Chapter 2: Adrian Belmont
The Battle of High Heart was won, the Andals were scattered and their king, Erreg , had been slain, yet it did not feel like a victory. Adrian Belmont surveyed the aftermath of the battle. He could accept the casualties, the Andals came to commit sacrilege, by cutting down the sacred trees of High Heart and slaughtering the Children of the Forest. That something Adrian and his father Robert could not allow.
"My Lord, your orders?" one of his men asked.
A large portion of the soldiers that came with him and his father were dead now, they had underestimated the Steel armor and weapons, especially since they boasted some of the finest iron and bronze weapons, so what if they had some other type of metal?
A lot it seems that their soldiers found it hard to find purchase on steel plate, only aiming for the joints allowed them to dispatch these knights.
"Gather the dead and strip the Andal corpses of their arms and armor." Adrian gave orders. "Skilled metalworkers were still in their retinue, perhaps they could find a way to make more of this 'steel' at the very least it would allow them to gradually match them in terms of armament.
"What of the prisoners?" the soldier asks.
Adrian was surprised that there were survivors to begin with. Not that it mattered in the end.
"They were so keen on burning Weirwoods in the name of their Seven Gods… had them ready to be execute before our Gods when I come back." He snarls
"It will be done." The Guard salutes and departs.
Adrian moves towards the area where his father fell in battle. When the Andal Knights broke the infantry formation, the battle had devolved into a melee.
Gods, it could have been worse, Adrian thought as he walked through the aftermath. Were it not for the fact that they were already adopting crossbows when the Andals started their invasion, and that metal known as steel had varying degrees of quality, they would have lost, horribly.
Crossbows had been adopted for an entirely different reason, mainly to combat the heavier foot infantry other kingdoms were beginning to field. Adrian was also thanking the gods that steel was not consistent material, he had witnessed crossbows rain ineffective volleys on the knights accompanying the Andal King, but it was working to deadly effect on the rest.
Stripping the dead of their steel armor would be prudent, especially that of the knights accompanying the Andal King, as they were only felled when they had been stabbed in the more vulnerable joints between their armor. He had seen wounded knights cry out for 'parley' in the midst of battle, not that it mattered. The word itself was foreign to them and it most likely had to do with their culture, more so the battle had devolved into a bloody melee, what did they think would happen?
He approached the site where his father fell and found healers tending to him. Tending at his father's side was Joy Stone, the bastard daughter of the Griffin King, who was forced to leave the Vale after the death of her father.
"Father?" Adrian moans with emotion
"Adrian...Joy… have we won?" Robert asked dying.
Adrian grimaced as he looked over his father's injuries, his armor had been rent asunder by the Steel weapons of the Andals and several arrows had struck vital points on his body. In short, he was silently amazed that his father was still alive, but even if he brought a healer he would still perish. At most he could be given Milk of the Poppy.
He would never know the truth, but Adrian was certain that his father knew what he was thinking.
"Yes we won," says Joy, comforting him. "The Andals fled after you slew their king and our men have run them down."
All the anger held back as they were stripped of the lands, titles and even being humiliated, it all came to bear on the Andal King Erreg. Although badly outnumbered, the Belmont, as well as their allies within Riverlands, emerged victorious with the Andal King slain, there was a reason that the Storm Kings had them wage war in their name.
"Good..." Robert was interrupted by his injuries and he began coughing up even more blood, he was getting paler and paler.
"How many?" was all the dying lord asked. how many of his subjects will he be joining him, he asks.
Adrian hesitated for a moment until he finally reported "Of the Twenty-five thousand soldiers that chose to follow us after were stripped of our lands and titles about sixteen thousand remain... Of them well over half have been injured with at least twelve-hundred unlikely to return to the field. I do not think we have enough men to fight another battle like that father."
Robert nods and grimaces. "Adrian... you... are in command now."
