
Mere moments later, he heard another big commotion over the sounds of battle. He pulled himself back a little bit and looked around to see what had happened. As he looked to the right, he saw how the Redwyne men had been charged by a force in Dustin and Bolton colors and immediately knew it was Domeric.
The few hundred Redwyne soliders were decimated by the charge, as some of his troops impulsively charged into their rear. The result was devastating, that was even clear from where he stood. He could say a lot about House Bolton, but Domeric might well be the best cavalry commander in his force.
He didn't know how the rest of the battle was going, but in the middle they were making steady progress. Slowly, but surely, the enemy was being pushed back, he noted as he slashed at an enemy's face. Suddenly, he felt his horse give way and years of training and developing his instincts told him to jump off.
From the corner of his eye, he saw how a spear was sticking out of the stallion's belly. He tried to roll on his shoulder, but felt dazed and hurt nonetheless. He stayed on the ground for a few seconds to catch his breath, a choice that would have meant his end if not for Grey Wind.
Two enemy knights had seen him, laying there on the ground. They charged him. He tried to block the left one's axe with his sword but knew it to be fruitless from the beginning. Just as the axe came down, his faithful companion barreled into the two knights.
This was all the time he needed to get up. He saw how his guards closed the line to stop more enemies from pouring in. This gave him the opportunity to quickly walk over towards the knight with the axe, Grey occupying the other one. "Yield!" He shouted, as he got close. The man didn't respond as he went for his axe. The weapon had been thrown three foot away to his left and he saw the man lunch towards it.
He ran over and stabbed the man in the knee. The piercing scream that followed was soon drowned out by the sounds of steel clashing on steel close by. To his surprise, the wounded knight still went for his axe and swung it aggressively at him. He jumped out of the way and went back into his stance. He came prepared for the second swing and deflected it to the right. He stepped in, kicked the axe out of the man's hand and put his sword under the knight's chin.
"I yield!" The man growled. He knew he didn't deserve it, but he still lowered his sword. He turned around to signal a retainer to take him away, just as he heard a growl behind him. He turned back. Behind him was the knight, his throat torn out by his direwolf. As he looked at the man's right hand, he saw how he had been holding a hidden throwing dagger.
He walked over to his four-legged friend, quickly glancing to the other knight's death body. He quickly hugged Grey. "Thank you, boy. You saved my life twice. I'll make sure that you'll be given fresh deer for the next few days."
His direwolf bristled at that, clearly thinking he should receive more. "When we're back in Riverrun, you and Ghost will be hosted as kings every day, I promise." He responded the wolf, as he patted his bloodied head.
He looked around and saw his friends were holding the line. He unstrapped Ice from his back and took the two-handed sword in his hands. No better weapon to use on foot than this one.
He shared a look with Grey and, after that, they charged into the fray together. Fighting with Ice in his hands and Grey by his side would be the closest he ever came to the joy the Umbers talked about feeling in battle. He split armor, destroyed shield and cut off limbs left and right, while his back was always protected by his companion or his guard.
A few minutes later, he saw the Tyrell standard go down in the distance. After that, the enemy morale was broken. First, one or two started surrendering, but soon they threw down their weapons by the dozens. A fresh charge on the other side was all that it took and the remaining few hundred men in the center all gave up.
He quickly demanded a horse and rode on. Rallying all the men to charge deeper into the enemy camp. He just rode through, meeting no resistance until he reached the burning southern part. There the fighting seemed to have been heavy, but his men were on the verge of ending this.
A scattered shieldwall was being pushed into the flames, but fiercely resisted still. All the while, man on man fighting was happening between the flaming tents. He let his men to the front line and just as they were about to join, a man started shouting over the sounds of steel clashing on steel.
He looked to his left and saw that it was Smalljon. "Your lord is dead! Mace Tyrell is dead! Surrender now and you will be spared. If you don't, you will die just like he did!"
He saw many of the enemies look around towards each other, before they all surrendered too. He rode to the front and took command of the situation. Ordering men to surround the flaming parts of the encampment and others to take care of the prisoners.
