The Iron Plain. 299 AC.
Mathis Rowan.
A sturdy, clean shaven man in snow white armor cast of pure gold watched the battle unfold, quickly weighing everything before him. Matthis Rowan could rightly be called a good and well regarded commander. Not on the level ofLord Tarly, Falcon's Eye, or the young Stark, but he knew his craft. And the situation before him now was, to put it mildly, uninspiring. With both sides starting out roughly even in numbers, Willas Tyrell was holding on by the barest thread. A little longer and the point of no return would be crossed, though thankfully his army of ten thousand swords could still turn a hopeless position around.
"I don't like what I'm seeing," Matthis summed up briefly. "If things were fine here, King Renly wouldn't have sent us." His cousin was a staunch supporter of King Renly and always inflated his every achievement. "It's a good thing His Grace foresaw this and sent us."
"More likely the old crone wants to fix her spawn's blunders at someone else's expense, yet again." Matthis was not fooled; Renly might have given the order, but it was Olenna who had brought the army up to ten thousand strong.
"We'll discuss Lady Olenna's virtues later, it's time for us to save the day." Discussing the withered old woman who had overstayed her welcome in this world could wait until after the battle. "Davon, take four thousand swords and help Lord Willas hold the right flank and stabilize the center. I'll strike the left flank with the rest, and pay the Falcon's eye back in his own coin."
...
Axel Arryn.
Magic is as useful as it is dangerous, and magic of the wraithworld doubly so. Even the most basic enhancement to my physical abilities turned me into a tireless monster on the battlefield. I could hack and slash for days on end, quite literally, but afterward I would pay dearly for it. The energy of the Otherside might be compared to manticore venom. Taken in small doses on a fixed schedule, everything is fine, the poison burns off and poses no threat, health even improves, but change the dosage or increase the frequency and you're a corpse.
My limit is eight hours under enhancement, past that the negative consequences grow exponentially. Even at my heaviest use, I rarely draw on more than half of that allotted time. But even so, I remain a formidable force on the battlefield, which is more than can be said for my men. No, make no mistake, they are among the finest warriors in the world, but my guardsmen cannot sustain my pace for long, so we have withdrawn back to headquarters for now. I needed to get a clear picture of the battlefield, and the men simply needed to rest.
"...Enemy reinforcements are restoring their center and beginning to press our right flank," Stanford, a distant relation of the Royces, was my staff strategist, and it fell to him to track developments while I amused myself in the fighting. "We've thinned the Tyrells out well, but with their reinforcements arrived, there's nothing more to be gained here. My lord, we need to call a full scale retreat, and soon."
"We are still holding the right flank and won't be giving up ground anytime soon, Jasper is pressing hard from the left, the center remains stable." I understood well enough what he was trying to tell me, and from a theoretical standpoint my staff strategist was right, but war is not a matter of calculations on paper.
"With those ten thousand Rowan reinforcements, we can no longer afford to keep fighting. We need to pull back all available forces and work out a new approach," Stanford pressed his case. "We have little time, if we let this slip, the right flank could be cut to pieces." With the enemy reinforcements arrived, the old plan could be thrown out entirely, it no longer applied. Retreat was a last resort only. Yes, my losses in a clash of this scale were minimal, in theory this could even be called a victory, but it would put an end to my "hunt for gold". The Baratheon swords could now march straight at me and try to drive me out of the Riverlands. I could fight to the bitter end, I still held a fast fading advantage, if Jasper and I organized a powerful strike on the enemy headquarters and killed their army's commanders, that would completely reshape the battlefield. With good fortune, victory would be all but guaranteed, but again, the losses would be heavy, and that would put an end to my plans as well.
And there was a third option: wait for the Lannisters. My army had a rough threshold, a point at which this battle would tip from favorable to unfavorable. I would wait for that moment, but if Tywin did not come, I would not push my luck and would simply withdraw. Unpleasant, a blow to my pride, my plans, my reputation, and a few other things besides, but preserving my fighting strength was my foremost priority.
"The situation isn't so dire as that. We'll use the half moon strategy." Stanford wasn't well versed enough in my strategies, so I had to explain. "Send companies to reinforce the left flank and have Jasper push harder. His advance should force Rowan to divert part of his strength to defend against him, and that will ease the pressure on our right flank."
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter