Chapter 2: The Great Andal Massacre
"It is the will of the Clan, Adrian. Theo will act as a decoy in your stead." Knowing that they would not budge, Adrian could only nod in assent and leave the tent.
He did not want this, to let others die for him. All he wanted to do was lead them North, even if it had cost him his life he would have been content with getting them to their ancestral home. He was right all those months ago when assumed that the Andals would eventually pursue them. Now that the rest of the Clan Elders had mandated that his plan would be enacted by another member of the clan...
Preparation was key if they wanted to win, his scouts had mentioned a narrow valley. On one side was a river and other side was a hill where men could be stationed. The weather had been poor, such were the consequences of winter approaching fast. It also meant that the Knights would have trouble climbing the valley.
It had taken Adrian all of an hour to come up with a plan, he would have small corp of infantry lure the knights into the valley where the rest of his forces would be lying in wait to spring an ambush. The Andals knew him by his armor so he had planned to make himself the bait, that was the plan... but the Clan Elders had overridden him, now his distant cousin Theo would don his armor and lure Andals to into the trap.
Stationing his archers and crossbowmen at the top of the valley would be prudent, having them fix stakes would be ideal, but they needed to keep the enemy unaware. While a part of him dismissed them as foppish fools, it would be too obvious. When the Knights reach the end of the valley, his footsoldiers would descend on the entrance, trapping the Knights and sealing off their ability to move...
0o0o0
Several Days Later...
We have been pursuing them for months. Ser Jacob Bracken thought.
These accursed Belmont Heathens had been a thorn in their sides for too long.
High Heart was supposed to be their greatest triumph, to cast down the heretical faith that plagues these lands. Only for tragedy to strike. The Belmont's who had been exiled months ago had gathered all the men they could find and brought them to bear against them at High Heart.
He had heard rumors of their fighting prowess but dismissed them, up until it was too late. At High Heart, he had witnessed how dangerous the crossbow was. Scores of Knights were shot down by volley after volley of quarrel. But not their King, no quarrel could fell him. But then came the shield wall, four times did they charged it, and twelve times they were denied, on the thirteenth charge they finally broke through, but their horses were spent and the battle simply dissolved into a melee.
In that Carnage, their king fought the heathen lord. The King would have fallen to the lord were it not for one of his sword shields stabbing the knight in the back.
They had thought that the heathen lord had fallen. Jacob could not fathom what sort of reserve Robert Belmont had, but he drew upon it, got up despite his wounds, and stabbed the king in the back. Before they could attack, before they could strike Robert down, more of Belmont's soldiers came crashing down on them, forcing them to quit the field.
"And Abandon our King." Ser Jacob thought bitterly. "Not to mention the slaughter!"
After fleeing the battle, they heard that many of the Andal prisoners that were captured at High Heart were brutally executed. All were viciously killed by the hand of Adrian Belmont, Robert Belmont's only son.
This was enough to awaken the fury of many Andals elsewhere. It took months for a large army to be raised. An army with one purpose: to wipe out the Belmonts from the face of the Earth
They had been hounding them for months, and now it seems that they've all scattered and fled.
The Savages were fleeing, as they should. Running them down was easy. Crushing them underfoot as they deserved. They dared to kill their king when he was only doing the work of the Seven.
"Kill Them!" Ser Jacob roared as cut down more of the enemy soldiers.
The last of the heathens had stopped and braced themselves with spears held high.
Many of his comrades fell, but it did not matter. They were cut down with ease, the bastards were stubborn, take ten men with them. But one by one, they were all cut them. Most trampled underfoot all the same.
"Victory is ours!" Ser Jacob howls in victory. "The heathen lord is dead. Our King is avenged!"
The joyful cry was cut short as they heard the confusion in the rear and the sounds of steel clashing on steel. Realizing that enemies were in the rear Ser Jacob attempted to order an about-face, only to realize that the valley was too narrow to maneuver properly. It was at that moment that Jacob noticed a man at the top of the valley. It was too far for Ser Jacob to ascertain the man's identity. He was clad in no armor but held a distinctive bronze blade in his hand...
"No... it couldn't be!" he thought with disbelief.
It was the same blade wielded by the other heathen lord, Robert Belmont, the same blade that slew their king by stabbing him in the back. But he was dead. It took but a moment for Ser Bracken to draw the immediate conclusion: They hadn't killed Adrian Belmont, the man they had just slain was an imposter and the real one was standing atop the valley.
The heathen made a gesture, and the situation grew worse when a storm of Arrows rained upon them.
Jacob Bracken knew no more as a quarrel had pierced his throat and an arrow had pierced his eye. His last thoughts were that of knowing that they had been deceived and all he had done was lead his men into a slaughter.
0o0o0
Moments Earlier...
"Is that the footmen?" The other knight looked at the dust cloud appearing behind them.
"Almost admirable of them. They're trying so hard to attain glory for themselves."
"Hold on… those spears look longer than usual, and we didn't bring that many footmen."
Now that the knight had a better look, he realized that his comrade was right. The footmen advancing towards them were clad in Bronze and blue, not their colors. The pace of the footmen had not slowed down but rather it seemed to have sped up.
"They're not ours…" The Knight paled, already knowing that he could not maneuver well in his current situation.
"Enemies in the Rear!" He bellowed.
"About face!" He heard another cry out.
The Knights tried to reorganize but the valley was too narrow to move their horses.
"We can't move!" Ser Daveth heard his compatriot's scream.
As if on cue, several boulders smashed into the center of the knight's column, crushing many underfoot before rolling into the river. This was followed by more volleys of arrows and quarrels raining down on them. Not all were crushed as the ones who weren't were sent flying into the river where their armor caused them to sink underwater and drown.
Too late.
Even if they could move now, it would be too late. Several knights had by some miracle managed to swing around to confront the advancing enemy, but it was too late, the enemy was already on the attack. Ser Daveth was not that far from the rear. He could hear the enemy soldiers screaming a foreign word, but even then he knew exactly what they were saying.
"Charge!"
Rank upon rank of soldiers towards the trapped knights with their spears held high.
0o0o0
As the decoys were slaughtered...
He sent those men to die. Adrian knew this and sent them anyway.
'Vengeance is our Song',
His House words were chosen not in ages past but rather recently. It was his Ancestor Lady Cassandra Belmont who made it their house words after avenging our family from the acts of the Dornish lords.
He once read journals Lady Cassandra had written, detailing her thoughts on the matter. Detailing how she had sacrificed so many of her soldiers breach both the Wide Way and the Stone Way or 'Boneway' as others had called it afterward, lined with the bones of the Dornish soldiers who defend the pass.
A part of him found it disturbing how she described her retaliation, at first glance, it was swift and brutal, but her later actions made it the stuff of nightmares. How she took prisoners, especially those of the nobles who had ordered the assassinations of her family members. She did not go into too much detail but what she did left them begging for death, which to them must have been a mercy if what details she wrote was true.
Both passes had been heavily fortified, more so than before, and possibly because the Houses that resided there feared what would happen if Cassandra's children went back to Dorne to finish what they had started.
Once more he felt rage and anger at the predicament that the Andals had forced them into. He remembered the death of his father and the deaths of so many loyal men. Adrian wanted to descend the hill and lead his men in a charge, bringing his father's sword to bear on the knights cleaving them in twain-
He shook his head.
Was that how his grandmother felt when she found the rest of her family defiled and slain by Dornish Assassins? Unlike him, she did as she wanted and as a result, The Dornish Kings bowed, bent, and broke as she said she would make them. But even before they were attainted, they were still reeling from the aftereffects of her campaign. An entire generation of his people was practically wiped out by his father's time. They were on the way to recovering but only just. A critic could argue that it was her fault, but the clan elders had often defended her decision, back then they had all agreed that the Dornish needed to pay for their actions.
He shuddered inwardly as he remembered, at what point does vengeance go too far?
Lord Belmont knew that could not let his desires rule his thoughts. He chose to take comfort in the fact that none of the knights would leave this valley alive.
He could hear their cries of triumph. How proud they must be to trample over men armed with spears while claiming to be oh-so honorable.
What honor was there in running down a man with no chance to fight back? To call it a fair fight?