He spent the next fifteen minutes taking charge of the prisoners and dozing the flames, as the battle was won. No real opposition had been left in the encampment, by now it had been swept away, and his men were already looting the camp.
Then he finally saw the Umber banner. He called for his guards and turned his horse towards it. Soon, the booming figure that was the Greatjon came into view and he rode straight for it. The giant lord was laughing with one of his brothers and both his sons, clearly happy with the victory.
He rode through his troops towards the giant's presence. He quickly passed through the rows of men, as no one mistook Grey Wind and they all went out of their way.
"Lord Umber, how are things here? I was stuck on the other side and would like a report." He asked one of his most loyal vassals.
"Ah, Your Grace! The enemy outside of the palisade has been destroyed. Both on the fields, as well as the small group that rode into the forest. The enemy core group in the center was defeated, as you well know. All prisoners from both are being gathered on the field there, while we keep the nobles apart. It was total victory, only on the southside a few thousand of the Reachmen managed to retreat. Even so, this army is done for." His vassal told him gleefully.
He smiled back. "I will give you a moment to catch up with friends and family and to look to your own men. I ask that you see me in the keep an hour before dawn together with Smalljon. I will ask the other lords to be present as well. Don't drink too much, we will leave here again by noon tomorrow. I don't want the enemy to do to us what we just did to them."
The whole Umber clan nodded dutifully at that, so he left them in peace. He looked around to try and find Jon, until he realized there was an easier way of doing that. He looked towards Grey Wind and just told him "bring me to Ghost." His direwolf looked at him for a while, before doing something what looked like a nod and bolting off. He soon followed suit, but behind him he heard Robin Flint and Ser Donnel Locke mutter about how unnatural that was.
He would either have to say something about the direwolves to his companions soon, or he would need to learn to hide it better.
Two minutes later, Grey had found Ghost and Jon wasn't far behind. He hugged his brother, as he saw that he was unharmed. "How'd it go?" He whispered in his ear.
"Great, after I got you out of Grey Wind, I brought Ghost to a safer area deeper in one of the stables. I then left him and took command of the rearguard you had sat aside for me. We clashed in after the fields was already cleared. and me and my man circled around to attack from the east with the Umbers. I took down a Hightower knight, apparently, he was some distant kin of the main branch." Jon responded.
He clasped him on the back. "If you keep making a name for yourself like this, you'll force me to reward you in the future." He smiled.
His brother smirked back. "I wouldn't mind that."
Together they took care of a few things and ordered the men to set up camp. After that, they rode towards the castle together.
The gates were opened quickly for them. In the courtyard, he was welcomed by Lady Smallwood. After sharing some tales of the battle, they shared bread and salt and he asked her to make some rooms ready for him and his lords.
Lady Smallwood, formerly of House Swann, was more than welcoming until he told her she better pack everything of value to her house and leave with him tomorrow.
"Why?" she had asked him. "Because Lord Tyrell's youngest son is going to come back in revenge with an even larger force and destroy Acorn Hall." He had replied. Angry, she had resigned herself to her fate and started packing.
Now, a few hours later, he was standing in the Great Hall with all his lords and commanders. "Harry, you have the final battle report?"
"Yes, Your Grace, I do." He responded. "To our estimation, the Tyrells lost just under ten thousand men. Between seven and eight thousand are dead and over two thousand are captured. Ser Loras Tyrell, Ser Bertram Beesbury and the Norridge heir seemed to have successfully retreated some three thousand men. They were last seen marching westwards. They'll probably try to link up with Lord Rowan's force at Wayfarer's Rest. An interesting thing was that multiple men saw that the young Tyrell had to be dragged away by his companions. Apparently, the boy wanted to fight and save his father". His brother-in-law explained.
"What happened to his father and the other nobles?" He asked.
"Lord Mace Tyrell died, although not in the fighting in the center as you would expect. He was hit by an arrow, as he was trying to flee the square of his own troops to the safety of his son." Harrion's reply came.
This led to a muttering amongst his lords, the former Lord of Highgarden was scolded for cowardice by Riverlord and Northman alike. He couldn't blame them. The man had thrown his honor, army and life away by fleeing.
"Do we know who the archer was?" He asked. His brother-in-law looked at him. "Yes, I think so, why?"
"I promised the men a great reward in silver for whomever delivered me Mace or Loras Tyrell. Ser Wendel, could you see to it that the man is adequately rewarded?" The Manderly knight nodded to him and so he continued. "What about the other deaths?"
The Karstark heir picked up a list from under his belt and started reading.
"These are the other notable ones. Lord Paxter Redwyne, who held the square in the center for a long time. Lord Medwick Norridge and his cousin Ser Normund, who were charged down on the fields in the beginning of the battle with much of their men. Ser Theodore Tyrell, the son of one of Mace's cousins. Ser Triston Hightower, a distant cousin of the main branch, who was slain by Lord Jon Snow. Ser Hugh Beesbury, youngest brother to the lord and two Footly cousins, Ser Martyn and Ser Morgan."
"The captives?" He continued and Harrion started reading off his list again.
"Lord Branston Cuy, the Lord of Sunhouse. Ser Denys Footly, who is the heir to Tumbleton. Luthor Tyrell, a squire, who is the son of the dead Ser Theodore. Some far more distant Tyrells, Ser Olymer Tyrell and his son Raymond, a squire, and Ser Leo Tyrell.. Denys Redwyne, a squire from a minor branch of House Redwyne. Finally, Ser Eustace Hightower, distant cousin and the brother to the dead Ser Triston."
"Captives from Houses Tyrell, Hightower and Redwyne, however distant are always nice to have. Besides that, both a lord and the heir to the house who has the biggest border with the Riverlands. I like that. How about our own casualties?" He asked, as he now looked at Lord Mallister.
"Due to our charges and the element of surprise, our casualties in most of the battle were negligible. Only in the center and on the southside of the encampment did we really lose men. In total, some three hundred and fifty heavy cavalry and one hundred and fifty light cavalry are either dead or too wounded to take with us. I don't expect many of them to survive the night anyway. Besides that, we have another five to six hundred men with light wounds. If we slow down our marching speed just a little, I expect most, if not all, of them to make it and heal by the time we reach Riverrun." Lord Jason dutifully explained.
He was surprised by that, he knew that they had won a big victory, but he hadn't expected odds of twenty to one. "Did we lose any important nobles?" He asked.
"Some landed knights and cousins of greater houses, but only one essential to the king's peace. Young Lord Lymond Goodbrook was slain by Ser Hugh Beesbury. He was later avenged by his cousin and heir Ser Garse Goodbrook. The latter, here present, will inherit all lands and titles of House Goodbrook." The lord of Seaguard told him, as he looked over to the right to a knight in his twenties.
"Be welcome, Lord Garse." He said respectfully. The new lord bowed slightly in response, but he didn't like the look in the man's eyes. He would have to keep an eye on that one after the war.
"How about horses?"
"We lost around a thousand, however we have managed to capture around two thousand in good enough condition from the Tyrells, so we actually gained on that front." Lord Jason responded.
"Well then this battle was an even bigger success than most of us imagined. However, we don't have any time to celebrate it. If we stay here, the force under Lord Rowan can, and will, attack us and do the same to us as we did to his liege here. Tomorrow, we march at noon. We will ride back to Stone Hedge and from there to Riverrun." He ordered and all his lords agreed easily enough, only a little annoyed because their possibilities of a feast had been shot down.
"Lord Glover?" He called and Galbart immediately stepped forward. "Aye, Your Grace?"
"I want you to take two hundred light cavalry and screen all along our west flank, uptowards the Rowan host. I don't want any surprises." He ordered him.
"It shall be done, Your Grace." The Northman responded, as he stepped back.
"Lord Darry?" Now the Riverlander lord stepped forward, albeit less certain than Lord Galbart had. "Yes, Your Grace?"
"You will do the same to the east with a hundred outriders. I want to know where Tarly is at all times. I suspect you know the area well enough." He ordered.