Turning to Joy who was at his side, Robert struggles with words "Joy…take care of my son." Those were his final words, and the light faded from his father's eyes. Robert Belmont, Lord of House Belmont was dead.
He wanted to cry, he wanted to weep, he wanted to rage against the accursed Andals. But he could not, Adrian Belmont would grieve in private, now he had responsibilities, and he could not let his personal doubts or his emotions cloud his judgment.
Right now. He has something to do first.
0o0o0
The air was thick with tension and grief, as a thousand Andal prisoners were herded together under the watchful eyes of Adrian Belmont's soldiers. The remnants of battle lay scattered around them—broken weapons, discarded armor, and the faint scent of smoke still lingering in the air. The Weirwood, ancient and gnarled, bore witness to both victory and loss, its leaves whispering secrets to those who dared to listen.
Adrian Belmont strode into the clearing with a heavy heart. His face was stony, betraying none of the turmoil that roiled within him. He had just lost his father, Robert Belmont, a noble warrior who had fought valiantly in defense of their lands. The weight of his father's death pressed down on him like an iron shroud; it was a burden he would carry for all time. As he approached the gathered prisoners, he felt their eyes upon him—some filled with hatred, others with fear.
Among them stood Dano, an Andal Lord whose lineage traced back to ancient times. Dano's arrogance was palpable even in chains; he held his head high despite his captivity. As Adrian drew near, Dano's voice rang out clear and defiant.
"You may have won this day, Belmont," Dano spat, "but you are merely delaying the inevitable. The Andals will return! They will come back with vengeance for our fallen King Erreg!"
Adrian's jaw tightened at Dano's words. Anger flared within him—a fire ignited by grief and indignation. He stepped closer to Dano, knife glinting ominously in his hand as he confronted the lord.
"Do you believe in the Faith of Seven?" Adrian asked calmly yet fiercely.
Dano met his gaze without flinching. "I do," he replied defiantly. "And when I die, I shall ascend to the Seven Heavens—while you and every heathen will be cast down to the Seven Hells to burn.
Adrian looked at Dano, as if he was taking forever in its moment. He smiles and says, "Then I guess I'll express those as your last words!"
Without warning, Adrian grabbed the Andal Lord by the collar of his tunic, dragging him to his feet with a brutal yank. The Andal Lord cried out in pain and fear as Adrian raised his knife, slashing through Dano's flesh with a savage, downward motion. The sound of ripping flesh and splattering blood echoed through the clearing as Dano's stomach was opened from end to end, his innards spilling out onto the ground in a grotesque display.
The Andal prisoners recoiled in horror at the sight before them. Adrian plunged his hands into Dano's open wound, his fingers curling around the Andal Lord's still-beating heart as he tore it free from its cavity. Holding the bloody organ aloft, Adrian roared triumphantly, the screams of the Andal prisoners ringing in his ears like sweet music.
"Who's next?" Adrian bellowed, his voice cold and merciless as he surveyed the crowd of terrified prisoners.
Glossary
Great Execution of High Heart: The Great Execution of High Heart was the most single-handily mass execution created in the history of the seven kingdoms. After the Battle of High Heart, Adrian Belmont, executed a thousand Andal prisoners, using a knife to rip them open and pulls out their entrails and hearts, hanging them amongst the branches of the Weirwood of High Heart.
As the sun began to set over High Heart, the ground littered with the bodies of the fallen Andal prisoners, word of Adrian Belmont's bloody killing spread like wildfire across the Riverlands and beyond. Tales of the Bloody-handed Demon of High Heart, the man who single-handedly slaughtered a thousand Andal prisoners in a single day, struck fear and hatred into the hearts of all who heard them.
To the Andal society, and many generations in the following, the name of Adrian Belmont became synonymous with terror and death, a dark shadow use to scare Andal children with the saying "If you don't behave, Adrian Belmont will come to get you". For centuries the Andal society trembled at the mention of his name, their nightmares haunted by the image of the man who had become a legend in his own right – the merciless executioner of High Heart.