Lord Belmont knew that they could not hear them, but he spoke the words aloud regardless, not knowing if the knights could hear him.
"I would suggest that you pray to your 'Seven' for mercy, but it won't save you."
Adrian raised his hand in the air for a moment before bringing it down. The next word spoken was less of a shout and more a roar, loud enough that even the Knights could hear as he spoke the command that would condemn them all to their deaths.
"Loose!"
At Adrian's command, A storm of arrows and quarrels fell upon the knights.
0o0o0
He sacrificed his men, he sent them to their deaths. All for the sake of trapping us. the Knight thought.
Ser Leo Lowell briefly looked at the man staring down at them impassively. Cold… his eyes were cold. He could only watch as some of his comrades tried to get their horses to ascend the hill only to slip and come tumbling back down. It was a horrible way to die. Surrounded, bottled in with the enemy attacking from afar.
Not even a chance to fight back.
He distinctly heard shouts and screams behind him, the sound of steel-piercing flesh cries for honorable parley cut short. It was then he noticed the banners of House Belmont behind them, with row upon row of spears with bands of crimson cloth tied near the socket of the spearheads.
Attacked from the front with arrows, attacked from the rear by these vengeful savages, and no way to fight back.
Ser Leo managed to move his horse to face the advancing soldiers, the honorless curs. he managed to cut down two of the savages.
"Honorless Curs!" Leo roared. He cuts down another as several soldiers advanced on him, Ser Leo managed to kill one more when a spear pierced his wrist, another struck his horse in the eye and another pierced his shoulder.
The Seven was with them, they would not let such— Leo felt the last spear pierce the mail guarding his neck, and the Knight knew no more.
0o0o0
The Soldiers charged in. Some knights were simply trampled on, their armor protecting them until soldiers in the second and third ranks finished them off with daggers.
Aim for the joints or aim for the neck.
Alaric repeated those words in his head as he drove his spear into the neck of a knight.
Easier said than done, he thought sardonically. Then again, their lord had never said it would be easy. While their spears couldn't directly penetrate the knight's plate armor, they could easily get through the joints in said armor.
With the knights pinned, not even able to turn around and meet the spears. His thoughts were cut short when he saw that one of the knights had managed to maneuver back to face them. In but a moment Alaric and several other soldiers were rushing the knight.
"Do not let them get back up!" Alaric roared as his spear struck true, killing the knight in question.
Alaric took grim satisfaction as he could tell that the continuous volleys of arrows and quarrels were having an effect, some knights had been forced to drop their shields due to how the arrows were weighing it down. He absently noted that the arrow volleys were being loosed less and less as he and the others got closer.
He was mildly surprised to see how effective crossbows were. To be fair their armor did hold up against them, but all it took was one lucky shot and there were hundreds of quarrels flying down on them.
Alaric and his men pushed forward, while they would have preferred catching the entire army, wiping out the knights would make the next battle much easier. Speaking of easy, as they pushed forward, he realized that dispatching them was getting much easier. Alaric realized that it was the continuous fire of arrows and quarrels, even if they were not killing the knights many of them were getting stuck in the armor itself, which it far harder for the knights in question to fight.
Boulders they had spent days carrying up the hills were crashing down on the knights. Some crushed under the boulders others flung into the river where their armor had them sinking to the bottom.
Trapped, cornered, with no way to escape. They may have had their fancy armor and 'steel' weapons, but it meant very little in the end, Lord Belmont had well and truly intended to annihilate the Andals and did everything he could to ensure they had no chance of turning the tide of battle back to their side.
Alaric and his men found the last of the knights huddled against the wall of the valley. His armor was littered with arrows sticking out, he had dropped his shield due to how many arrows and quarrels were lodged in it. He was afraid, this was definitely not what they expected to end up in. Alaric surged forth and landed the killing blow and the knight fell.
"Victory is ours!"
He heard his lord's voice loud and clear and with that declaration, Alaric could hear the resounding cheer that came from the rest of the soldiers.
He was shaken from his reverie when he heard the unmistakable orders of many sergeants ordering their men to form up in spear walls. Alaric looked and found Andal's foot infantry had arrived.
Alaric had resigned himself to another bout of combat, though the lack of knights would make it much easier. Alaric could tell that many of his comrades had thought the same as he watched as the ones in the rear took formation and advanced upon the Andals... only to find them fleeing for their lives.
0o0o0
"What happened to the Knights?!" The Knight called Walder leading the column was shocked at the sight that had greeted him.
The river was red with blood, he could see the corpses of his fellow knights and their horses strewn all over the valley. he saw corpses that had clearly been crushed, but he could not see what had done it. What truly caught his attention was the loud cheer. He saw the banners of House Belmont among the soldiers.
"They were annihilated. How is that possible?!"
Ser Walder cursed himself when he realized that the footmen had heard him and were now fleeing, trampling over themselves and dropping their arms and taking off their armor, too frightened to face their enemies.
"Flee for your lives!" One of the footmen shouted. If the enemy could wipe out the knights then what chance did they have?
"Cowards! Get back here!" Ser Walder bellowed, intending to force them to attack, he was dissuaded from the notion when he saw the Belmont soldiers had stopped cheering and began taking formations, advancing upon them, rank upon rank of spears.
0o0o0
Adrian surveyed the battlefield, taking a small measure of satisfaction from the fact that his plan had worked. At that moment he found one of the knights still alive, arrows had penetrated the armor but did not hit anywhere that was immediately lethal. Based off of the livery on his armor, he most likely held a degree of command.
These Andals especially those in power sure loved their decoration. It was how his father was able to single out the Andal King in the midst of the carnage that was High Heart. Then again who was he to speak, while not necessarily decorative, his armor did stand out.
Adrian was shaken from his thoughts when he realized the knight was awake, coughing and rasping. Maybe the arrows struck somewhere that was not vital?
The Knight in question was looking at Adrian, glaring as if he could strike him down with his stare. Adrian chose to speak addressing them in their tongue since they found the native language so 'barbaric'.
"Was it worth it? to drag all your men here, to die like this?"
The words came from Ser Harold Arryn of House Arryn, a younger cousin of Artys I Arryn, the first King of Mountain and Vale and the founder of House Arryn.
"Damn you Adrian Belmont," Harold rasped. "I hope you suffer in the Seven Hells you honorless cur."
The Knight grew confused when he realized they were now tending to his wounds.
Honorless? Adrian could feel his blood boil. What did these fools know about honor? Adrian had known naught but hypocrisy from these knights. Maybe some may follow the beliefs they're supposed to espouse, but not all of them, and most certainly not these knights.
At that particular moment, Adrian finally made out the Knight's House Sigil...
And the realization had caused all reason to flee from his mind, replaced by anger and fury. Only to feel the anger ebb and flow away, another realization hitting him, his anger was replaced by something far more malicious.
Adrian chose to follow his ancestor's example.
"I was simply going to kill you, put you out of your misery," Adrian coldly says. "But I've changed my mind—Arryn."
He had begun speaking in their tongue once again, except now he spoke in a harsh, guttural tone, his family name practically hissed.
But even then, he knew that the heathen's voice had taken a more sinister turn. The Knight felt a pit form in his stomach, every instinct telling him to flee as Belmont stared at him. But now it did not feel like a man was staring at him. It felt more like a predator was sizing him up, trying to decide if it should eat him or not.
The knight could only watch as Belmont spoke in his savage tongue, gestured to the healer who looked confused and seemed to have questioned his orders, only to nod his head in affirmation.
The healer then shoved a funnel in Harold's mouth and poured a liquid down his throat, it was Milk of the Poppy the knight had realized. As he drifted to sleep Ser Harold knew he would not see his father again and prayed to the mother that he would never wake up, especially as he heard Belmont's parting words in Andal tongue, spoken clearer than he had heard several native speakers ever speak.
"I won't kill you. But do not worry...you'll simply wish I did."
AN
Glossary
The Great Andal Massacre: The Great Andal Massacre was one of the bloodiest slaughters in the history of the Seven Kingdoms. Mastermind by Lord Adrian Belmont, a great Andal army of eight thousand men was led into a small valley where they were trapped and slaughtered. This event further demonized Adrain Belmont and his House before the Andals' eyes for many generations to come.