"Yes, Your Grace, as you command." Lord Raymun replied, somewhat surprised but happy that he was given a command. It might also have to do with the fact that he could scout out information about his home because of this.
"Thank you all, this meeting is dismissed. I expect to see you and your men at noon tomorrow, all ready to leave. We will use the same marching order as before." He ended the meeting.
He walked to the chambers he had been given by Lady Smallwood. His body suddenly felt extremely tired, as the battle fatigue started to set in. He let himself fall on the bed and only took off his boots, not bothering with the rest of his clothes. What will you do now, Tywin? What will be your countermove? He thought as his mind drifted off to sleep.
This is it for this chapter!
Thank you so much for all the continued reviews and support. Life has been very busy the last few months, which is why uploads have slowed a little (but never stopped).
We see Robb dispensing justice and talking with his troops, when a messenger of his uncle arrives. The Blackfish mission once again pays off and he councils Robb to attack Mace Tyrell.
He does so and the first battle for the survival of Robb's kingdom is a fact. Robb obliterates the Tyrell host using warging, surpise attacks and cavalry charges. The Tyrells lose some ten thousand men, but even so Robb is still very much outnumbered in the Riverlands.
Notably, Mace Tyrell and Paxter Redwyne die, among other greater or lesser nobles. Others are captured as well. The Tyrells are starting to lose more and more in this war and tensions will surely start to rise.
After months of pivoting around each other and this surprise attack, the fighting will now soon reach its climax. The battle between Robb and Tywin is not far away anymore.
Ps: If you ask yourself, how did Robb manage to come as close as one and a half mile without the Tyrells spotting his army. It's a combination of Mace's hubris and the fact that the direwolves love outrider meat.
Fannic
Reviews:
- George Christian810: No, I don't think so. For starters, Theon is a few thousand miles away. In addition, Arya almost got killed and the bond between Theon and Robb is far from as strong as the books. Except for Robert's visit to Winterfell, they haven't seen each other for years. He probably still regarded him as a friend, but not like a brother or anything close to it. He has Jon and the Karstarks for that.
- Kuman: Here he does both, with great succes! ;-)
- Iacopo Passerini: No problem! I thank you for taking the time in doing so now. I (and all book readers) know that Euron doesn't want the North. However, neither Robb nor any of his commanders know this and so they have to prepare. Still, Euron is very unpredictable and will influence things down the line.
Tywin still has some plans, don't worry about that! He was dealt a big defeat here, but he isn't out and is still scheming.
- Sammy-1000: Thank you so much!
- Kingmaneana: Thank you!
- Anindhitania238: Exactly, and without it there is no reason for them to be allowed to pass the Wall in big numbers.
- Anja Quickert9: :-)
- Force Smuggler: Theon/Asha (Yara doesn't exist! :P) don't even know of the letter, nor will they for a considerable time. For now, they are just out of the fight. The battle will soon be upon us, although not next chapter.
- Wolflord456: You're right, thank you! I changed it so Lord Lychester is still the senile lord in his castle, but he has an heir. The son of a cousin of his, this way all his offspring is still dead, but it all still works. It wouldn't be to big of a stretch either, most houses have lesser branches who can inherit.
Yes most, if not all, of them are dead ... It wouldn't be Asoiaf if I don't kill of many many many fan favorites.
- Poly19hum: Thank you! It won't ever be like that. Even now, with this big victory, things can still go very badly very quickly.
- Greatazuredragon: He is unpredictable to anyone with basic family and moral values. Why does he have a lot of priests in his ship? Why does he threat his bastard sons like dirt? Cut off the tongues of his crew? Come back when he did? Attack the Shield Islands without warning? ... The guy is half a mystery and nobody knows what he'll do next.
- Harold Angell7: Thank you so much!
- The Niemand: Well, I hope you liked this battle then. They use their warging abilities for the first time in a decisive capacity. Oh he is a piece of shit, was just confused with the Frey addition.
Not death, wildlings. Still, if they aren't successfully stopped they might kill/drive off everyone north of Winterfell.
- Guest: Thanks!